On my 18th birthday, I made an impulsive decision to get my first tattoo. After exchanging my driver’s permit for a state ID at the DMV, I headed straight to a tattoo parlor located in a strip mall, sandwiched between a Chinese eatery and a Dunkin’ Donuts. While I wish I could say there was a profound reason behind my choice, the truth is I simply wanted to rebel against my mother’s wishes.
I spent just a few minutes browsing through a collection of flash art—those pre-designed, often clichéd images like cherries and skulls. When a burly, bearded man approached me to ask if I needed assistance, I panicked. I quickly pointed to the first design that caught my eye: a black cross entwined with a yellow rose. He hesitated, trying to dissuade me for two reasons: I had no religious affiliation and I wanted it placed on the small of my back, a spot often associated with questionable choices. Fast forward to today, and I’ve accumulated a fair number of tattoos and body piercings—14 to be exact—but I still firmly believe in one thing: I will not pierce my daughter’s ears.
From the moment my daughter was born, family members have questioned me about when I would have her ears pierced, often expressing disbelief that I hadn’t done it yet. They assumed that because I have a variety of piercings and tattoos, I’d be eager for her to have them too. But the truth is, I see these choices as deeply personal. Just as I made my decisions about body modification, my daughter deserves the autonomy to make her own choices regarding her body when she’s old enough to understand them.
Some might argue that it’s just her ears. After all, my mother pierced my ears at home with a sewing needle and thread (and sometimes an ice cube). However, the reality is that those ears belong to my daughter, not to me. Piercing them before she can express her own wishes raises significant questions about consent. All my tattoos and piercings were my decisions—some good, some questionable—but they were mine alone.
If my daughter expresses interest in getting her ears pierced when she’s older, say at six or eight, I will gladly take her to a reputable professional piercer and support her decision. Until then, I won’t impose my desires on her, nor will I modify her body for my own vanity. There’s no cultural significance or medical necessity for piercing her ears, and I refuse to do it simply to spare her from a momentary sting that’s hardly worse than a bee bite.
While cute little stud earrings may seem appealing, they won’t bring her happiness right now. For that, she has her beloved Cheerios and endless episodes of Mickey Mouse and Elmo.
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In summary, I choose to respect my daughter’s autonomy and let her make her own decisions about her body when she is ready.