On my 18th birthday, I made a significant decision: I got my first tattoo. After trading my driver’s permit for a state ID at the DMV, I headed to a tattoo parlor situated in a strip mall, conveniently located next to a Chinese restaurant and a Dunkin’ Donuts. There wasn’t a grand plan behind my choice; it was simply an act of rebellion against my mother’s wishes.
As I scrolled through a selection of flash images—predesignated artwork commonly seen in tattoo shops—I chose a black cross entwined with a yellow rose. A burly, bearded artist attempted to dissuade me, reminding me that I wasn’t religious and that the placement I desired, on the small of my back, was somewhat risqué. Yet, I went through with it, marking the beginning of my journey into body modifications.
Since then, I’ve accumulated numerous tattoos and 14 body piercings, becoming quite the enthusiast for body art. However, despite my personal choices, I have firmly decided not to pierce my daughter’s ears. Yes, it may seem ironic coming from someone with a myriad of modifications, but this decision stems from my belief in bodily autonomy.
From the moment my daughter was born, family members began inquiring about when I would pierce her ears, expressing disbelief that I hadn’t done so already. Many assumed that my own body modifications would naturally extend to her. I could have reacted defensively, but instead, I calmly explained that I had no intention of piercing her ears. The essence of my stance lies in the principle of consent.
While some may argue that it’s just a simple ear piercing—a practice that was once done in a kitchen with makeshift tools—these are still her ears. Making that choice for her while she is too young to voice her opinion would be inappropriate. My own modifications were my decisions, even if some were regrettable.
If my daughter expresses a desire for pierced ears when she’s older—perhaps at six, eight, or ten—I will support her in understanding the process and accompany her to a qualified professional piercer, as recommended by resources like the Association of Professional Piercers (APP). However, I will not impose this choice upon her, nor will I alter her body for my own aesthetic reasons. Piercing her ears serves no cultural purpose for me, nor is it medically necessary. Moreover, I refuse to subject her to what I perceive as unnecessary discomfort.
While tiny stud earrings may seem adorable, they do not hold intrinsic value for her at this stage in life. Her joy is better found in the simple pleasures of childhood—like Cheerios and her favorite animated characters.
In summary, my choice not to pierce my daughter’s ears is guided by a commitment to her autonomy and the importance of consent. This stance reflects a broader understanding of body modification and parental influence in decision-making.
For those interested in family planning and pregnancy-related topics, consider exploring more resources such as Healthline’s informative articles or check out this guide on at-home insemination kits for further information. Additionally, if you’re considering self-insemination options, this trusted source provides valuable insights.