On my 18th birthday, I made my way to a tattoo parlor located in a strip mall, sandwiched between a Chinese restaurant and a coffee shop. After swapping my learner’s permit for a state ID at the DMV, I was ready for my first tattoo. It wasn’t a meticulously thought-out decision or a quest for something edgy; instead, it was more of a rebellious act against my mother’s wishes.
I spent just minutes flipping through pre-drawn designs, known as flash, that included everything from skulls to cartoon characters. When a burly tattoo artist approached, I felt a rush of uncertainty. With hardly any time to weigh my options, I pointed to the first design I saw: a black cross entwined with a yellow rose. Despite his attempts to talk me out of it—because I wasn’t religious and I wanted it on my lower back—I went ahead. Many years later, I have accumulated multiple tattoos and 14 body piercings, and yet, when it comes to my daughter, I won’t be piercing her ears.
Yes, it’s true. The woman with vibrant hair and an array of body art is choosing not to adorn her toddler’s ears with jewelry. Family members often questioned when I would take that step, assuming I would definitely pierce her ears given my own choices. “But with all your piercings and tattoos…” they would say, with disbelief.
I could have snapped back with a sarcastic remark about their unwarranted curiosity, but instead, I calmly explained that it wasn’t something I planned to do. The fact that I have body modifications is exactly why I refuse to pierce my daughter’s ears. It’s a decision that should be hers when she’s old enough to express her wishes, equipped with the maturity and understanding that comes with age.
Sure, many may argue that it’s just her ears. After all, my mother pierced my ears with a needle and thread—back in the day, it was a rite of passage. But here’s the crux: they are her ears, not mine. Making that decision for her, before she can voice her own opinion, raises critical issues about consent.
All my tattoos and piercings were my choices, for better or worse. If my daughter approaches me at 6, 8, or even 10 and expresses a desire to have her ears pierced, I will guide her through the process and take her to a professional piercer. But I will not impose that decision on her. To pierce her ears now would be an act of vanity on my part, neither culturally significant nor beneficial for her health. And let’s be honest—any discomfort from the piercing is nothing compared to the sting of a bee.
While cute little studs may seem appealing, they won’t bring any joy to her right now. Instead, her happiness comes from the little things—Cheerios, her beloved Mickey Mouse, and adventures with Elmo.
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In summary, I’m choosing to respect my daughter’s autonomy by waiting until she’s ready to make her own decisions about her body. Piercing her ears is not a priority for me; her happiness comes from different places at this stage of her life.