I still remember the day I got my first tattoo on my 18th birthday. After trading my driver’s permit for a state ID at the DMV, I headed to a tattoo parlor in a strip mall that also offered piercings, conveniently located near a Chinese restaurant and a Dunkin’ Donuts. I wish I could say I had a grand plan or was inspired by something deep, but the truth is that my sole motivation was to rebel against my mother’s wishes. Go figure.
After scrolling through countless flash images—those pre-drawn designs that include everything from cherries to skulls—I was approached by a large, burly man with a beard. When he asked if I needed assistance, I froze. My only response was to point to the first image I saw: a black cross adorned with a yellow rose. He tried to dissuade me, noting that a) I was not religious at all and b) I wanted it on my lower back—an area that, let’s be honest, generally remains hidden. (And just to clarify, this was before the term “tramp stamp” became a thing, so I prefer to think of it as a simply misguided choice.)
Since that day, I’ve become quite the enthusiast for body modifications, now sporting 14 piercings and a collection of tattoos that blend into one another. However, despite my own love for body art, I have absolutely no plans to pierce my daughter’s ears. That’s right—the woman with the half-shaven head and colorful hair won’t be putting earrings in her toddler’s ears.
From the moment my daughter could sit up, I was inundated with questions from family about when I’d be piercing her ears. Many seemed shocked that I hadn’t done it yet, assuming that because of my own tattoos and piercings, I would naturally want the same for my daughter. But the reality is that just because I made certain choices for my body doesn’t mean I will impose those decisions on her. My daughter deserves the right to decide for herself.
Some might argue that it’s just her ears, and I can understand that perspective. After all, my mom used a sewing needle and thread (not to mention an ice cube) to pierce my ears when I was a child. Yet, that doesn’t change the fact that they are my daughter’s ears, and ultimately, the decision should be hers alone. Piercing her ears without her consent is not only unnecessary but could also lead to issues around bodily autonomy.
All of my body modifications were choices I made for myself, and yes, I’ve made some questionable decisions along the way. If my daughter expresses a desire to have her ears pierced when she’s older—say at six, eight, or even ten—I would be more than happy to educate her on the process and take her to a reputable piercing studio. But until she can articulate that wish, I won’t be the one to make that decision for her.
So while those cute little earrings might be shiny and appealing, they won’t bring her happiness at this young age. For now, her joy comes from Cheerios, Mickey Mouse, and all things Elmo.
This article was originally published on March 19, 2013, but it still resonates today for many parents navigating similar choices.
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In conclusion, the decision to pierce my daughter’s ears will be hers to make when she is ready, not mine. It’s all about respecting her autonomy and allowing her to choose what feels right for her.