Growing up, my ear lobes were bare.
I still remember being in elementary school, entranced by the sparkle of the rhinestones and cheap metal dangling from my friends’ ears — something I thought I couldn’t have.
While I was still knee-deep in the sickeningly sweet whimsy of childhood, I would look forward to what earrings my sister would wear to school each day. They had a wide selection of cartoon foods with faces or the real jewelry my grandparents bought them for a birthday present, and I was enthralled regardless of which pair made their way to their ears.
Although I knew my mother would drive me to Claire’s in a heartbeat if I expressed my desire for an ear piercing. I never entertained the idea because I felt the need to conform to the aesthetics that other boys did. Regrettably, I wore graphic tee shirts, cargo shorts and basketball sneakers.
I still constantly thought about how deeply I desired to do small things to feminize my appearance, with piercings being at the front of my mind. But as quickly as the thought would come, I would analyze the earlobes of the boys sitting next to me in class. I noticed their lack of sparkle and would eject the idea of getting earrings from my brain.
By freshman year at my performing arts high school, part of me still fought the idea of piercings because it was hard to overcome years of suppressing my identity and insecurities. But for the first time, I remember seeing guys my age walk around with full earring stacks and bars from an industrial piercing stretching across their ears.
To this day, attending an arts school was the best decision I’ve ever made. It was an environment overflowing with creativity, queerness and femininity — something I so desperately needed after my disastrous years trying to fit in in elementary and middle school.
My high school made me feel safe enough to express myself in whatever way I saw fit, but I conditioned myself for so long to think it wasn’t something I should do.
That was until the fateful summer before my senior year when I went to the only place anyone should get their first ear piercing — Claire’s.
My best friend decided one day to go to the mall and re-pierce her ears, and I finally decided it was my chance. I told my mom the plan, and she enthusiastically offered to drive us there.
I sat on the high piercing chair, which was meant for kids half my size, and hugged the provided teddy bear as the worker shoved the needle in my ear. Lady Gaga’s “Stupid Love” blasted over the store speakers and I had accomplished my childhood dream in less than a minute. I looked over at my mom, who was crying tears of joy.
I always thought my face structure was too starkly masculine, especially in the months leading up to my grand expedition to Claire’s. I was leaner then, and my hair was far shorter. My jawline was more accentuated and the faded haircut on the side of my head did little to disquiet my insecurities.
There was little I could do to appear more feminine, aside from my already evolving wardrobe, so the stud earrings became the thing I clung to. It made me smile every time they caught the light and I saw the reflection in the mirror because it was a reminder I was beginning to move in the right direction.
I counted down the days until I could change my original boring stud to a hoop or dangle. When that day finally came and my holes were healed, I ran to Amazon and bought a variety pack of dangly earrings. Not just regular ones, but an assortment of mushrooms, strawberries, ducks and food.
There was a brief period where I wore these cheap and colorful earrings every day to match my outfit, even though it was out of character for someone slowly encroaching on adulthood. But I craved that same rush I felt watching my sister select their earrings when we were little.
They say tattoos are addictive, but I find piercings to be a vice that is far harder to kick. I immediately planned my second lobe piercings, then mapped out the cartilage I wanted to be pierced next.
A few months later I got my belly button pierced, which is still my favorite piercing to date, even though I don’t display it often. It’s one of the most important ones to me because it accentuates a part of my body that I still hold a lot of insecurity for. It’s also my most feminine, but even though I don’t show it that often, it provides me with a confidence that is second to none.
It’s hard to believe that I was so scared to get piercings when I was younger because I feel naked without them now. There have been days where I’ve skipped class because I forgot earrings at home and didn’t want to be seen without them.
I now have good quality earrings that never get taken out, but my favorite is the ones sitting in my first lobe piercing. They’re my mothers that she gave me while my ears were infected and I’ve laid claim to them ever since.
Living in unrelenting fear of piercing my ears was unbearable, but what matters is that I found myself along the way somehow. The pain of self-suppression may not have been worth it, but the pain from a piercing gun pays off every time.
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