Growing up, not having my ears pierced often left me feeling like the odd one out. In Puerto Rican culture, many parents pierce their children's ears shortly after they're born. It was often a rite of passage, and being without my own pair seemed to confuse some people. I was often asked why my mother didn't pierce my ears when I was younger, and I never exactly had an answer for them; it was just a decision my mother chose not to make for me. Sometimes, I would flip the question back on them, asking why they chose to make that decision for their child. The most common answers were that parents didn't want their baby girl to be mistaken for a boy, or that it was simply tradition.
The (sometimes literally devastating) gender reveals that have recently been shaking up the news cycle have brought me back to musing over this less-obtrusive way that some parents choose to let the world know their baby was assigned female at birth. “This persistent and compulsory coupling of feminine and female is, in part, what leads to ear piercing as a visible signifier of femaleness itself,” Sasha T. Goldberg, a doctoral candidate and research assistant in gender studies at Indiana University Bloomington, tells me. Tying femininity, or lack thereof, to an ear-piercing seems to me like a heavy expectation to put on a child that has no say in the decision otherwise. As Jessany Maldonado, an associate instructor and graduate student at Indiana University Bloomington, specializing in the studies of Black sexuality, more plainly puts it: "If you're trying to push a 'gendering agenda' …trying to force other people to construct your child as A or B, then there's some inside insecurities that [you] need to work out."
As my fellow millennials and even younger gen Zers start having our own kids, some of us find ourselves having to parse two potentially opposing views. Many of us understand gender to be a spectrum and not something that can always be accurately assigned at birth. Many of us also come from families where piercing a baby's ears, especially if they're a girl, is simply tradition. As it's often a part of our culture, it's often expected that we’ll be eager to continue the trend when we become parents. "Getting your ears pierced as a woman of color is seen as a rite of passage in the Black community," says Taylor Gibbons, 27. "It's so ingrained in older Black women and men that when I don’t have earrings in my ear, I’m called out and scolded for it even as an adult."
The Culture of Piercing
This was a common theme among most of the people I interviewed for this piece: More than having a hyper-specific religious or cultural reasoning for piercing a baby's ears, their parents pierced their ears mainly because everyone they knew did too. (It's worth noting that the American Academy of Pediatrics says there is "little risk" associated with ear piercing, regardless of age.) "My parents pierced my ears when I was a baby, but they never gave a specific reason why. When I ask, they say 'because we did,'" Justice McNeil, 21, says, noting that they didn’t do the same for her brother, who later chose to pierce his ears when he was about nine or 10.
"It's pretty uncommon for Indian people, especially for a girl, to not have your ears pierced," says Aarati Akkapeddi, 27. "I think there is also a religious significance for Hindus…I know there are all kinds of theories around Ayurvedic pressure points in the body. I'm sure my parents didn't think about it in such detail, but piercing your baby's ears was definitely normalized in their social circles."
Pink doesn't always signify femininity, nor does blue signify masculinity — and anyone can pierce their ears.
Historically, cultural ties to piercing are common across cultures, even if they might not be the explicit reason many parents pierce their children’s ears today. For instance, ear piercing, also known as karnavedha in Hinduism, is one of the 16 sanskar rituals that mark stages of life and signify cultural heritage and upbringing. Usually, children will have their ears pierced after their birth in a karnavedha ceremony that celebrates this symbolic practice.
Additionally, the National Museums of Kenya notes that in Kenyan communities, it was an extremely common practice, as both men and women had their ears pierced as a part of a transition ritual, particularly from childhood to youth, and youth to adulthood. In addition to piercing, ear stretching was performed, in which heavy hardwood logs were used to make the piercing holes larger. The process was done gradually, beginning with a small tear. Those who participated were expected to go through it without showing fear. Today, this practice is less widely performed in Kenya, usually only by the Maasai people.
A Modern Rite of Passage
Around middle school, I began to envy the pierced ears of my classmates and finally took the leap to get my own. It became my own rite of passage that included my mother, grandma, and best friend. Of course, it was a quick process, but having that moment shared with the people closest to me was special. I was thrilled that the questions about my naked ears would cease, and that I would never have to fumble with clip-on earrings again. As for my mother, she was happy as she wanted this to be something that I voiced having and not one that was done without me knowing.
Much like my own mom, it seems that more members of this new parental generation are opting to hold off on piercing their baby's ears. Most folks I spoke with said they wanted to allow their child to make that call when they’re older. This is at least partially because our ideas about gender are changing. As gender becomes more commonly recognized as fluid, the rules and expectations around gender expression change. Pink doesn't always signify femininity, nor does blue signify masculinity — and anyone can pierce their ears. "While having my ears pierced and wearing big gold hoop earrings as an adult is a powerful sign of my artistic sensibilities, my Black and Latinx cultures, and my desired femininity, I feel that it should not be my role as a parent to project my own gender or other identifiers onto my children," says Wynter Lastarria, 27. "I am cisgender and rather feminine, but if my parents had pierced my ears as a baby just because I was born female I think it would probably have made me feel as if they were expecting me to be a certain type of girl."
Like Lastarria, many folks use piercings as a form of self-expression, regardless of gender. For queer folks in particular, this can also look like a reclamation of one’s own body, making a decision of how they wish to be perceived in a world that often assumes their identity without their consent. "As a trans person, I'm pretty adamant about not putting gender roles on my prospective child," says Julian Weschler, 28. "If, however, my child was old enough, regardless of gender, and said they wanted their ears pierced, I would say sure and take them to a legit piercing shop." Weschler also noted that he’s in the market for some BTS-style hoops, but hasn’t gotten around to buying them "partly because of money and partly because of self-consciousness about portraying femininity."
Ultimately, no one I spoke to who had their ears pierced as a child considered it a life-altering experience. But just because something doesn’t cause irreversible trauma doesn’t mean it should continue as usual, free of scrutiny. The decision around piercing a young child's ears remains complicated and personal. But perhaps the tradition should not be something for the parents to decide alone, but one for a child to choose to be a part of.
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