This is some of the story behind my eyebrow piercing and the realisations that have come with it.
A few years ago, I paid a professional to put a hole in my face with an 18gauge needle. It was ~years in the making, but also came at a point of great pain and emotional turmoil (details of the anguish of 3rd year med in the absence of friends and people of integrity may be provided elsewhere).
Rewind to several years before that. First year med. A housemate told me that I seemed really soft and nice from a distance, 'then you get to know you and it's...". I had never before associated qualities of softness and gentleness with my external appearance. Sure, I was fat and gross and grumpy, but nothing different or more. Over the next few years, I experienced an extraordinary amount of islamophobia, racism, misogyny, and generally inadequate and offensive judgements from my peers and teachers and patients and randoms. There's not really much I can do about this. I can talk and talk and talk but the first and only thing people taken in is the Otherness of my appearance. Plus the value judgement that being short and fat makes me kind and jolly like Santa and obviously desperate for everyone's acceptance.
So when I had a metal wire shoved into my face, aged 25, it was both an outlet and an exploration of identity. I noticed that people did a bit a double-take when they looked at/spoke with me. One man felt the need to point that he 'had trouble reconciling this *gestures to face* with THIS *points to imaginary hijab*". I laughed politely and said 'Haha yeah I get that a lot' but really no one had said that before.
I guess, looking back, that the nail in my brow is a bit of a middle finger to the judgement that comes from within whatever social group I am in - I refuse to be told how to be a good woman of faith and culture - as well as to the outside - for the same reason. It's weird because even though it has the same effect on muslims and non-muslims, the reactions are a bit different. To the average culturally conservative muslim, I am a rebel and a bad influence on their daughter. To the average cracker, I am a confusing entity, because surely I am oppressed but what about the jewel on my forehead?! It's almost daring both sides to make a comment, to try and tell me what to do. And then watch while I roll my eyes so hard they pop out of my skull.
Lol, I sound like a 16 year old. In my defence, my rebellion as a teenager involved collected Harry Potter articles and pictures. Need to make up for lost time.
I had planned this entry to be a bit more profound when I came up with it in the car earlier. Ah well.
I guess the point I was coming to was that I am both a cliche and a rebel, and I give props to all those who have walked this road before me, and good luck to those who may follow a similar path. I don't have many answers, but it does make my petty heart happy when a narrow-minded sod notices my eyebrow bar and is suddenly unsure of how to interact with me. I am torn between wanting people to feel comfortable to talk to me, and really hating it when people talk to me, and the piercing is a great way of filtering people out. My uniqueness is not actually unique or special, but in the context of todays discourse around women's bodies, and particularly those of the muslim/woman of colour, my face is a little outside the culturally accepted norm. Also, it is not so much a reflection of my specialness in itself, but a projection of special that I want to be. This is a bit sad and regressive and puerile, but we are what we are. I comfort myself with the thought that at least I use this misfortune for some sort of social commentary and change, and not personal validation alone.
I don't know how punk this really is, but it makes me re-visit my childhood perceptions of punks I saw in books. I wish I could find them and say, I have felt that pain, I have felt that stifling confinement, and I want to fight the good fight alongside you. My struggles in this have softened me somewhat, and for that, I want to say thank you. Thank you for flagging a different method of resistance, thank you for being examples, and thank you for the bravery it takes to stand your ground in the face of a socio-political onslaught of judgement.
Basically, people are really annoying and I don't like being one of them, but since I can't help being one of them, I want to look pretty and have fun in the process.
I don't think any part of this flows or makes any real sense. Perhaps I will come back and flesh it out at some other time. Thanks for bearing with me.
Peace and love,
S.
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