It feels like nowadays everyone is going to workout classes and investing in their hobbies; even unabashedly taking mental health days. In a time of global uncertainty and the natural stresses that come with being a student, it’s refreshing to see self-care being celebrated. But for some, prioritizing yourself isn’t always a pair of running shoes or a moisturizing face mask – it can also be bright red hair and a tattoo that makes you smile.
The COVID-19 lockdown in 2020 left us with no choice but to face ourselves. Almost out of necessity, conversations about mental health came to the forefront online, inevitably changing culture and redefining the ways we talk about and treat mental health. Anxiety and depression aren’t taboo subjects anymore, and neither are the routes you can take to feel better.
Self-expression is the unassuming root to self-care, naturally differing from person to person. Just like wearing graphic t-shirts or putting stickers on your laptop, body modifications like piercings, tattoos, dyed hair and cosmetic surgeries serve as ways to show the world a part of yourself, which can be incredibly assuring. The acceptance and destigmatization of mental health and self-care directly informs the rising normalization of body modifications.
Growing up as a Venezuelan immigrant in Miami, Florida, I was taught that tattoos and piercings were unprofessional and unappealing. I got my first tattoo at 18 to signify a milestone in my life. Despite my connection to it, I felt guilty and fearful of my parents’ reactions. When I moved to California for college, I noticed people with all kinds of body modifications everywhere I went: in my classes, serving at restaurants, ticketing at venues, and even working corporate jobs. I realized that doing what you wanted to with your body was, in reality, a powerful way to take charge of your being.
In India, nose piercings are a vital part of cultural tradition. In African cultures, facial piercings serve both spiritual and practical purposes. In Latin American culture, it’s customary to pierce newborn girls’ ears as a sign of femininity. Modern tattooing wouldn’t exist without Māori tāmoko, which is the art of facial tattooing of tribal designs, meant to connect one with their culture. Wearing wigs and dyeing hair can be traced back to early Egypt and the Renaissance. Body modification isn’t a phase or a cry for attention; it’s an ancient practice of reclaiming physicality, which can serve as self-care.
Senior fine arts major, Ray Snyder, says their facial piercings helped their mental health. “As someone who’s non binary, I do have a complicated relationship with gender,” they said. “Even though I am, like, a very feminine presenting person, I don’t necessarily feel that way inside.” Snyder’s 13 piercings serve as a way for them to explore and challenge gender, relieving their gender dysphoria, which is the feeling of deep distress due to one’s gender identity differing from their gender assigned at birth.
Some of Snyder’s piercings go beyond self-expression. Snyder was born with a rare skull deformity that affects their jaw and was left with permanent nerve damage after years of failed correctional surgeries, leaving them with no sensation in their chin and lower lip. Their snakebite piercings (on either side of their bottom lip) help them get a feel for where their lip actually is, “which is crazy,” they say, because “they also look really sick– they’re such a key part of my identity.”
Tattoos work in similar ways, allowing for the skin to become a canvas full of art. Egan Walker, a senior English major, got his first tattoo at 18 years old. It was inspired by the first short story he ever wrote because “at the time, [he] really needed a reminder to follow his dream of being a writer.” Walker says his tattoos serve a similar function to his DIY patch pants, which embody the idea of adding your own art to something that’s already made. “I like that my insides—the things I believe and enjoy and value and think are beautiful—are on my outsides for other people to see,” he says.
Lucia Gasca started dyeing her hair in high school as a literal way to put color back into her life.
“During Covid, I was really bored and lonely and my life was very grey,” says the senior design major. This mundaneness negatively affected her mental health, but then she dyed her hair pink. “In a way,” she says, “I started dyeing my hair as, like, this is me taking control of something.” She says going pink took a lot of courage, but her creative nature has always made her prioritize her self-expression.
As the most liberal city in the United States, San Franciscan culture doesn’t concern itself with the negative social ethics of body modification, and instead celebrates it. Neither Snyder, Walker, Gasca nor I have faced employment issues as a result of our body modifications. Snyder points out that we live in “a very lucky bubble” in this city, as opposed to their small hometown in Colorado. Walker brings up the visibility of his tattoos, taking notice of the privilege that is, instead of having to hide them in a more conservative-thinking place. Waking up every morning and liking what you see could dictate your whole day, if not your whole life. In a world where we are constantly being asked what it is we can do for others, it’s important to take a step back and see what we can do for ourselves. For some people, that’s eyebrow piercings, patchwork tattoo sleeves or candy striped hair.
