Hello! Today's blog post is a sort of "story time" if you will. Not all of my posts are going to be political or academic, which I hope is alright with you. (Happy reading :) 

Brighton is a town on the south coast of England, a few hours drive from London. It is typically known for having a bit more of a "laid back," liberal atmosphere. It hosts hundreds of new restaurants, has a huge LGBT community, a bustling night life, thriving music scene and is overall an awesome conglomeration of vibrant culture. Ever since I stepped foot in Brighton I realized this seaside town was unlike any of the ones I’d ever visited before. The beach is an undeniable part of who I am ever since I can remember, though the ones I’m used to are a lot warmer and sandier. Although Brighton is nothing like my esteemed beaches in San Diego, I fell in love just as fast with its atmosphere, its aura and its group of young, diverse people. Anyone that has visited Brighton before can attest to the distinct, sort of historically-loaded alternative vibes that characterize the tone of the place. It’s hard to pin point, or express with words but it is refreshing and renewing, and at least for me, influential. Some may say I might have taken the cultural influences a little bit too far during my last visit.

Something about the graffiti on the walls, the independent record stores, indie coffee shops and hipster young waiters and waitresses was alluding to the fact that I had to, just had to, semi-permanently modify an aspect of my face. The cool outlandish vibes of Brighton set me on edge for a few hours, long enough to get me inspired, and to drive me very far out of my comfort zone.

After a very satisfying Indian meal and several hours spent at a coffee shop, my friend and I had the ingenious idea of getting me a nose piercing. We casually deduced that Brighton was probably a very cool place to get one—perhaps even more appealing because of the miles away it was from my parents? Possibly. The waitress at the Indian restaurant was sporting a rather noticeable collection of face piercings that drew my attention, and when I asked about it she responded enthusiastically “You should do it!”  She directed us to the unfortunately named, but renowned piercing shop called “Punktured.”

Only a few blocks down from the restaurant we found the place. Punktured was hard to miss, distinguished by a hot pink exterior with intimidating overarching letters that spelled out the purposefully grammatically incorrect word. The inside was even more unsettling, the walls were lined up with glass cases full of all types of body jewelry imaginable, some that I couldn’t even guess what part of the body they were meant for. The people there looked substantially more badass than anything in my league but I decided to go in with my head held high and confidently request for someone to pierce my face.  After I booked an appointment and waited out the hours nervously, it was finally time to get “punktured.”

I can honestly say it was the most excruciatingly painful experience of my life—it helped to have my loyal instigator and friend (shoutout to Kendra!) taking pictures of my tearful eyes, handing me tissues and holding my hand, but the experience was nevertheless dreadful. I would genuinely not recommend it to anyone, unless you were sure you really, really wanted it. But when I looked in the mirror I loved it. It was a completely foreign object that my body was actively rejecting, but hey I’d done it, and I was proud.  At last, pierced I walked out of the shop; they even gave me a punch card in case I wanted to go back and get more piercings (the fifth one is free!)

From then on, Brighton will always signify an exciting place of risk and change for me, a beach where anyone can experiment and embrace "differentness." There will always be a fun story to go along with a postcard of an instance where youth and the unpredictability and naïve impulsiveness of it all truly flourished.  

As you can probably guess my mother completely hated and rejected the whole thing (after I'd done it) and pleaded me to take it off. I figured I was abroad for a few more months, and I could remove it at any time and have my nose go back to normal. I kept it in for a while until I eventually took it off. I don't know what it is about society that naturally finds the image of piercings and tattoos repulsive and unprofessional. I decided to take it off not because I disliked it or because my mother wanted me to, but because prospective employers would treat me differently because of it. I understand that tattoos and piercings are both unnatural alterations of the body, but they are nevertheless forms of expression. A company or a group of people shouldn't be concerned with an individual's decision to mark of perforate their bodies as they wish. It is not a mark of character or ability. It's even a highly accepted cultural and religious practice in some regions. 

I would like to know what you guys think about tattoos and piercings-- is it becoming a form of discriminating against employees? Most of all I hoped you enjoyed this little personal story! It was definitely fun for me to write and reflect on :) 

BTW.. what I mean by the experience being dreadful, is fully due to my insanely low pain tolerance--not because of the facilities or staff of Punktured, Actually, everyone there was lovely and extremely professional! If anyone was completely set on getting a piercing I would refer them to that place without a doubt.