By the Nose
Today's Conformist Punks
I got my ear pierced when I was a freshman in college. It was radical at that time for a guy to wear earrings, but a good friend of mine, Emily, talked me into it. Emily had probably a dozen piercings in each ear; a gleaming cascade of thin, gold hoops all down each pinna—the cartilage of the outer ear. I thought Emily was badass, so when she urged me to let the chick at our local Claire’s shoot a stud into my earlobe, I went for it. I got the left ear pierced, because at that time, a right ear piercing indicated you were gay, and I wasn’t out yet. The only guys in the ‘80s who got both ears pierced were gangster rappers, and I was never gonna be that badass.
Perhaps, as I got older, I felt bad-assier, as I did eventually get the right ear pierced as well. At 35, I got my first tattoo, and since then, I’ve been inked a dozen separate times. For a few years, I had my nipples pierced. They looked great, but never healed right, and eventually were more trouble than they were worth. All this oversharing, friends, represents a kind of disclaimer to preface this week’s sassy essay. I am absolutely a body modification fan. Adult people who choose to express themselves by piercing, stretching, scarifying, inking…or plumping, botoxing, filling, nipping, tucking, and any number of other cosmetic alterations: have at it. Zei gezunt. You do you. It can be a very liberating thing to be pierced or tattooed—to take the destiny of your body into your own hands—well, technically, into someone else’s hands.
The first time I saw a septum piercing was on a punk rocker I saw on the T—Boston’s subway system—while a student in the 1980s. He was wearing a black leather jacket with the huge white “A” for Anarchy on the back; he sported the massive fin of a red-tipped mohawk hairstyle; and smack in the middle of his scowling face, there it was: a big, thick silver ring in his nose, like a door knocker. I was fascinated and repulsed at the same time. I think that’s always been the appeal of Punk—the queasy, titillating duality of fascination and repulsion. Punk was confrontational, non-conformist, anarchic, in your face. The ten gauge ring in the middle of that punker’s face said: Look at me, look at me! —and, simultaneously— What are you looking at? FUCK YOU.
Today, we see Punk style being adopted—consciously, or more likely, unconsciously—by young Woke activists, be their cause climate change or gender identity. The crayon box of artificial hair colors. The gender-swapped wardrobe choices. The black nail polish and rainbow makeup. The confrontational political and ideological t-shirt slogans, and pins, and symbols, and flags. The Woke have fashioned for themselves a new stereotype, which commentators and comics have seized upon and made a great deal of hilarious hay out of. Also ubiquitous amongst this new punk activist tribe is the sporting of the septum piercing.
I did a deep dive on the interwebs into the history and significance of the septum piercing in preparation for this essay. What I’ve found has been quite eye-opening. Most of the piercing and jewelry sites I visited offer a cultural history of the piercing, with an emphasis on the spiritual significance assigned to it by ancient civilizations, indigenous and tribal cultures. Aztec, Mayan and ancient African shamans believed the piercing enhanced their ability to connect with the spirit realm. This is true also in Native American tribal culture. The Hindu term for the piercing is the “Nath,” and it has traditionally been worn by yogis and ascetics. The Hindu god Lord Shiva is often depicted with a nose ring.
Lately, I’ve read and listened to some intriguing commentary on Wokeism that observes a passionate desire amongst its adherents to find a life purpose; a sense of meaning. While many Woke activists may indeed be seekers of spiritual enlightenment or evolvement, more seem to worship a set of ideas, concepts and principles, internalizing and translating them into personal behaviors, language and verbiage rituals, and the signaling of their membership in the movement via their outward appearance—the hair color, the piercings. In a way, this new religion of social justice, devoid of a higher spiritual power or supernal force, requires its followers to demonstrate their devotion by becoming living icons; sacerdotal idols. Sporting that in-your-face nose ring in the middle of one’s face sends a pretty strong message.
Another significance assigned to the septum piercing in indigenous and tribal cultures is the rite of passage of young men to adulthood and warrior status. The Dayak people of Borneo adopted it as a sign of strength and courage, believing that it protected warriors in battle. The Asmat tribe of Irian Jaya fashioned thick septum plugs from the tibia bones of their vanquished enemies. In certain North American tribes, those who embark on traditional vision quests in the wilderness will be septum pierced upon their return; a symbol of their entrance into adulthood and higher spiritual awareness.
Here’s a question: where does “cultural appropriation” come into play here? I thought one of the greatest heresies one could commit these days was to adopt something from a race or culture other than one’s own. Isn’t that a big no-no for the Woke? So why is it okay, say, for a white guy/girl/they-them to be-ring their nose, citing spiritual inspiration from Hinduism or Native American traditions? Or do we give such cultural homage the same pass we give to practitioners of yoga, or white folks who bury kimchi jars in their backyards? It’s not like these appropriators aren’t aware of the cultural roots of their nasal accessories. From Body-Piercing.com: “These septum rings or piercings might be in fashion right now, but bear in mind that before now they belonged to a rich, ancient culture. It was a way of life for them and it’s always good to respect the rich history involved.” So this is…what? The body modification equivalent of a “land acknowledgement?” PlugYourHoles.com takes a breezier approach: “At this point, you can write your own story and draw from a multitude of inspiring stories, cultures, and people.” Oh, wow. That’s what I always thought, but…hmm. Can I quote you on that? Oh, snap—I just did.
The septum piercing is often called a “bull piercing.” There’s a long tradition of inserting a ring into the nose of bulls to control them and lead them around. Nose rings are also used to wean goats, sheep, and young cattle—the ring makes suckling uncomfortable for the mother, who will push the calf away, discouraging nursing and precipitating the weaning process. I find this interesting when considered alongside the rite of passage symbolism the septum piercing is given in certain cultures. Weaning a calf—detaching the baby from its mother’s breast—shares a certain significance with the progression from child to adult; from boy to warrior. Also, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t observe that the pervasive trendiness of the nose piercing, particular amongst Woke idealists and social justice warriors, smacks somewhat of the herd: sheep, detached from Mommy’s teat, being led by the nose with the rest of their flock.
So. Back to my punker friend on the T. The punk ethos is non-conformist, anti-authoritarian; punks reject corporatism and consumerism, embracing a do-it-yourself ethic and pursuing a radical individualism. There’s little of the herd in punk culture, except, perhaps, for their full impact, balls-to-the-wall moshing, or “slam dancing,” inspired by the aggression and violence of punk rock. The Sex Pistols, the Ramones, the New York Dolls—headbanger music was always the raging heart of punk, and from it emerged incredible creativity and expression: the pioneering fashions of Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McClaren; the pop art of Warhol and Crass. In short, while they were busy banging heads, experimenting with drugs, breaking sexual taboos, tattooing and piercing themselves, tearing down gender stereotypes, and generally getting in everyone’s faces, punks made epic shit. The legacy of punk: music that stands the test of time, incredible art and literature and fashion, influencing and inspiring world culture and the mainstream—these are accomplishments that today’s punk-ish Woke radicals can’t even approach. Unless, perhaps, we want to consider the clown car creation of “neopronouns” an accomplishment.
In hardcore punk subculture, authenticity is everything. “Poser” is the worst possible epithet that can be thrown at you. A poser is a person who adopts the dress, speech, and/or mannerisms, but who lacks the true individualism, and the commitment to the ethos of punk. Seems to me that today’s cookie-cutter, septum-pierced, punk-esque conformists are nothing more than a herd of posers, leading themselves—and each other—around by the nose.