On the day I turned 18, before I went to buy the traditional coming-of-age pack of cigarettes, I took a detour and got my belly button pierced. It was essentially a spur-of-the-moment decision (not counting the fact that #56 on my bucket list at the time was to pierce a part of my body other than my ear).
I, like a surprising number of Duke students, was raised in a very strict household where it was considered wrong to embrace my sexuality and to feel sexy. I abstained from even kissing boys until I was a junior in high school, whereupon I discovered in the backseat of my mother’s car something excitingly beautiful that I had been missing out on. While my sister, on the other hand, remains cynical and afraid of men, I grew to enjoy feeling sexy. It made me feel good about myself in a way I had never experienced. So I got the piercing, not for anyone else (I was going through one of those post-breakup, self-righteous, swearing-off-all-guys phases at this point anyways), but so that I could have this little sensual secret between myself and the underside of my t-shirt. Something about this concealment and the lack of a need to flaunt the piercing made it all the more appealing. Unquestionably the Indians and their belly dancers knew what they were talking about when they claimed that the navel is the center of a woman’s sexuality. I felt like a woman and this was my symbol, my tattoo of that coming-of-age. I liked the way my body looked. And my parents couldn’t get in the way of that for once because they didn’t know.
E
very so often at Duke, when a girl wears a cropped shirt or moves in a certain way that makes her shirt ride up, I’ll catch a silver glint of a barbell. One night as I was studying in my common room, a girl came back from Shooters, her shirt pushed upwards in drunken disarray to reveal a pierced navel. Like the freak that I am, I always get thrilled at these kinds of things, and they make me feel a sense of camaraderie (the only sort of camaraderie an overly caffeinated econ-midterm-cramming girl can feel with an overly drunk Wednesday night shooters girl, anyway). Enthused, I exclaimed, “I didn’t know you had a belly button piercing!” She glanced down at her stomach hesitantly. “Yeah…” she trailed off and tugged her shirt down slightly (although if I were her I would have been more concerned with the skirt), “I try to keep it under wraps because I feel like people here judge you for that, you know?”
Huh. Duke’s reputation of being insanely judgmental and intolerant is not completely true, but the stereotype is not entirely unfounded either. Especially at an elite institution where many hail from conservative households, it would make sense that Duke students regard our piercings differently than the people from the West Coast party-all-day public school atmosphere that I grew up in would. Both Duke guys who have commented on my piercing while hooking up were taken aback by its presence, but seemed to definitely be okay with it. In fact, one of them liked it so much he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off of it. In my own experiences, almost every guy I have ever hooked up with has commented on my belly button piercing and has liked it immensely, often times communicating such a sentiment explicitly, or else implicitly by playing with it. You know guys and shiny things. Especially shiny things on the bared stomach of a girl they want. Boys react like birds that see tin foil and, impressively, that shiny glint of a barbell is the only thing that will distract them from the sexual thoughts that are coursing almost tangibly through their mind when they see it. That feat has gotta be worth something.
However, an important life lesson I’ve learned is that just because a guy “likes” something and finds it appealing, does not mean he respects it. Call me a boy, but I also like to play with smooth, shiny things. This has led to many inelegant moments where I will be sitting in a boring lecture in Griffith, studying in Perkins, or grabbing lunch in the Great Hall, and my hand will be tucked in the most awkward way possible underneath my shirt. Yes, it looks weird. As a result of my actions, combined with my tendency to wear shorter-length tops, many people know that I have my belly button pierced. I have been told by several of my guy and girl friends alike that the outfit/piercing combination, coupled with my naturally flirty, outgoing personality and love of sexual innuendos, has given the first impression that I was of a promiscuous nature. “Certainly not a virgin” as my roommate phrased it.
Essentially, a conclusion had been drawn based on naught but stereotypes. It was not until they got to know me better did they realize that, compared to many of the other girls in our dorm and at Duke, I am relatively sexually conservative. Although I enjoy hooking up, I hate its stigma and the shallowness of its fleeting pleasure. I have yet to sexile my roommate. However, like a lot of “sexually loose” women out there, I have a piercing. So I deserve answers like: “I mean, Dude you’re belly button is pierced for God’s sake,” in response to questions about why a guy I like might be acting a certain way towards me. And it’s not just any piercing, but a – gasp – dangling piercing! (So much more fun to play with, by the way.) From this fact, individuals are somehow able to derive the conclusion that my dangling rhinestone flower must imply AN EXTENDED OFFER FOR MY DEFLOWERMENT.
This bothers me. My piercing was never meant to be a tacit “Hello, I’m DTF” sign. So I am taking this moment to make a commentary on Duke society. I am not a slut. Nor am I some raging feminist of the “sexually liberated” brand. I am just a Duke girl subject to all the same confidence crushers that every Duke woman, and frankly all Duke students, are subject to. Like many other girls, I will wear sexy lingerie under my sweatpants on a Monday even when I know nobody is going to see because I’m having a bad hair day but still want to feel sexy. Feeling sexy translates into feeling confident. There is nothing wrong with me being pleased with the fact that a guy likes my piercing. But if you, based off of your own lack of confidence, are going to judge me and try to bring me down when all I am doing is making the most of feeling good about my body, as opposed to seeking reinforcement through male justification, then all you are doing is bolstering the culture of intolerance that comprises Duke’s reputation. I know my story as a Duke student with a belly button piercing is far from unique, so do us ALL a favor: accept without prejudgment of others who have navel piercings and leave yours bare, or get yours pierced as well (several of my friends recommend Dogstar Tattoo Company which is walking distances from East on Main St.) and please, PLEASE let us all sport matching Duke barbells at the next Blue Devils basketball game!
<3 Lilith
Photo source: http://www.amazon.com/Duke-Blue-Devils-Belly-Navel/dp/B006378O4I/ref=sr_1_1?s=jewelry&ie=UTF8&qid=1333247621&sr=1-1
http://www.buzzle.com/articles/double-navel-piercing.html
http://beautifulythinplease.xanga.com/733350836/belly-button-piercing-thinspo/
http://qpiercing.com/blog/category/navel-piercing/page/4
http://qpiercing.com/blog/category/navel-piercing/page/12
http://bitchinblogginbandit.blogspot.com/2011/06/dirty-diana.html