I was twenty years old, and enrolled in Swarthmore College, in the class of 1978. It was spring break and I was visiting my uncle Jim Johnson. He was my mom’s brother, and lived in Pennsylvania. He had brown hair, with a touch of red, which contrasted exceptionally with my blonde, almost white, hair. I often went to visit him during small school breaks, for he was my only relative in Pennsylvania. He also had a daughter that was a friend of mine. She was named Linda, and was my age, with raven hair that flowed down her back like water.

One of the things that I liked to do while there, besides hanging out with Linda, was to admire and examine my uncle’s models. He made intricate, detailed, and incredibly accurate models of houses, churches, and trains.

On one of the days, I was standing downstairs next to Uncle Jim. We were in front of his models, I admiring them, and he just spending time with me. While we were talking, I brought up a topic that concerned me-ear piercing. I was interested in getting my ears pierced, but ear piercing seemed to be part of the whole American cultural thing that I didn’t like, where women feel they have to adorn themselves, make themselves ‘pretty’. Two examples of this are putting on makeup or shaving their legs. And only the women did it. It angered me to see that half of the American population (the female half) were trying to fit into molds. “Women in this society aren’t free,” I said. “It is as if all that matters is their appearance.” My uncle Jim said, “But if you react against everything women think they need to do, then you aren’t free to do what you want either. If you rebel against molds and being forced into them, then you yourself become ensnared. By opposing them, you’re suppressing yourself.” He then asked me, “Would you personally like to get your ears pierced?”

I smiled and said, “Thank you, Uncle Jim. You’re right. And yes, I would indeed like very much to get my ears pierced.” And I went off that same day to get my ears pierced.