DON'T TAKE THE PIERCE OUT OF ME!

Many students choose to get bits of metal stuck through various parts of their bodies. Sometimes these acts of physical graffiti are subtle, other times not. But why do they do it?

THE BARTENDER’S Monroe piercing caught my eye, a metal punctuation mark added to an attractive face. Manchester students may have unlimited choice when it comes to beautification, but do some adornments have other connotations? Body piercings have been used for centuries by cultures around the world to express cultural norms including fashion, eroticism, religion, and conformism. 
Cut to the Shiva piercing studio in Affleck’s palace. I'm meeting Rory who works there and knows the origin of modern body piercing down to every last urban myth. He says it “came out of the 1960s, gay, hippie and punk communities.” He pokes holes in the far-fetched histories that evolved from this decade, commenting that “it is unlikely Roman centurions attached their capes to nipple piercings.”
Rory is also sceptical about the racy piercings of the Victorian era, swept up in Manchester’s past and known for public purity and private debauchery. Society women got their nipples pierced and there are "rumours that Prince Albert needed a dressing ring to hold his penis to one side to wear fashionably tight trousers." I wonder how Queen Victoria reacted, whose glacial expression bears down on us in Piccadilly Gardens. 
Yet my interviewee does not trust tales of Roman bravado and Victorian fashion statements. Neither does he confirm that body piercings are a map of someone’s sexuality and reveal rebellious streaks in their personality. Unfortunately, the most I get out of Rory is that “most straight men get their left ear pierced as the right is a sign of homosexuality.”
Rory had a spring clean on the body-piercing front, inching his outsider status toward social acceptability. Last year he shrunk a 24 mm in diameter ear lobe to 6mm, reduced a total of 45 body piercings to a nose piercing, two plug ear piercings, a tragus and a naval piercing. He informs me, “before my piercings were too much, these ones are more permanent.”
Evidence of more extreme piercings originates from the Mayan civilisation of South America. Diego de Landa, a sixteenth century bishop described the sacrificial rituals involved, including men cutting their cheeks, lips and tongues and remarked that often cords and pieces of straw were forced through the incisions "with horrible suffering".
Specific implements believed to have special powers such as sting ray spires were favoured for elite blood offerings. Eventually Spanish friars condemned the ritual as dangerous, heretical and terminated its practices. The banishment of body art is also referred to in the Old Testament, Leviticus 19:28 "Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead..."
This did not, however, prohibit the use of piercings by Mayans for social status and to improve their looks. One historian comments that lower class men and women wore simple loop earrings made out of stone, shell, bone or wood. They altered their appearance with lip and nose plugs. Elite figures wore lip plugs, earrings and nose plugs made from obsidian, jade or stone.
Despite their later censorship, Mayan society never used body piercings to test higher authority. They not only favoured them for spiritual worship, but ensured all members of society wore piercings of different quality according to their status.
In other cultures only royalty or special talent merited body piercings. A statue discovered of the Egyptian pharaoh King Akhenaten from 1350 BC confirms this. During Akhenaten's reign the traditional method of figure representation altered to emphasise the King's uniqueness. The sculptor carved out a hole above the naval widely considered to be a belly button piercing. A dangling piece of gold jewellery from the pharaoh's naval would not have gone unnoticed.
During the sixteenth century Europeans reserved earrings for "people of wit, ingenuity and creative ambition". Enter William Shakespeare. The National Portrait Gallery curator's words apply to his unusually bohemian portrait by the Duke of Chandos, with his collar strings undone and a single hoop earring. It was not only Royalty then that was awarded unique body markings.
Back in Rory's studio I size up the talent in the snake-like queue. Does anyone in this line really deserve a piercing as much as a Mayan social climber, a mighty pharaoh, a literary legend or the Hindu deity and namesake of the studio, Shiva? Other than arguably improving our looks, we are copying the ways other cultures have adorned themselves, expressed their beliefs, shown their status or marked important moments in their lives.
However, in the past twenty years the body art movement has reached new creative and technical heights. New contemporary piercings have been donned celebrity names known for their beauty such as the Monroe, Madonna for the right and Crawford for the top lip. Others with ancient origin are referred to colloquially as anglebites (two upper lip piercings on opposite sides of the mouth) or smilies (visible when the wearer smiles.) 
Recent interest in the “sociology of body marks in cool societies” challenges the Western concept of the body as immaculate and unmarked. In his article Turner suggests that body piercings are undertaken in an increasingly globalised society as a rejection of mainstream culture.
What about students at Manchester, how do they feel about their own body piercings? Since my first appreciation of a body piercing, admittedly on someone of the opposite sex, I've expanded from pure sex appeal to ancient civilisations, unconventional Royals (Prince Albert excluded), the star of English literature and back to Rory and his awaiting customers in Shiva studio in Afflecks palace. Now I decide to talk to students with piercings on campus.
The dark interior of the Students’ Union makes it difficult to find them, but eventually I spot Craig Marsh who is in his fourth year doing pharmacy and wearing a silver crucifix in his left ear. He tells me that after getting it done aged ten, “I was teased at school for looking like a girl and took it out six weeks later. I had the piercing redone last year.” He did not wear the crucifix for religious reasons, but liked the look of it.
In the Lime café I talk to two second years doing Spanish, Portuguese and Latin American studies. Katy Bailes says, “I had my ears pierced and wanted another piercing done, but didn't want anything crazy so I got my nose done.” She adds, “I got my nose pierced while travelling in Brazil. It reminds me of my time there”. Francis Robertson also has a nose piercing and says, “I don't have any regrets about getting it done. I basically got it because my mates did.”
En route to the Vegetarian café I meet Lizzie Shakespeare, another language student with two nose piercings, a Monroe piercing, a snakebite (two lower lip piercings) and a labret (bottom lip). She says she “got both sides of my nose done just for symmetry. The rest are just decoration really.” Lizzie tells me “My flatmates won't let me get any more facial piercings. I am going to stick with tattoos from now on.” Her mum doesn't like them either and they cost £155 altogether, so she has made a sacrifice. Lizzie lets me take her photograph; she is more than happy to flaunt her art. 
Esaúl Ruiz Narbona, an Erasmus student from Seville, has two hoops in his left ear and says, “I got the piercings done just for decoration. I got them in my left ear because in Spain they say a right ear piercing means you are gay.” Away from show-off Sevillian culture, he stands proud for his photograph on the grey Union steps. 
Strangers and friends alike are comfortable with talking about their body piercings. In a busy working environment Rory told me all the intimate details, while students going about their business on campus gave their time and shared their stories. They all revealed their weakness to compromise their body art to a level that suited the onlooker. Rory shrunk his earlobes, Craig took out his girly piercing while at school and Lizzie worries about the reaction of her flatmates.
In Mayan culture body piercings were worn according to social rank. Classier Mayas wore earring made of precious gemstones. Other cultures censored the art of body piercing even more exclusively. Ancient Egyptian society grudgingly permitted King Akhenaten to pierce his belly button, while only the most creative acts of the sixteenth century were entitled to pierce their ears.   
To apply these rules to our culture, only the toffs and creative talents at The University of Manchester would be able to wear body piercings of their choice. Chav status would crumble and Martin Amis would wear a hoop earring. Not an enticing prospect. 
Andy Warhol predicted in the 1960s, when body piercing became fashionable, that “In the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.” He didn’t take into account that a fleeting flash of bling buys us a few extra seconds.