Keeping my ears

When I was a mojona, I was obsessed with wearing earrings (aretes). My parents pierced my ears while I was still young, and to reassure me that this pain at 2 years of age was not unwarranted, Mom (or Mama) would tell me that girls wore earrings and boys didn’t: “See Mama is wearing earrings and Papa isn’t.” I apparently took this to heart so much that I would get hysterics if I wasn’t wearing earrings.

One famous night, while asleep late in my crib, I hollered because I lost an earring. My parents looked and looked but it never turned up.

The crying didn’t stop.

Mama tried to explain that I would get another pair tomorrow, but my screams were relentless. Unable to convince me that I would be ok for the night, my dad went to Walgreen’s to get me whatever earrings they had available. My mom always tells me that the moment the earrings touched my ears I was asleep.

Since then I’ve never felt comfortable leaving the house without earrings. I’m sure most will think it was because I didn’t want to be a boy, which may likely be true. Knowing my gender roles and performing them even at the youngest age. But I’d like to think I screamed because I thought me ears would fall off without the dangling weight. Survival and comfort depended the jeweled heaviness that others merely she as adornment.