Introduction

This narrative essay explores a silent form of suffering that permeates the souls of individuals who are different and who dare to do something that may sound unconventional compared to those around them- the suffering of being judged. Unlike being accused which signals the probability of an individual having done something wrong, being judged makes one doubt themselves, isolate themselves from people, be anxious, and have insecurities.  Being judged can make you question and have internal conflicts with yourself in ways that will only cause anxiety and even mental health issues.  I first experienced being judged in senior school when I decided to put a ring on my nose and get an eagle tattoo on my body.

Where it all began

I was raised in South Carolina as a first born daughter of staunch Mormons. We observed the religious practices faithfully and I dutifully followed my parent’s instructions until I decided to get a nose ring and an eagle tattoo when I was about seventeen years. According to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (2024), Christians are advised by their church ministers not to get tattoos because the body is considered as the temple of the holy Spirit. I never knew that this specific teaching would be used to subject me to being judged.

One Friday afternoon, a friend who sat three desks away from me in class removed her sweater because it was getting rather hot. It was just the beginning of the spring season and most people were getting used to the hot weather. When she removed her sweater, I noticed a tattoo of a woman on her right arm. The woman was depicted as a queen- with crown and other adornments.  I also noticed that she had a nose ring.

I was going to the lunch cafeteria because I had not eaten anything since morning, but her tattoo and nose ring intrigued me. I asked her why she did it. She told me that she wanted to personalize herself and identify as a strong woman, unique in her own way. She claimed that she had always dreamed of being a queen and to achieve all that she could ever achieve. Looking back, I feel that I failed to ask her whether she experienced being judged by those around her.

I exclaimed in incredulous excitement and an idea struck me. Perhaps I should also get one. I recalled many times when I had felt plain, just blending and never being myself.  I had been following my parent’s instructions and authority but that was just it. I never did anything for myself to reveal or prove my identity and show to the world the unique personality that I have. Before I went home that evening, I went to the town’s tattoo parlour and got myself a nose ring and an eagle tattoo. I wanted to fly like an eagle in my endeavours and this tattoo was a unique representation of my personality. I decided to put on a nose ring as a symbol of   the beginning of my discovery journey.

I was eager to tell my mother how I had transformed.  For a long time, I have always been close to my mother and I thought that she would never subject me to being judged. When I arrived home, I was eager to let her know how her daughter is really coming of age and is trying new things. I walked majestically and opened our gate with renewed confidence.  I found her cooking in the kitchen. She was dumbstruck and shocked when she saw me. Unfortunately, I was wearing a sleeveless top that day and she also instantaneously saw the eagle tattoo. She shouted at me, asking me what I had done. On the spur of the moment, she tried removing the nose ring and I felt intense pain. My nose reddened and I shouted to my mother,” Mum, you are hurting me.” I escaped and ran to the bathroom, where I noticed slight bleeding around my nose.

What followed were periods of intense suffering and judgement. My mother forbade me from taking my siblings to the park so that I would not negatively influence them.  My father took away the Samsung Galaxy smartphone, and the next day, against my wishes, I was taken to the parlor so that the tattoo could be removed. My parents kept telling me that I had gone against the wishes of the church. Church visitors who often came to our house on Sunday afternoon looked at me and whispered in hush tones. Deep down, I was really hurt, and being judged stung. I did not anticipate being treated like an outcast simply because I had a tattoo and a nose ring. My good behavior seemed to have been thrown out of the window.