Last Tuesday, August 2nd, I had an interview for an internship in the State House. Naturally, I had to dress professionally, so I sported my navy blue skirt suit, black high heels and a simple white top underneath. I looked like I was about to enter the Law and Order: Special Victims Unit courtroom. I felt confident, but not myself, as I was not used to dressing with that much prestige. I had become one of the high-class working people in the city I like to call 'suits.' However, there was one thing missing:

My nose ring.

As I walked down the bustling city streets at 11:00 a.m. many things were different. From the very minute I hopped on the train to get to my meeting, people gazed and gawked, some even whistled, and others bid me good morning. I noticed that more of these 'suits' were talking to me, a twenty year old girl, with more respect than I normally received from the usual scoffs and ignorance.

This may sound silly, but my skirt suit gave me power. Other 'suits' - the same people I see every day on the train and on the same route - noticed me. They said things like 'hello' and 'have a lovely afternoon.' They offered me their umbrella, as it was raining that day. These 'suits' went out of their way for me, something that never happened any other day of the week. I was respected solely for the reason that I was deemed a powerful woman in a suit with somewhere important to be.

But, what if I were wearing my nose ring? Would people still treat me the same?

I performed a social experiment the next day, where I wore my suit again, but put my nose ring back in its home - my nose. I left my house at the same time, saw the same people, and things changed in the slightest. Some still greeted me with good morning and smiled, and others - when they got too close - saw the nose ring and shot me a strange look.

Because I couldn't possibly be a powerful and respected woman in a suit with a nose ring, too, right?

Every week day I take the train into the city for school, hanging out with friends, finding hidden bookstores, exploring and many other endeavors. I blend into the background like a green bush in a watercolor painting. I wear jeans and a shirt and I walk by these same 'suits' and they do not shoot me a second glance. They keep their eyes fixated forward, because since I have a nose ring and I'm not wearing a suit, I couldn't possibly be anyone of very much importance - not even worth saying hello to.

The moral of my social experiment is an ancient life lesson that some, much older, 'suits' have yet to learn: Do not judge a book by its cover. Do not judge me by my piercings, my sweatshirt with paint staining the cuffs, or even by my skirt suit.

Judge me by my worth ethic. Judge me by what sets my heart ablaze. Judge me by all of the things inside me that make me, me. Judge me by the volunteering I do for my church. Judge me by my love for Jesus. Judge me for my sense of morality. Judge me by how I treat others.

My nose ring and my skirt suit have not built me up to the human being I am today. Every day I may not wear a suit, and some days I may wear my nose ring. These materials do not make me any less respectable. Because some people with tattoos and piercings and other 'less respectable' parts of them are kinder than many 'suits' I have encountered.

To the 'suits' I may just be a girl on the train with a nose ring, but to me I am a girl here to set the world on fire. With power and respect.