If I own it, I can pierce it. If I own it, I can paint it. It is mine, mine, mine, and I can do what I want with it.
That is the message that the staples-through-the-eyebrows crowd is attempting to convey, about their bodies, with their self-mutilations. Apparently Eve Ensler did not understand that when she said:
I went from Beverly Hills where women were getting vaginal laser rejuvenation surgery--paying four thousand dollars to get their labias trimmed to make them symmetrical because they didn't like the imbalance. And I flew to Kenya where [women were working to stop] the practice of female genital mutilation. And I said to myself, "What is wrong with this picture?"
What Ensler misses is that what "property" means to modern people is "that over which I am tinpot God": that the idea of ownership as responsible stewardship within a constraining and at the same time freeing web of moral obligation has passed into the dustbin of history.
I think this peculiar positive (which is to say, disconnected from moral constraint) conception of property rights in particular and liberty in general is, to use the technical term, poppycock. If an innocent child became trapped on your property, and had to be fed for nine months before carefully being extracted, that would not confer upon you the right to shoot her as a trespasser. "Owner" does not mean, and never has meant, "I am the demi-God of this patch of dirt and whatever I say is law within these fences". It doesn't mean that about your house. And it doesn't mean that about your body.