The generations X and Y are also referred to as the slacker generations.

Tabbed as lazy, under-achieving, apathetic, grungy, spoiled kids, many choose to project a counter-cultural image, proudly exhibiting body piercings, tattoos, and surgical implants.

But a few of these decorated members of society are actually engaging in acts of altruism, to make Salem a better place to live. Some are even wearing their activism as an inked badge of honor.

"I've done stuff for breast cancer, muscular dystrophy and Alzheimer's organizations. I buy Christmas presents for the women's crisis center every year. I've built playgrounds for the school district," said volunteer Michael Mullican. "I have a full sleeve [tattoo]. I started with my chest and I have a breast cancer tatt for my Grandma."

Mullican has one of the most diverse volunteering portfolios, but the causes that Salem's alternative crowd champion are as disparate as their body mods.

A couple of years ago, former skateboard shop owner Kevin Porterfield spearheaded the Dokument Skate Camp project. Porterfield and other experienced skateboarders realized that Salem kids needed a safe place to practice and learn, and built a free, indoor park from scratch at the Oregon State Fairgrounds.

"When we were growing up, we didn't have a place like this," said Gabe Stultz. He spends his Friday evenings teaching kids how to skateboard at no cost, and stops by the park on his way home from work to make sure the ramps are secure and the screws are tight.

Volunteers who have passed criminal background checks take turns supervising, and donate about three weeks of work twice a year to move the whole park when other events are held at the site.

That's why A.J. Omstead has taken it upon himself to build a permanent skateboarding park. He's starting a nonprofit, working to get sponsors, and meeting with city officials and neighborhood associations.

"City Parks had the land set aside. They were just waiting for volunteers to step up," Omstead said. "There was a need, and it took so long for the city to react that we had to take it into our own hands."

Omstead has a tattoo including the words 'skateboard 'til the wheels fall off.'

"Volunteering gives you a sense of community pride. There are over one hundred people here tonight. What else would they be doing? It's raining out," he said.

Porterfield is proud of the what the project adds to the community because it gets kids off the couch, gives them a sense of accomplishment, and provides them with a form of transportation, he said.

"And there's a lot of talent in Salem," he added. "Some kids can make a successful career out of it."

Russ Brown, 29, a tattoo artist at Oregon Tattoo, also volunteers to help Salem kids have a better time. He sponsors raffles and donates tattoos to help support the local businesses that promote music and free entertainment, such as Normandy Guitar and The Space.

"I choose to support the community in the things that I respect," he said.

Other tattoo artists (aka permanent color technicians) in town are contributing in different ways.

Emily Cahal, who owns Addictions Body Piercing & Tattoo, prefers to help people based on their individual needs.

"We donate every day to someone who walks by," she said.

Addictions was the first downtown store to direct runaway and homeless youth to supportive organizations such as HOME Youth & Resource Center. They are also participating in an alternative career fair Feb. 1 at the IKE Box.

At Hot Rod Betties, fundraisers are held a couple of times every year for the American Cancer Society. Workers reach out to other businesses and donate tattoos for various causes. They also allow individuals to set up donation jars in the studio, and sometimes match the amount donated.

"We're always down to help people in need," said Tommy Major, a Hot Rod artist. In a recent pro bono project, Major recently inked a 19-year-old in exchange for finishing his drug and alcohol treatment.

"I told him I would, so a few months later he came by to show me his diploma and I did a big castle on his arm," Major recalled.

People practice body modifications for all kinds of reasons.

"It used to be older people, army guys, bikers, bad boys and outcasts. Now it's an 18-year-old church-going girl, a 40-year-old devil worshiper, or your grandma. It's everybody," said Major.

While an entire family might get pink ribbons tattooed to raise cancer awareness, sometimes body modifications may be reminders of past mistakes.

Alex Seufert is just 16 years old, but he's already been in and out of gangs. He volunteers as the liaison for Northgate Park, and has received several awards for his work, including the Mayor's Merit Award and the Distinguished Service Award.

"The gangs respect me volunteering, and they've stopped their graffiti in the park," said Saufert, who often walks around the park trying to recruit other youth. "I tell them my story and invite them to show up to volunteer."

On Jan. 18, Seufert supervised volunteers for the Peace and Forgiveness Garden on the site where Montez Bailey, a student at Chemeketa Community College, was fatally shot in May 2009. With the help of Marion-Polk Food Share, he helped coax the Salem officials into donating half an acre of park land, previously a homeless campground, to plant crops and flowers.

When he traded gang life for volunteering, Seufert decided to remove his piercings and three dots tattoo, which he felt would have contradicted the example he's trying to set. The three dot tattoo can have multiple meanings, but is generally accepted as meaning "Mi vida loca," or "my crazy life."

"I work with the young and with families and I don't want them to take the same path I did. Me being a leader ... I don't think that's a good way to look," said Seufert, recalling that his little brother had once painted the three dots on his skin.

However, Seufert welcomes everyone to his projects, no matter how they look.

"There are gang members and emo people. There are people out there who want to volunteer, but they don't feel comfortable doing it. I don't care how they look, if they paint their nails and they're boys, or if they have freaky hair. All that touches my heart is that they want to come volunteer. And I don't want anyone to be disrespected," he said.

Randy Plumb, 27, is the Program Director at Stitch's Youth Center, a non-profit faith-based center that provides spiritual counseling and advice to at-risk youth in the downtown Salem area.

He has been a full-time (and mostly overtime) volunteer for six years in the same organization.

"I'm blessed to have a lovely wife with a job to support me," he said. "I used to be a street kid. I used to be heavy into drugs and drinking, which leads to nowhere."

Although Plumb has several piercings and tattoos, he says they are not related to his past life.

"Lots of people see it as a drug-related thing, when it's really not. I know lots of ordained ministers who have piercings and tattoos, which breaks the stereotype. It's just a form of expression. We're just like everybody else, we just have a different fashion sense, I guess. [Besides] God only cares about the inside, not the outside."

Stitch's is always looking for new volunteers, and welcomes those on the alternative side of spectrum.

"It makes the kids feel more comfortable if they can relate to us. The majority of our staff has been on the streets. We come from the same culture as them," said Plumb.

At HOME Youth & Resource Center, which provides basic needs for runaway and homeless youth, outreach worker Shawna Canaga couldn't agree more. She lived in shelters and was in and out of drug and alcohol treatments as a teenager.

"I wasn't super-qualified for the job, but I've been there, done that, and I look like them. So kudos to Community Action, the Commission of Children and Families, and the HOME Center for realizing you've got to have diversity in staff," said Canaga, who hopes to see a more heterogeneous mix of people working in all fields relating to the youth, from high schools to foster care.

"I'm not saying everyone should be alternative, but there should be more diversity, so that everyone can connect to someone," she said.

Canaga believes her alternative looks help break the ice with the kids.

"If I was wearing stilettos and [carrying] a briefcase, kids wouldn't want to talk to me," she said.

Instead, newcomers approach her to talk about metal music and video games. "I have a heart for teenagers; it's where I belong. I'm not what kids consider an adult."

In the adult world, it's a different story.

"I've been laughed at during meetings, and some people get surprised I can talk. I love to break stereotypes and preconceived notions. It's 2010. We can be smart, alternative, and care, all at the same time," said Canaga, who has been a college student for the last fifteen years, concentrating in feminist philosophy.

At HOME, many of the youth create their own volunteer projects, such as neighborhood clean-ups and nursing home visits.

Although body modifications are a very popular trend in our community, many people face prejudices.

Kris McMillan, a manager at Boon's Treasury, complains of getting bad service at restaurants and unfriendly looks when walking through the streets of Salem.

Cahal's husband was recently denied a prescription for pain medication while suffering from a kidney infection because of the visible tattoos on his wife's arm.

"I'm the only grandma on my block with a skull on my hand," said Cahal with satisfaction. "And I am college educated, never been arrested, raised a very traditional family, and I don't use drugs or drink alcohol. I'm a homeowner and a taxpayer, and I employ several people. I am no different than your local PTA parent - only I am better decorated," she said, admitting she likes the "wow factor" of her tattoos. "People with visible tattoos are not shy. We love it when people come up to us, it fills a need for attention," she said.

Major, the Hot Rod tattoo artist, sometimes likes the attention his sleeves, covered with skulls, bring upon him. Sometimes, that is.

When he worked as a cook at Applebees, he had to go out the back door so that customers wouldn't notice his adornments.

"I don't put tattoos on my hands because I want a day off. That's what I call it, a day off," he said. He also thinks he's been rejected as a home renter due to his looks.

"You might lose the best job in your life because of a tattoo," he warned.

Marie Foote, a 21-year-old student of criminal justice and an employee at the Book Bin who has spent many hours volunteering with young girls suffering from personality disorders and at the Humane Society, won't even dare to apply for some jobs, fearing they'd turn her away because of the visible tattoo on her forearm.

"I could be totally qualified for a job and I probably wouldn't apply," she said. "I wouldn't want to hide my tattoo from them the whole time."

Places out of bounds for Foote include restaurants and professional settings.

Diversity is a sensitive issue. While body modifications have come to represent the free spirit of modern generations in the U.S., they're still looked down upon in many other countries. In Islam as in Judaism, tattoos are strictly forbidden, while some Christians loathe them and some embrace them.

In many foreign countries, especially for the more mature public, they may symbolize a violent past, or involvement with illegal or psychiatric drugs. This is one reason why some organizations think twice before hiring a worker or volunteer with many visible tattoos or piercings.

"Many [Ukrainian] clients would see it as a disrespect. They wouldn't be able to trust you, and if they didn't trust you, how could they come to you for help?" explained Lesya Chira, director of the interpreter program at YWCA, an organization which is actually very willing to hire and recruit alternative people, but as in most businesses and organizations, the target audience or client must be taken into consideration, not to offend their cultural standpoint.

At HandsOn Mid-Willamette Valley (handsonmwv.org), a volunteer action center that helps connect people (anyone and everyone) with the right agency or project for which they can volunteer, the staff works with partners to help them address their liability and safety concerns regarding potential volunteers, said Khela Singer-Adams, HandsOn MWV Director.

"We want to know when people get turned down so we can change that. After so many times of being turned down, the stereotype becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, and they stop trying," said Chelsea Whitlow, another professional volunteer, herself vastly pierced and tattooed.

Whitlow holds a Bachelor's in psychology with minors in visual arts and philosophy from Oregon State University, yet she's been turned down from jobs, she thinks, based on her appearance.

"They thought I'd be slurring because of my tongue ring," she said.

HandsOn MWV volunteers have noticed a large increase in the engagement of the so-called "slacker" generation compared to other generations. At a Jan. 18 volunteer sign-up event, more than 100 youth showed up. Greater participation is leading to a power struggle in Salem, according to Singer-Adams.

"Young, alternative people are rising up. And there are tensions while that shift is happening, with the people who don't want them to rise up. Who will take power? Will they work together?"