What do you see when you close your eyes and imagine someone getting a tattoo?
Growing up, this thought prompted a frightening image in my head. I’d picture a hypermasculine man in a dark room drinking beer while getting a tattoo of a giant bald eagle clutching a knife in its claw.
As a needle outlined my first tattoo on Oct. 24, I wondered what led society to automatically stigmatize tattoos. It’s just another form of body art, like makeup, fashion and jewelry.
Archaeological evidence of tattoos has been traced all the way back to 3000 B.C.
For some ancient societies, like the Thracians, it was considered a mark of nobility. However, for others, like the ancient Greeks, it was used as a form of punishment and shame.
Although tattoos are no longer used in that way, associations of defiance and rebellion persist to this day.
I believe that unless you have something offensive tattooed on you, it should not raise an alarm about your character. A tattoo is a form of self-expression.
I chose to honor my mom, Elizabeth, through mine. She passed away from cancer in March of 2019. My mom was a tough lady, but she also had a soft side. She loved children’s cartoons and I wanted to immortalize that side of her on my body.
Once, my mom found a pinback button at work that featured Snoopy, Charlie Brown’s dog in the famous cartoon named Peanuts, and she gifted it to me.
Thankfully the artist who drew Snoopy on my arm was not judgemental or intimidating. He heard my idea and gave artistic guidance while never imposing judgment.
Through tattoos, we are able to celebrate and enhance our uniqueness. Not all tattoos have to come from a serious place like mine, all that matters is that you love what you’re getting permanently on your skin.
Your body is a blank canvas and you should paint it with your favorite colors.
