This piercing experience was supposed simple; just a needle through my cartilage away from my end goal.
While I was laying on the table, examining my piercer’s forearm tattoos, I asked him a quick question to ease my nerves, “Would you ever consider giving someone a tattoo?” He proceeded to tell me his journey into the art scene and how he has actually given the tattooing career some thought.
As his story progressed, I began to notice multiple things about our conversation.
He told me that he has been to one figure drawing class but, to his dismay, the model was an older male. He continued, expressing his infuriation that the model was not female. This began triggering my mind a bit, but little did I know things were about to head further downhill.
He continued with my piercing process, everything running smoothly until he decided to jump back into the previous conversation full-forced. He goes on saying that as a man, he is more inclined to draw the woman’s body because he enjoys hips and, I quote, “under bust.”
You can imagine my surprise at the way the conversation has turned. Fully triggered, I am conjuring up how to end this conversation quickly and efficiently.
But, inevitably, and to my obvious discomfort, he continued with his one-sided discussion. He told me, “If I became a tattoo artist I would only do tattoos of naked women because that is what I like best.” By this point, I am pierced and ready to make a run from this toxic masculinity. My luck, however, is very lacking in situations like this.
It was like the whole process was moving in slow motion. I got up from the table. I took a quick glance in the mirror to make sure the piercing actually happened, confirming I wasn’t in shock by the conversation. I walked to the desk to pay. The machine stalls. I racked my mind of a simple small talk conversation starter.
Phrases like, “Wow the weather is nice today” completely vanished from my brain, abandoning me during my time of need. The machine picked up, I signed my name and briskly walked out of the shop and to my car. Finally exited, I had time to dissect what happened. What I found is this:
It is easy to view conversations like this as normal. It is scary to think that we overlook so many details of conversations, ultimately missing opportunities to stand up for ourselves. I immediately regretted not retaliating at his comments, but I guess that's the reason for writing this article now. Women and their bodies are sexualized in ways that are overshadowing to their talents, image and purpose.
This small talk gone wrong led to my personal realization that our society has become numb to these offenses. This numbness will be our downfall. Awaken your minds and souls and stop the over-sexualization of women and we will stop being “sensitive” about the subject, I promise.
