Recently I was looking around the room during one of my classes and realized nearly every person surrounding me had a visible tattoo. Although many of my friends and even professors have tattoos, there is still such a negative connotation of tattoos among those in older generations. As a woman with three tattoos and counting, I can't help but become frustrated when people make snide remarks about me "marking my skin for life".
By no means do I feel obligated to explain or defend the choices I make regarding my body, but I thought I would share what tattoos mean to me.
I first tainted my skin in the summer of 2016.
Shortly after my 18th birthday and high school graduation, I decided to act on the idea that I had been deliberating for years. Since seventh grade, I knew I wanted not just any tattoo, but specifically a tattoo of a Hamsa. Many know this symbol as the ornate hand that frequently has an eye at the center of it, but since my childhood, I have known the hamsa as a Jewish symbol of protection. Rather than incorporate the eye into my tattoo I chose to incorporate the chai, which is my middle name. In Hebrew, the chai represents life, which is a concept that I hold very close to me.
My next tattoo came in April of 2017.
February 19, 2008. The day my father adopted me. My Barker Birthday. This serves as a constant reminder of the love and bond that I share with my father. This, just like the hamsa, is a marker of my identity. It is a reminder if not to others, to myself of who I am. There are many people that are unaware that my father adopted me. It is something easy not to discuss, and kind of brush under the rug. This tattoo reminds me to be proud of my adoption, of my unique family dynamics, and of myself.
My most recent tattoo is my favorite tattoo.
As a Christmas present, my mom and I got matching tattoos of "enough" in December of 2017. Not only does this tattoo remind me of my best friend each time I see it, but it serves as a reminder to both of us that we are enough. For me, this tattoo is a huge middle finger to anxiety and depression- to all mental illness. Despite what struggles we are facing or negative thoughts roam our minds, despite the weight and efforts of anxiety and depression we will be enough for ourselves.
See, these tattoos are not acts of defiance, a permanent solution to a temporary problem, or me ruining my body. Each of my tattoos holds a special place in my heart. They were not spur-of-the-moment decisions, but long and thought out ones.
In 30 years will I regret covering my body in ink? No. Because anything that made me happy at one time deserves recognition. That time of joy is not worthy of regret.
Tattoos are not subject to a single meaning. They transform my body into a moving photo album: snapshots in time. When I turn in the mirror and see the hamsa painted on my back I remember two of my best friends, Katie and Carly being there for me during my first tattoo. I remember the fresh and frightening feeling of leaving high school and beginning college.
With the twist of my left wrist, I imagine the friendships created at Butler as Becky and Bri shared this experience with me. In this moment I can feel the uncertainty of my direction in life. I remember a time of struggle and success. And now, as I push up the right sleeve of my flannel I see the woman I have become and am becoming. I see a woman who is confident, passionate, and simply happy. I am reminded of the appreciation I have for my family at this very moment.
Maybe this won't change your opinion of tattoos. Maybe you'll continue to see them as trashy, or unprofessional. You're entitled to your opinion, but I am also entitled to the agency of my own body. For that reason, I will continue to add photographs to my photo album.
