Why everybody should wait until they're 30 to get the first (of any) tattoo
From initial tattoo to cover-up, should Black people only hire Black tattoo artists?
I watched the blonde-haired, blue-eyed guy’s determined facial expression. Then, I noticed another white tattoo artist walk over, look from my arm to this tattoo artist’s face, and quietly walk over. Something was wrong. And I had a funny feeling that the artist should’ve listened to me in the first place.
I got my initial tattoo within a few months of turning 18. I copied a pose between me and my prom date, but I specifically made sure the artwork was of a guy that looked nothing like my date. Handsome as he was, I still would never get any real guy permanently sketched on my arm. (Even my date confirmed that the tattooed man looked nothing like him.) While high school friends gave the art a thumbs up, one co-worker (who was my age) said, “Why did you get prom on your arm?!”
At 17, this seemed like a genius idea — specifically because when I wasn’t collecting maroon objects and clothes, I was all about collecting Black art of couples. From Frank Morrison to Annie Lee to anybody else I randomly came across at an art exhibit, I was creating my own little print art shop. I was also getting into painting ceramics — usually people. So, why would I not get people on my arm?
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People didn’t get it. They just kept asking me, “Is that your husband? Is that your boyfriend?” and assuming I was married. I’d also bought this really pretty gold and silver band from my after-school job at a radio research firm that kept getting mistaken for an engagement ring. (See image below. I didn’t even wear it on my ring finger, and people still kept asking me if I was married.)
As I got older, the questions just kept coming in. The look of confusion when I said I was single was met with as much confusion as when I was actually dating someone who wondered if he could measure up to the guy on my arm.
Enough!
I went back to the same tattoo shop and asked for the two people to be shaded in with the words “Unity” written underneath.
And while people may not assume Generation A must be married in their 20s, for Millennials, this was still fairly common. The idea of me just having “art” on my arm wasn’t translating.
Then, I had another bright idea shortly after college. I was a self-published author, who had an S-shaped frame on her desk with a plaque attached that said, “Live To Write.” Ah ha! I went back to the same tattoo artist and asked for him to cover the two people up entirely. In place of “Unity,” add “Live To Write.” And cover up the people with an open book.
Considering the two of us were the same complexion, when he told me that shading the book in would work, I believed him. No matter how much I could still see the two people underneath that book, he insisted that they would gradually be covered. I should’ve known this was a bad decision the millisecond he asked me, “How do you spell ‘write’? Is it r-i-g-h-t?”