Tattoo You: Getting Under the Skin

Spartacus is back!

My friend of yesteryear and current years – boxing coach, referee, and aficionado of the finest blues and bluegrass you could hope to weep to – read Sunday's posting, and after nearly a month unblogged here, he weighs in on a topic I'd breezed past on Sunday… so I'll have to take it up today, having plugged away at my own screed for two evenings now. Sparta-Cuss's subject-line was "March Madness"; I award him an extra Kudos® bar to him for not holding back… we all need these reality-checks!

-----Original Message-----
Sent: Sunday, March 18, 2007 11:45 PM

Good evening sir!

I read your latest blog post with interest. A happy b-day to your daughter! I just celebrated mine a couple of days ago and my kid's is coming up in a week. My mom also celebrates her b-day in March. Here's to all of us Pisceans and Aireans (oops, luckily the spelling on that last one saves me from appearing to be a follower of Corporal Shickelgruber!).

I gotta admit I was shocked and saddened to hear of your daughter's plan to disfigure her body with a tattoo. Please don't take this the wrong way, I feel like I'm walking on eggshells here, my motive in saying this is not to try to butt into your family's business, nor is it a criticism of you or your family. Rather, I'm doing this in keeping with the frank and relatively BS-free exchange of dialog we've been sharing these some odd years now, in the spirit of keeping the conversation rolling (and providing possible grist for your blog). You have my sincerest apologies in advance if you find my words offensive----they are only my opinion and, as you well know, opinions are like assholes and vice versa.

To my mind's eye, I see tattoos as being really trashy (and making their bearers look trashy in turn)--regardless of how well they are done or what the subject matter may be. It may seem odd, given my views on God, but I do believe we enter this world in a natural and perfect state, and to mar our bodies with tattoos is to somehow blaspheme against nature. It is an irreverence toward our body—if you want to express yourself artistically, do it on canvas or paper, etc—don't deface your divine-born body (same goes for piercings and other permanent methods of body mutilation).

I scoff at the idea that the tattooed are expressing their "individuality", because I see the same motifs over and over again. It's like the laughable notion of a teen expressing their individuality through dress or hairstyle, when that "individual" look is replicated by 90% of the high school population.

Then there are the people wearing so called "aboriginal" tattoos, which I see as highly demeaning toward the cultures where those markings originated. In those traditional societies, they have deep and symbolic meaning, and are more than just markings on skin—they represent membership in that society, they are a right of passage and represent a place which is earned by being native born in that society. Seeing them on some punk pseudo-trendy Westerner is yet another example of our vacuous pop culture.

I also find it pathetic when a tattooed individual complains that "straight" society sees them as "freaks" or "weirdos"—well, didn't you get those tats to set yourself apart from "straight" society? You made a permanent, visual statement on your body which says you reject the common mores of our society, so have the integrity to accept the consequences of that rejection by said society. If you don't have the stomach for it, you were deluding yourself in the first place—you're not really a rebel, you're just a fatuous follower of fashion. A real rebel doesn't wear a bullseye on their body advertising their affiliation—stealth will serve your insurgent aims much better.

They may seem cool and "edgy" to a good portion of today's callow youth when viewed upon the young bodies of their peers, but when I see the faded colors, fuzzy detail and jaded motifs of tattoos on middle-aged or older folks, I see bad art and stupidity.

Again, my deepest apologies if I have offended—the above was offered in the spirit of frank and BS free dialog. I'm not trying to tell anybody how to live—if someone wants a tattoo they should get one—just don't expect me to like it.

Peace!

People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use.—Søren Kierkegaard

Under the subject line of "March-Hare Raisers", and signing off as "Hervé Villechaize", I answered him in brief:

Sent: Monday, March 19, 2007 7:38 PM

No offense taken, sir! …although the image of you tiptoeing over imagined eggshells is a chortle in itself!

I largely agree with your opinion and assertions, but at twenty-four it's less likely she'd heed any caution from me, and she's old enough to be stupid on her own… which she still does a heck of a lot less than I did at that age, or even last month. I do think it's stupid, and you've got me rethinking (but not yet retracting) my idea of buying a star or UFO. But the concept of doing so in a capitalistic, spectacular (albeit largely en famille et amis) fashion still tickles my funnybone. Would you mind terribly if I take this up in greater detail on tonight's (or tomorrow's) installment?

There's been a bit of a patch lately where I don't have as much thoughtful/deep blog-material to post (though why should I try to rise above everyone else?)… so it's been fun harvesting said material from emails and at-work pun-contests. And this matter is deserving of a longer and more detailed response, and a bit more of a public airing… or erring, in my case.

Ciao bello!

Let's have at it further now; Sparky's candor deserves both deep consideration and response at length. This is not an open letter to everybody, though; this is a longer response to Spartacī email with the rest of you guys looking over my shoulder:

As usual, bro, I'm going to plow through more or less sequentially.

Aargh! Missed your birthday! The Mrs. said you'd be getting your AARP card; did it ever show up? Or don't you recall? Anyway, many happy returns of the day (meaning that I hope you refunded all your gifts and kept the money), and belatedly! And having yet another birthday should have merited you at least one stinky-stogie, and a trot down the walk with the dawgs to enjoy it. Now wipe the icing off your chin.

Aah, forget that failed architect Schickelgruber; your spelling also spares me the desire to exorcise you as a fanatical follower of the heretic Arius. Never mind; it may well be all (heh-heh) Greek to you.

As I said earlier, I'm not in agreement with daughter Shelly's idea for a tattoo. Shoot; she never even had piercings, except in her ears, growing up – and those were courtesy of her mom, and they soon closed up anyway. During college, though, she mentioned she was thinking of getting her navel pierced. She knew I disfavored that, too… but once a child is out from under your roof (and thumb, as both parent and child may sometimes view it), you cannot give her/him orders – although you can place conditions on the mundane support you provide them.

No, you have to play it fairly clichéic, and give them your love and emotional support and encouragement, cheer them on as they blaze their own trail – and keep them aware of where their actions may disappoint you, and meet with your disapproval. If you've been at least a reasonably good parent, then your child, even once grown, will never stop gaining inner mileage from meeting your approval, and receiving your praise.

As a bit of a sidetrack, one of few things I was truly able to clutch to my heart when my father passed away suddenly in 2003 happened while I was standing near him some years earlier, talking on the phone with one of our relatives who lived in Germany, Dad's birth-country. And aching to visit that sweet country again, I said to her (my relative), "Ich wollte, ich nur da wäre," or, "I just wish I were there!"

And unexpectedly Dad just about leapt out of his chair; he sat bolt upright and exclaimed, "PERFECT first-person subjunctive indirect discourse! Very good!!" I felt, for just one startled moment, that I was his prize student (he'd never really taught language to his own children)… and am still so proud of that moment that I included it in my eulogy for him. Next time I see him, I hope to remember to tell him Thank you. (PS: he was a lousy parent… and I still miss him.)

I don't fully buy into the concept of "blaspheme against nature" – though I do feel we have to answer for what we do with these bodies we are loaned. Picture your dad turning over to you the family Vega, or Pinto, for the evening: "You don't have to fill the tank back up, Son, but I expect it to come back without a scratch. If it does come back scratched to dented, you'd better have a good reason. See you at eleven, Kiddo."

There's more than tattooing that mars our bodies. What about high cholesterol that could be shortening (!) our lives? The poor eating habits and lack of exercise? You and I, sir, have retained our svelte, teen-years bods… only they're hidden layers of leftovers; no one can now see the waifs we once were. Is this not also taking poor care of the body? Is this not an even greater "irreverence toward our body"?

I submit to Counsel that indeed we are expected – whether by nature, or by God – to make the best of our bodies, to make them last as long as we can and take utmost good care of them, since we're each issued only one. The longer we each stay alive, healthy, and focused, the longer we can work to make our world a better place, yes? So we must take care of our bodies. Now, which wrecks aforesaid body worse, and knocks off more years: tattooing, or a Big Mac?

Following point, esthetics: yah; generally looks stupid, and is expensive to remove (where even possible). That kind of sheer permanence bothers me, personally; it's not like a change of hair style or color. So by definition, this ought not to be done on a whim.

Hence your next point, those culturally-rich tattoos of "deep and symbolic meaning", being appropriated as The Latest Thing. Here again I largely agree; it grates on me to find something of great depth and continuity ripped from its context/milieu. A girlfriend of mine who, years back, was the district manager for a national jewelry company, told me then of her shock at hearing a youth trying to decide with a friend which cross pendant to buy, and finally deciding on the one "without the guy on it".

Still… can one not consciously, deliberatively, honor such a culture and society – Keltic, African, Austroaboriginal, Native American, etc. – by adopting a traditional, tattooed image, and embracing its significance? Yes? Then posit a stranger has done so, and deeply appreciates the struggles and sufferings of that culture, even though s/he was never born into it; in taking on as a tattoo the symbol of that culture's heritage and ancient wounds, s/he has added an entire new dimension to his/her soul, and is wonderfully enriched deep within thereby. Now: you pass on the sidewalk, see the motif of that world on his/her upper arm… how do you know it's been assumed superficially? …especially when, here, it hasn't been?

You're right that someone who has tattooed/pierced him/herself – whether out of superficiality, or out of deep empathy with the oppressed – has abrogated any privilege to complain about the superficial response from the lowbrows in his/her own social realm; the wise wo/man will expect this, and ignore it (truly having "the integrity to accept the consequences of that rejection by said society")… the shallow wo/man, well, tough – you're naïve and out of touch. ("a fatuous follower of fashion" – heh-heh; I like that one!)

A good, though I feel quite separate, point lies in your line that "stealth will serve your insurgent aims much better": quite agree, sir! I am an inner rebel; since I am paid to work for a prominent company that counts the US military among its clients, I don't really have a "Buck Fush" sticker on my car; nor do I let anyone see the half-peace-sign I flash at the radio's latest mention of the Commander-in-Chimp. That would be hypocritical. Strike that; there's definite hypocrisy for me in working for a firm that is more sword- than plowshare-focused. Fine; I'll be an embarrassed hypocrite with a roof over my head, rather than a proud ideologue starving under the overpass. But I can also blend into the unwashed masses with greater ease, and when needed can more "softly and suddenly vanish away"… which was my modus operandi during the Ray-gun years, and again earlier this decade.

So… as with many other things, I could easily rationalize myself into a tattoo – or rather, technically, the other way around. But I'm not interested in the least. By the way, that girlfriend who helped run the jewelry company also wanted me to be a "practice dummy" for ear-piercings, to show the nervous young-men customers (this was in the late eighties) that it didn't hurt. I refused, even though she offered to let me hold the teddy bear.

So at long (-winded) last, back to daughter Shelly: I think her getting a tattoo is dumb, and without discretion and thought (neither one of which she lacks) could be downright stupid. But she's been thinking about this for a while, and has been mulling tasteful (I hope you can conceive of that!) designs… I picture something like a Tolkienesque dragon blasting through the old Procter and Gamble logo, there on her ankle; and I might still be willing to lay down a couple sawbucks for a star, or crescent-Saturn.

Yes; tasteful.