To Tat or Not to Tat

Sharing Saturday  

Now that it's summer, it's time to notice, yet again, how tattooed the world has become. Everywhere I turn, I see body art. I must see several tattoos a day.

And, much to my disappointment, not one of them is mine.

Over the course of my adulthood, tattoos have gone from something quite subversive, something that signified rebellion, to something that designated you as the ultimate hipster (with no irony intended), to something that you see with great regularity at the suburban community pool.

My first encounter with a tattoo was in 1994, on a trip to Israel. I was traveling with a hearty band of powerful women, all of whom were organizational leaders. One of our tour members had recently returned to her husband after a separation, and to mark the new phase in her life she got a heart tattoo stamped on the curve right above her breast.

I was 30 years old and newly married. I was shocked by the fact that she had left her husband and returned to him, by her loud and intimate banter about something that seemed so private, and by what seemed like a seditious act, especially by someone who was respected in the community. She and all the other women on the tour, on the other hand, thought her tat was wonderful. She kept pulling her t-shirt down and showing it off as we traveled through Israel. 

What I didn’t know then is that Judaism actually prohibits you from marking or maiming your body in any way. But since this includes ear piercing, and it's rare to find a Jewish woman of any denomination without pierced ears, this prohibition does not resonate much with me.

However, it does make the numbers branded into Holocaust survivors' arms that much more atrocious.  Not only did the Nazis murder six million Jews, they desecrated the bodies of those who survived in a way that could never be undone.

So there is a Jewish school of thought that one should not get a tattoo as a sign of respect for the six million. However, anyone walking around present-day Tel Aviv will tell you that that mantra has evaporated. Tel Aviv is Tattoo City, and Tel Avivans have taken to tattoos with a secular vengeance that seems determined to laugh in the face of Jewish heritage or Talmudic prescription. It's as if body art paints a coat of armor to protect you both from your past and from the current day reality of being a citizen of a nation where, with any step, you could be vaporized from a bomb blast in the local coffee shop.

But the tattoo prohibitions resonate with my husband, and he is fiercely opposed to them. He sees it as a a mark of slavery. I see it as a mark of strength. I have mused out loud a few times that I have been thinking about getting one, but since it is so upsetting to him, I haven't pursued it. Yet.   

I would want something subtle, maybe on my ankle or on the dip just under my hips. There is something about having it in a semi-covert place on your body that appeals to me. I have a friend who has a tat sluicing down her shoulder blade, which you can only see if she is in a bathing suit or tank top, and boy is it provocative. And beautiful.

Two years ago when my whole family was in Israel, we went to an arts fair. There was a woman making henna tattoos, which last about two weeks. Everyone in my family, except my husband, got one. I got an intricate, woven, double helix-like black decoration snaking up my ankle. For the next two weeks, every time I wore blousy summer pants and I caught a glimpse of my tattoo peeking out, I would get a little thrill. It was kind of like when you are 13 years old and you are absolutely convinced that everyone is looking at you because you have a pimple on your chin. In this case, I just knew that everyone was looking at the sexy henna tattoo crawling up my ankle, and thinking how subversive, rebellious and cute I was.

And then it peeled off. I returned to my mundane, suburban life, tattooless. 

But I am still coveting one. I yearn for the glamour. I am intrigued by the secrecy. I want someone to do a double take at my ankle at the next school meeting and think, "now there's a cool mom."  I no longer worry about what a potential employer is going to say or think (I own my own business) and I'm not worried about being denied admission into a Jewish cemetery (I'll be gone anyway.) And I'm not too worried about winding up looking like an old Marine with ancient tattoos covering most of my forearm (one of my husband's arguments.) First, my tattoo will be small and dainty and hidden. It will be created in mid-life, so the fading factor is cut in half. And it will be a reminder of the power I hold over this body, aging though it may be.

This body is mine. I try to think of it as beautiful. In my middle age, I want to honor it. I appreciate what it has done for me, most importantly, borne my children. I try to keep it relatively healthy and fit. And I am coming closer to the day, perhaps, when I will mark it indelibly with what I see to be a symbol of strength, energy, muscle and simply presence in the world.

 

Photo by Neeta Lind via Flickr

 

 

 

 

Comments

[Carol Clayton]

I got a tattoo in 1987, as an attempt to quit smoking. I figured that I smoked because I thought it made me look wild and dangerous, and wondered what I could do that would have the same effect for me minus the negative health issues-answer? Tattoo. Then they were not at all widespread, and still mostly said "wild/dangerous" or "trailer trash" depending on whom you asked, so I got mine in a place where, I told people, even if I was invited to swim at the White House (not likely in 1987, given my violent anti-Republican sentiments and apparent lack of White House pool parties) I would not embarrass my mother. I have never been sorry I got it, although I started smoking again just months afterwards. But I cannot over-emphasize the ravages of time on ink, and the skin in which that ink lives. So if you do it, make sure that it is in a place where, 20 years from now, you won't feel compelled to drop thousands on laser removal. (My idea of a sound investment in a growth industry, btw)

[Avis H]

I got my tatoo in 1994 following my divorce. It was a powerful experience on a number of levels. A friend had done research on local tatoo salons and selected the salon we went to. Since these salons were not as prevalent then as they are now, I spent 2-3 hours with 4 bikers. These hard-core bikers (minus a number of teeth and in leather chaps over their jeans) were some of the nicest guys I have ever met. The guy who owned the salon was amazingly gentle & concerned that I not reveal too much as I prepared for him put the tatoo on my chest. His buddy, who helped me select the perfect flower (not a rose)for my tatoo, physically held my hand through the entire process. I had intended to have the tatoo on my shoulder blade but he discouraged this because he thought it would be too painful for my first tatoo. The experience was powerful because my tatoo will always remind me of the strength that brought me through my divorce, one of the most difficult points in my life, and because my interraction with those "bikers-dudes" confirmed for me that people are people despite what they look like. It has been 16 years since I got my tatoo. I have no regrets about getting "inked", as tatoos are called in some circles. My "ink" always makes me smile as I am dressing or undressing. It also always makes me smile at toothless bikers!

[Katherine]

Karen, forgive me if I've already forwarded this article to you. It's a piece from the NY Times challenging the conventional wisdom (with support from eight well-respected rabbinical scholars) that Jewish law prohibits tattoos. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/17/fashion/17SKIN.html

If you do go forward with a tattoo, I hope you'll share the decision with us!

[Amanda Morin]

My brother has an intricate bracelet tattoo on his forearm that makes my Holocaust-era grandparents wince every time they see it. I've always wanted a subtle tattoo also, maybe a chain of ivy around my ankle or something else just as delicate. With each milestone birthday or milestone occasion--my divorce, my remarriage-- I've entertained the idea, but have not done it because of the Jewish belief as well and because I don't want my grandparents to be reminded of the painful past. (Or possibly because I'm a total wimp and think it might hurt a lot.) I never really considered that in having pierced ears I'd already gone against religious prohibition.

I look forward to knowing whether you decide to get a tattoo!