the type to get a tattoo

My tattoo mentor always spoke highly of his mentor, Dana Brunson. Dana despised when clients would justify getting tattooed by qualifying, “well, I’m not the type to get a tattoo, but...”. I can’t remember Dana’s exact response, but it was something like, “if you’re the type to walk into a tattoo shop, then you’re the type to get a tattoo.”

I have been tattooing for the past twelve years, which I think grants me some degree of expertise on the subject. While I was taught to tattoo in a very traditional sense of the vocation, I always aspire to combine my respect for the craft and the “old school” with an eye toward the practical and how to continue to be relevant in a social media-driven environment. And what do I think about “the type?” There is no type, no matter what anyone may say.

I tell my apprentice and my clients that I have tattooed everyone from every possible walk of life, “from strippers to surgeons.” To be honest with you, my stripper clients were much more polite (and much better tippers) than some of the surgeons I’ve tattooed, including one that I nicknamed “Dr. Grandpa.” He came into a shop where I was working to get a memorial tattoo for his son-in-law (whom he claimed he hated, and who had been murdered by his daughter’s...umm...boyfriend), saying he “wasn’t the type,” and demanded to know how often we actually came to work sober. I was the only one in the shop willing to deal with his obnoxious and callous personality, and I quickly schooled him by telling him about my Ph.D.

One thing that drives me ballistic is the common view of the tattoo industry, and how much of the tattoo industry itself feeds into stereotypes. Bad ass, bloody, tough, edgy. Instagram posts from tattooers are rife with typographical errors and profanity. TV stars from tattoo reality shows pop up on tattoo magazine covers topless, clutching their hot tattoo artist boyfriends who have ripped abs. Get a tattoo and you’ll be super sexy. Super forbidden but super duper “hawt.”

The day to day reality in my shop? Middle-aged, stay at home moms. Young 18 year olds who are terrified out of their minds. 77 year old grandmothers who have always wanted a tattoo and finally worked up the nerve. Professionals - college and graduate school educated nurses, psychologists, engineers, chemists. Women leaving abusive marriages who get the ritual “divorce tattoo” in order to take control of their own bodies for the first time. The parent who’s lost a child.

The list goes on and on.

The most profound thing being a tattooer does for me: it humanizes everyone. We all have so much more in common than we do different. We all crave connection, but simultaneously we require our own physical autonomy and agency. I feel as though I occupy a privileged position - to help others express themselves in the most sacred ritual of claiming their bodies as their own. And sometimes, this is for the very first time, such as with that 77 year old grandmother.

I wish everyone could see humanity in this way.

I, myself, have to deal with stereotypes on a daily basis. I am a heavily tattooed woman, and I can tell you more easily about the few places I have left on my body than what tattoos I currently have. I get cat-called on a daily basis: “Hey girl, sick ink!” I get the dirty looks, the snide comments: “That’s so disgusting. Why would anyone do that to themselves?”

What most people don’t know about me:

I have a doctorate, and formerly worked as a college professor. I’ve even taught at little Ivy League colleges, such as Smith. (As an aside, I’ve tattooed a huge contingency of Ivy League librarians and archivists, including ladies from Harvard and Yale.)

I’m an ex-church organist and opera singer.

I owned my first home by the time I was 26. In San Diego.

I’ve got a super high credit score.

I don’t drink (I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in about 19 years). I don’t smoke. I’m not into cannabis. At all. I’m firmly committed to clean living and a straight-edge lifestyle.

I’m in bed most nights by 9 pm at the latest, and the pinnacle of my Friday night excitement is cuddling with my kitty and my doggo and my committed, monogamous partner.

I have my pilot’s license (a proud member of the 6% of female pilots!), a tailwheel endorsement, and I’m currently studying to become a flight instructor. And I pay for my flight training on my own, with my income from tattooing.

Get the picture?

I suppose if you’re reading this blog, it’s because you already know me and my shop. But if you’re reading this because one of my clients forwarded it to you, or because someone reposted the link on social media, I want you to know: there is no type. Stop judging those who have had the strength to live life on their own terms. The second you boil someone down to a “type” because they dare to wear a tattoo sleeve - especially if that’s a woman - you’re wearing your own bigotry on your chest. And to me, that’s a heck of a lot more offensive than walking around as a proudly tattooed person.