“A Coffee With Steve”
Steve Son and I sit diagonally from one another on one of the wooden picnic tables outside of Speedboat Coffee on a chilly, but sunny Spring afternoon in Portland, Oregon. Steve has graciously accepted my invitation for coffee and conversation before their busy afternoon at Powell Tattoos; they have a hard stop at 12 pm to prepare for their next client.
I reached out to Steve for continued conversation after our tattoo appointment earlier in April during which time they gave me a skull-snake combination tattoo that now sits firmly in the skin on my left tricep. I wanted to talk to Steve further for a few reasons including their receptiveness to sharing ideas and perspectives as well as their support of my own goals and aspirations of this project.
But above all, it seemed to me like Steve had an important story to tell that goes beyond the wonderful tattoo they gave me.
Steve identifies as a queer, non-binary, person of color (POC) while contributing to a tattooing world that is majority composed of white male artists and collectors. Further conversation with Steve was an opportunity to connect with someone with a potentially different perspective on life than my own. It was also a chance to get closer to what I envision Of Ink, Blood, and Dermis eventually becoming as a project that explores all things tattooing including the incredible personalities that make and create the artform’s unique culture.
During our tattoo appointment last April, Steve and I’s conversation orbited around the artform of American Traditional tattooing, the actual pain of collecting tattoos, Steve’s own inspirations, and several other heartfelt and inane topics. There were dozens of belly laughs and jokes thrown around as Steve’s endearing energy matched the art that they were creating through tattooing.
Moments did occur when we discussed some personal topics including both of our family lineages, Steve’s sobriety and my own journeyman-esque lifestyle. However, topics such as gender, sexual orientation, race and marginalization (in the world of tattooing or otherwise) never came up.
Several days after the tattoo I was looking for a reference to Steve’s flash posters on Instagram so I could write about them in correct detail for the first story I was composing called A Traddy Daddy. During my search, I found an old AMA (“ask me anything”) where Steve answered questions about their personal history, sexual orientation, ethnicity, in addition to other tattoo centric prompts. Steve wrote eloquently and showed a measured mix of humility and pride about some deeply personal things.
I was moved to learn more about Steve and reached out to them directly over Instagram writing that I felt like this part of their history and background was an important piece of a whole story. I had no interest in reeling in Steve’s personal life like a trophy fish for me to display on a blog post — so in my best attempt to smother virtue signaling, I suggested first that I could just write the story as is and keep it centered on the actual tattoo experience.
Or, I offered to them, we could get together and have a proper conversation about these topics further giving the written anecdote the layering it deserved.
To my relief and excitement Steve was receptive to the idea.
“Yeah! we can definitely grab some coffee sometime!” They replied to my message on Instagram.
A week later, Steve and I sat sipping our coffees and taking a few moments of small talk before jumping headfirst into deep thought-provoking waters. While we talk, Steve observes me patiently in a relaxed crossed-armed pose while their mustachioed face falls into a slightly pursed lips formation, their eyes squint slightly in response to the bright April sun above.
I take some time to read a part of the first story I had written about the tattoo Steve gave me; they close their eyes and tilt their chin towards their sternum listening as I read to them. While fighting anxious energy, I also have to battle the roars of trucks and cars driving by behind us, as well as the nippy cold starting to pull at my skin. I deliver story excerpts on a steady cadence and notice a smile creep underneath Steve’s handlebar mustache.
While I read, Steve laughs at a couple moments in the story and offers a few “hm!” sounds. When I finish, they say cheerfully, “I’m flattered! I like it a lot!” Steve then continues with a wry smile, “A couple of editing notes though….”
“Oh yeah of course, please!” I reply.
“Pronouns are not ‘him’ or ‘he’. It’s going to be ‘They, them, their’.”
“Oh shit… I’m sorry.” I apologize genuinely with flushed red cheeks.
It was my first time having this interaction and correction in my life. Now in hindsight, I think of all the times when I may have just thrown out the normal binary pronouns without considering the other person’s preferences. Or perhaps, and more likely, I’m just a very straight white male who doesn’t have circles of friends or acquaintances that use this identification.
I was embarrassed, of course, but Steve was kind with their corrections and seemingly held no judgement against me.
“It’s fine!” They reply with a smile and a little chuckle at my discomfort.
I can feel my ears burning as I quickly take real-time notes on our conversation and regather my thoughts. After Steve takes another sip out of their coffee cup, I ask about the new palm tattoos on their hands that I had noticed when we first said hello several minutes earlier. The left palm showed a Kewpie Angel while the right had a Hot Stuff Devil — both designs are historically pertinent motifs in the American Traditional artform.
With a curious as I gesture to Steve’s palms and ask about the newest additions to their collection, “I noticed those earlier — they look very new.”
Steve flashes a toothy grin and spreads both hands with palms facing upwards to show me both tattoos. “Just got them a few days ago,” they respond.
“How painful was it?” I ask the obvious question before I could think otherwise.
“Pretty painful!” Steve laughs and I grimace while reflexively rubbing my hands together.
After admiring their own hands for a few seconds, Steve says, “the person’s identity reflects their tattoos. I like getting tattooed by those who I know and trust at this point in my life. I’ll now spend the time to make sure the artist is a good person — you know do the research.”
“Do you feel like you may have some tattoos from people you regret?” I ask Steve.
“There are a few on my body that came from some people who in the end, I did not like who they were.” Steve replies with a shrug. “But it happens. They’re there permanently.”
I type away on my laptop furiously trying to both digest what they are saying and take appropriate notes for my memory later. Regrettably, it never dawned on me in that moment to use my phone to record our conversation.
I take an opportunity to prompt Steve by reading a quote from their previously mentioned Instagram AMA. In the post Steve writes about how they understand that they represent a small demographic of queer, non-binary, people of color in the world of tattooing. Steve further reiterates that they’re humbled if any young people see them as a reflection of themselves and feel some type of validation.
Steve responds to my prompt and their own writing saying, “I don’t feel like tattooing has a strong written history. Ever since I’ve started, I have looked for people like me… especially in the traditional tattoo scene,” They pause for another quick sip of their latte before continuing. “It would have been nice to see that representation in my 20s. But, if I can now be a representation as a tattoo artist to other non-binary, people of color, and non-cis white males then that is important.”
Steve resumes, “Tattooing has changed a lot since I’ve started though. I have found even the grumpy white dudes have changed their viewpoints and mannerisms,” they finish saying with a shrug and a chortle.
“They’ve been engrained to hold back information for so long — gatekeeping has been thrown around for quite some time. Old school tattooers want to keep the craft special… which makes sense — but it does make it difficult to feel welcome and to learn.”
The conversation continues in a casual tone, and I take a moment to reiterate with Steve how much I appreciate this time with them. I understand that in this project’s early stages, I will be writing about myself more than anything else as I try and show my investment in the artform by collecting tattoos and sharing the things I learn. Any time like this conversation with them reaffirms my brain’s motivation to do this project, but also gives me knowledge and insight into other human beings and social structures I had never experienced before.
Steve’s brown eyes smile, and they allow a small laugh, “You’re still a tourist in tattooing. You need to continue to collect and meet people.”
There’s a beat in the conversation as Steve pauses to think and watch a few noisy trucks pass by behind me on the street. Steve then offers, “But, from my perspective, what you’re doing as a white man by surrendering yourself to the marginalized population is an interesting and valuable thing. I personally walk through everyday having to make changes and adjustments to everyone else.”
I smile at Steve’s words and nod my appreciation. I look at my watch and see that unfortunately, our time has quickly run short, and Steve needed to leave for their next tattoo client. They offered their availability to answer any more questions I may have later on, and I told them I would keep them updated with how the writing was going.
Sure enough, just a few days later I realized that I had barely scratched the surface of Steve’s background after reviewing my notes and trying to now write a 2nd story. Worse still, I realized that I had spent a majority of the time talking first and sharing my writing rather with them rather than doing enough listening. I had lost some focus on what the goal of our time together was and what I was trying to learn from Steve.
I reached out again to Steve and asked if they would be willing to get another cup of coffee and to continue our conversation. Thankfully, Steve agreed and a few days after my return from Mexico in late May, we sat at the same wooden picnic table outside of Speedboat Coffee. This time around, Steve wore buzz-cut hair after donating their long locks to charity, but still had the same toothy grin I now found familiar. I also now had two new tattoos after my trip to Mexico and recent birthday when I saw Christina Platis at Highway Tattoo in Portland, Oregon.
After another round of small talk and quick laughs, Steve and I picked up our conversation from the last meeting; this time I plopped down my phone between us to record our back and forth.
The ever-present dull roar of the busy street behind us echoes in the background of my phone recording as Steve begins to talk about their upbringing: “My parents divorced when I was very young — so I was raised by my mom, grandmother, and my sister who was 12 years older than me… It was mostly women in my family who took care of me and showed me how to navigate life.”
Steve continues to tell me that even from a young age, they found themselves attracted to a lot of feminine qualities probably because they were around the female persona so much. The relationship Steve had with their sister was especially important for entertaining moments like dressing up in girly fashion, but additionally because one of her closest friends at that time was a gay man that Steve would also form a close friendship with.
Sadly though, their friend would kill himself at a young age.
Steve acknowledges that they didn’t really understand the significance of this at the time, but it was their first experience with death. Steve remembers their friend fondly and says that he affected their life in a huge way because of the positive quality time spent with them during a formative time in their young life.
The other important aspect that came from a friendship with their sister’s friend was the “idea of what gayness was.”
This knowledge had been introduced very early on in Steve’s life when at that time they still identified as a boy. Steve now had a word and idea that they could associate or use to define the feelings they would have towards other boys that they cared about.
In college, Steve forayed their interest in sociology and feminism into a degree in Women, Gender, and Sexualities. From this point they began to learn more about genders including non-binary and non-conforming. Steve recalls a profound moment in their studies when they began to identify with what they were learning about.
“I feel like that…” Steve remembers saying to themselves after reading more about non-binary genders and what the terminology meant.
Many of the partners Steve had at that time in college were queer, with several being women who identified as lesbians. Steve remembers one their partners joking around with them that she envisioned Steve as more of a butch lesbian than a man.
“I remember laughing about what she said,” Steve says with a patented chortle. “But then saying to myself internally… ‘I feel like you’re not wrong.’”
We both take a quick pause to sip our coffee drinks and I share some of my own thoughts with Steve, “I grew up as a Unitarian Universalist in what I thought was a diverse college town. I have been learning about gender and human sexuality from conversations like this, meeting different types of people, reading on my own… and I’m sitting here thinking — did I miss the boat? Did I miss something? Because I am pretty confident in how hard-wired I am as a straight male.”
Steve responses thoughtfully, “I think a lot of it is just perspective and how you look at it. Personally, from a very young age I didn’t feel the need for that label of ‘straightness’ or ‘gayness.’”
Steve continues, “Of course if you bind yourself down to: I feel straight, so I am straight, then you kind of close off that perspective in your own brain. Because honestly there may be women who you find attractive… but then what if they tell you, ‘Oh I don’t identify as a woman or, I am non-binary.”
“Doesn’t that kind of throw a wrench in what ‘straightness’ is?”
“That human is really attractive.” I say to Steve nodding my head in understanding.
“Right,” Steve laughs in affirming tone of voice. “Because you have a label for it. But those labels are arbitrary — because at a certain point, gender can be arbitrary.”
“I think part of it is a survival instinct…” I begin in response to Steve. “For centuries humans survived by having tons of babies — the binary form of male and female supported that. We allow more leniency in brain expansion in terms of science and art, but human sexuality has often been compressed into a corner. We’re not letting the whole brain go to have other thoughts and find other identities.”
Steve nods before saying, “You probably feel the same way I do now. My whole life currently is dedicated to unlearning what I have been told to know and relearning the fundamental truths.
But the more you explore that — you realize there are no fundamental truths. Everything is much more complicated than an easy answer.”
Steve pauses and looks at the sky overhead and takes a deep happy breath while again collecting their thoughts. Even though my phone is recording the conversation, I peck away on my laptop taking notes and any other observations I’m having in the moment here at Speedboat Coffee. Steve watches another customer walk from behind us into the shop before turning to me and continuing their thought process.
They go on to tell me that a lot of the time in college they didn’t necessarily feel like a man — and in many ways, that hasn’t changed since that time. They enjoy the aesthetics of what a man should look like, but only in terms of things like the clothes and the hair that they wear.
“I like the things that I like,” Steve says with a smile and a shrug. “I’ll do my nails… but I’ll cut my hair short or not wear makeup. And a lot of the time, I feel more in tune with what a lot of society deems as ‘feminine’ — which are my feelings, and how I perceive the world working.”
With a note of disappointment Steve then says, “And that’s not always easy to show people because that is the ‘feminine’ part of me. But again… that’s all societal constructions. Labeling the feelings I might have, as well as how I express myself physically, are equally arbitrary.”
“They don’t need a label!” I reply to Steve emphatically. “It’s something you prefer as a human.”
“Every little choice doesn’t have to fit the binary” Steve smiles at my comment. “That’s why being non-binary resonates with me — because it all is just constructed. Why can’t I just be who I am? It doesn’t necessarily have to be that I am a man or a woman.”
I take an excited breath before responding, “It feels like the non-binary viewpoint of the world is a much more accommodating one for society as whole — gives you more space to be who you want to be. I’m thinking now in terms of art and creation… if you have a firm foundation of your identity, you can do the things you want to do. But if your home and your foundation doesn’t feel good — you’ll be forced to go a certain way and things will be painful. You’re not going to be…”
“…who you truly are.” Steve finishes the thought for me.
“Right!” I happily gesture with open palms.
Steve sighs and rubs their chin before telling me how they often grew up thinking, “I can’t do that”. From an early age, there were foreboding and arbitrary boundaries that were created in their head that made them feel embarrassed about exploring different ideas and thought processes. “I shoudn’t be drawn to something like that…” Steve consistently self-admonished from a young age.
Fast forward to the current time and Steve now says cheerfully, “To be completely liberated from that that feeling… is freeing! I can’t even imagine being put back into those boxes.”
“Does they still hit you? The barriers and boundaries with gender?” I ask Steve.
“Um… no.” Steve says frankly in a matter-of-fact voice while tapping the picnic table with their finger.
“Sometimes I feel that way about certain things not related to my gender. ‘Oh, I’m supposed to do this…or I’m supposed to do that’ and then I get scared to leave that box.”
Steve describes how they will find themselves challenged throughout life in many ways they weren’t expecting. They then need to take the time to unpack these multi-layered feelings of “why do I feel this way?“ And, “Is it okay to feel this way?” Steve sees it as a challenge of self when they have to determine if it’s even necessary to combat the feelings and break out of the box that they find themselves in.
A mental struggle then occurs as they try to find the right answer on their own. “What is it that I’m supposed to be feeling,” versus, “what am I telling myself I should be feeling?”. Steve practices a well-developed form of deep introspection that only comes from a sharp, flexible, humble, and experienced mind like their own.
Steve fixes me with a perceptive expression and asks,” I imagine you feel the same way about a lot of situations or things in life?”
“Those are questions I ask myself every day!” I respond with a belly laugh. “I had to ask myself those same questions after our first time together and I started writing this story. ‘This is a lot about me… who is this for?’You, know? So, I felt the need to keep talking to you.”
I scratch absently at the ridges of rough wood on the brown picnic table, “There is still so much to learn, and I have a human who is willing to be open and vulnerable — which is something I personally try to be as much as possible. But no one needs another open and vulnerable white guy — that story is well written,” I say with a laugh.
“It’s the other people that are different than me that deserve the story — having someone like you who is willing to sit, and talk is more valuable than gold in this life. At least it is for me personally.”
Steve tilts their head in agreement with a friendly half-smile, “I mean… you know if you get the platform, you should use it to help others.”
“That’s how I envision this, Steve.” I reply with a relieved sort of sigh. “There are people who will read this story that would have never read these things to begin with. But because it is coming from me…” I gesture with a hand to my chest, “there is a subconscious comfort in reading a story from another white guy.”
Steve nods their head and is about to start another talking point before their phone buzzes on the table and they reach to answer it putting the brakes on our conversation. I pause from my note taking and gaze at the clear sky above and Steve begins to laugh as they talk on the phone, “no, no, everything is fine. Just getting a coffee — I’ll be there soon! Okay? Haha, okay bye!”
I incline my head towards Steve and narrow my eyes in a question. They laugh and say, “My coworkers were calling to make sure I was okay — not getting kidnapped or something.”
I chuckle and shake my head with a smile before gesturing with my hand to Steve so they will continue what they were saying.
Steve rejoins their previous thoughts, “I would say being in Portland… it is a very queer city… and I feel comfortable being here. I think people get to be comfortable with who they are here.”
“A majority of my friends are queer — a majority of the people I know are queer. Honestly, to me, when someone tells me their straight it’s actually a little jarring! Like… ‘excuse me?!’” Steve says with a large guffaw.
I take a moment to check the clock and make sure I have enough time to ask a few more questions and cover another topic. I prompt Steve again about their thoughts on being a POC in a world of tattooing that is predominately white males, in addition to the previously discussed existence of some gatekeeping that still permeates the world of tattooers.
I ask Steve directly, “Do you ever get any kind of negative feeling from others about someone who doesn’t look like them coming into the art form? Do you feel welcome and accommodated in tattooing?”
Steve responds quickly and eloquently, “I feel like I might be a special case. For the most part, and maybe it’s just my perspective on life and the way I navigate through it — but I feel generally welcomed and don’t get a lot of hate.”
They continue, “But I will say that a lot of people don’t see me as a non-binary queer person. That part is often invisible.”
“But uh… it’s pretty obvious I’m not white!” Steve adds at the end with a sing-song voice and another large chortle. “I was joking around with my friend the other day when we were talking about this very subject and I said, ‘I dunno. White people just love me! I’m palatable for a white person!’”
We both let out belly laughs into the crisp early spring air as cars continue to pass by noisily behind us.
Our conversation switches gears again as we circle back to the idea of intentionality in conversations such as the ones we are having. I tell Steve, “I’m wondering if I will get some flak for digging this stuff up saying ‘hey we should talk about this’ when I’m a white guy saying it. But I think white people should be saying we need to talk about things like these — have these conversations.”
I continue, “You (Steve) can get into the tattoo community as a non-binary POC and not get challenged, but it doesn’t mean the conversation stops there. I have learned from friends in my life, people of color I admire and look up to, as well as societal events like the George Floyd riots — that there is an overwhelming feeling of fatigue. People of color are tired of being their own champion or representation.”
“Meanwhile, I’m sitting here like… I can do something.”
Steve responds, “Especially if you think about the audience you’re going to attract being primarily white people. Because people of color say it all the time: White people should be teaching white people. Not people of color doing it.”
I nod in agreement, “This is part of me wanting to have these conversations. Because this is inherently the audience I’m going to have, and I can’t control that.”
Steve says, “Right. Your identity attracts a certain audience — just like mine attracts a certain audience as well. I would say maybe 90% of my clients are POC, queer, or trans and they don’t always feel like their tattooers reflect that when they get tattooed. So, it’s understandable why they would want to get tattooed by me — because they know they don’t have to be worried about that when they show up to get the work done.”
“Which is awesome! I love being that person for them.” Steve says finally with a warm grin.
I beam at Steve, “Well, as a white guy I picked you because you drew really cool stuff, and I wanted one of your tattoos. From a social media standpoint, I could also tell how endearing and funny you were with the tik toks and Instagram reels, as well as all the societal things you talk about. I found that all really valuable and said ’I want to get tattooed from this person.’”
“I don’t know if you want to keep tattooing white people or not…” I say with a shrug and a laugh.
Steve chimes in quickly, “Haha! I’ll take all the white people money!”
With this comment, another shared belly laugh rips through the May afternoon sky from the picnic tables of Speed Boat Coffee.
Time runs short again and Steve is soon packing up for their afternoon of tattooing at Powell Tattoos. Before mounting their green bicycle to leave, I ask Steve for a hug, and I thank them again for the time out their day. Steve rides off and I walk to my truck around the corner while listening to the voice memos on my phone from our conversation.
There’s an excited warmth in my chest that I am not sure if I have really felt before. But it gives me firm nudge forward to keep walking this direction of learning and storytelling.
I’m thankful Steve was patient with a straight white male such as myself; I now have a chance to learn, write, and share a story that goes beyond the tattoo experience itself. Stories like Steve’s and conversations like the ones we shared, hold the appropriate weight for the namesake of this project as it will explore the deep layers that are a part of the world of tattooing and allocate them to the world at large.
