At the end of July, I started an indefinite project that I have been planning since I was 17. This project has had many iterations and transformations over the years (as my drawing ability has improved) but has never wavered in level of commitment. That much has remained consistent.
I got my first tattoo.
To give you an idea of what it took to get this done, it was about three and a half hours, all on my rib cage. I was given the assurance, in vain, that there would be an anesthetic. But while lying on his table, my tattooer goes, “I can’t numb you until I finish all the line work. And, unfortunately for you, your drawing is almost entirely line work.” So a good two hours of this appointment was just straight needle to skin and bone. And the anesthetic actually was the most painful part, before it set in.
For anyone who has experience with tattoos, the rib cage is known to be one of the most painful. My tattooer and his friend who was sitting with us were shocked that this was where I wanted my first tattoo. “Most girls come in here, get an infinity symbol on their wrist and are freaking out the entire time,” his friend joked.
Well, one inspiration for this is the rather masochistic idea in some extreme Christian practices, which is ritual self-punishment. You know what I’m talking about; Nightcrawler?
It’s a lot easier to accept the hurt, if it’s for something, a note, maybe, for the girls and their infinity wrist tattoos.
Not that I condone of self injury or cutting. I am not trying to imply that I believe in physical punishment and Nightcrawler is a good example of this self-loathing approach, not something to strive for. But what Nightcrawler did teach me was about remembrance, permanence and how we view ourselves and the body. There is a scene in the second X-Men movie, where Nightcrawler meets Mystique.
“They say you can imitate anybody, even their voice.”
“Even their voice,” Mystique repeats.
“Then why not stay in disguise all the time? You know, look like everyone else?”
“Because we shouldn’t have to,”she says.
And it was this profound revelation that I had, after this scene. I loved everything tangible about Nightcrawler, and he loathed himself, everything about him. Then here was someone who looked like him, had powers like him, and was brazen and proud about it. The contrast of these two was great. Self acceptance is a huge theme of this series, and it started me on that path in my own journey. Please excuse my X-Men geek-out.
In that self acceptance was the understanding that my body is a temple. People of my infant faith quote Corinthians, of the new testament, saying “your body is a temple” hoping that I will take from that; “ Do not cut your bodies for the dead, and do not mark your skin with tattoos.” As in Leviticus laws, of the Jewish Tanakh.
I agree, my body is a temple, and it should be respected, not desecrated, as I would not wish to desecrate anyone else’s temple. But temples are built, adorned and function in different ways. With that in mind, I hope mine to preach love, cultural connection and resilience with the beauty of art.
(Not that I needed a place to defend myself, but I feel I now can refer people here if the need arises).
Some places of worship, of all religions even, have different ways to show their devotion. Some adorn temples with the finest gold, hire the best artisans sculpt the building, paint the walls. Some remove all symbols all together. Some don’t want illustrations of figures faces, others want illustrations of many faces. Some think even temples are too much idoletry.
I just decided that I wanted to be like Nightcrawler, with my temple. Not self-loathing, and maybe not blue but an undeniable, glaring beacon of what I believe. I wanted to take this devotion Nightcrawler had, the same I had for God/Oneness, and make it permanent. And if pain was going to be involved, better for the remembering, I figured.
So when the tattooer and his friend were surprised by my calm given their, very understandable expectation of a noob lying on he side with three hours of needlework on her ribs, I, while wincing mind you, replied “Well, to be fair, an infinity symbol on the wrist probably didn't involve the same consideration and commitment. I’ve been wanting this for six years, the pain isn’t really going to turn me away.”
Six years. People talk about wanting a tattoo but never finding anything they are committed enough to getting preserved on their body. I think six years is enough time to have deliberated. But I have saved most of the notes and iterations of my designs since at least 2009, to keep perfecting them.
To be clear, when I say I started this six years ago, I mean when I was 17. As in, when I was still a devout, racist, bigoted Christian.
For those of you who are Christian, you might know that there is a polar divide between those who believe tattoos are sin, and those who tattoo the 10 commandments on their back.
We could go on and on about arguments, scripturally even, for and against the practice, but I’m not going to even go there because why.
By the time I was about 18 years old, despite the bigoted Christian that I was, I was convinced that tattoos were nothing but another form of worship.
And with that understanding, I planned for six different pieces of art, six tattoos. One for each piece of spiritual armor as described in the book of Ephesians, chapter 6.
The chapter is an excerpt from a letter Apostle Paul wrote around 60AD. Most of Paul’s letters were sent to churches as they were in the beginning stages of their religion and explaining how to be a Christian, essentially. (Most of what the New Testament includes, really). What I loved so much about this chapter was the imagery he used to describe the ideal qualities of someone following the faith. Quoted, and I’m using NIV as I find it to be the most colloquial, it reads:
“13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”
So my goal was to get one tattoo for each piece of spiritual armor, with placement related, obviously. I had incorporated relating imagery from religious art I was exposed to in high school in a world religions class, and also incorporating ancient Egyptian art, because I’m obsessed with it and had come up with six.
As I started college and as I perfected my art, newer images, the more intricate, more embedded with meaning they became. And the more I was exposed to the world, through studying religion, studying journalism, going to a racial reconciliation conference, choosing to go to a church of my own volition, choosing to leave that church of my own volition, I found myself, in my last quarter of college going “I’m not actually a Christian…”
Which isn't actually as debilitating as you might think. See, I had already migrated over to syncretism, perennialism or what have you (the belief that all paths lead to the same end) since maybe 2011. I had believed that Christianity, as the religion I was raised with, was the best way I understood the world maybe, but that all religions, when practiced with respect for people and cultures, served the same purpose.
But it wasn't until studying theologians on the topic of the historical Jesus versus Biblical Jesus that I finally went “I can’t stand behind this. This is not what I believe.” Christianity no longer served as a way for me to understand the world. Maybe in combination with other philosophies but certainly not by itself.
On Jennifer and my road trips in 2013 and 2014, we delved a lot deeper into Buddhism, Taoism, and other religious philosophies. And so the imagery in those teachings started finding themselves into my symbols. The most notable being, that I added a 7th tattoo. My tattoos would be spiritual armor, but they would also serve as symbols or sigils to each of my chakra centers.
I had a goal that I was going to get my first tattoo by the time I graduated. It came a little late, but it did finally happen. I had already committed to an image, one that I think was as good as it was going to get and was eerily timely given traumatic events that happened in this final year of college. So finally, what you’ve probably been waiting for, here is the explanation for my tattoo.
The Omega Pomegranate Peacock
A. The Omega is the symbol of the start of my tattoos, but the end of my commitment solely to Christianity. The end of blissful ignorance, the beginning of awareness, mindfulness. Not that I don’t pay my respects to Christianity in the forming of the first 21 years of my life, or the personal and very real relationship I established with God/Oneness when I was 15, but that it will not hinder my spiritual growth, and I will not limit myself in that way.
B. The Pomegranate is a foreshadowing symbol in Christian art of Jesus’ blood sacrifice, typically shown being eaten by baby Jesus. With the seeds and juice symbolizing blood, and the shape, the pomegranate also symbolizes the heart. Given where I placed this tattoo, on the right upper rib cage near my breast, this symbolizes also my anahata, or heart, chakra. This chakra, when strengthened, enables you to forgive those who have harmed you, among other things. I find this very poignant for this year given my rape from about a year ago, and the reemergence of my abusive family after years of silence. The crown a top a pomegranate also symbolizes “king” or more cohesively, oneness.
C. The Peacock Feathers are in the shape of an eight petal lotus, a symbol of the eight-fold path of Theravada Buddhism. The lotus is a symbol of purity or resiliance, which I also find poignant given my recent traumas. The lotus also symbolizes the padma attribute, which teaches about growing in faith: that the beautiful lotus can only bloom from the fertile muck of the swamp.
D. The Nazars found in the feathers are symbols warding off the evil eye, known in a myriad of different cultures. The Nazars are considered charms against maliciousness.
E. The Peacock itself is a Christian symbol of immortality. But there is also a passage in Revelations that describes four creatures covered in eyes (like the Nazers, maybe), and the fourth is some bird like creature. So given the peacocks symbol, I saw the peacock as this creature of omniscience and integrity. To always be alert and hold myself accountable for what evil I bring into me, and what evil I let out.
F. The verse, Luke 12:34 is the same as Matthew 6:21 (I just really didn’t want the name Matthew tattooed to my body) which reads:
“For where your treasure lies, there your heart will be also.”
I hope it’s obvious how it relates to my anahata chakra, but also as a reiteration of holding myself responsible, accountable. Live and embody your philosophy, don’t say it. If you are that committed to it, stamp it on your body. Brand yourself as the person you want to be. And that’s what I am doing.
To bring it all the way back, this first tattoo of mine, aside from being a symbol of my anahata chakra, is my breastplate of righteousness, again, for accountability and integrity.
The experience was great. My tattooer was uncomfortable with me not being Christian, or with the acceptance of my body, (he was oddly uncomfortable with my breasts), but did an epic job. This was a group of hardcore later-Christians, (those who came to Chrisitianity after being proselytized in college typically), and were very devout. Which I thought was perfect for what I was doing. Despite how uncomfortable it was for them. It makes me want to have each tattoo done by an artist of a differnt faith. See, originally I planned on having Bible verses for each tattoo, but I have amended that, given my education, to have a piece of scripture for seven different religions. I started with Christianity and at the moment I am planning on doing Judaism next. Jennifer, who is Jewish, suggested the quote for the next tattoo I want to do. I still want to perfect the image, but it will be from Psalms 96:1 For my vishuddha, my throat, chakra. My ultimate weapon, my sword of the spirit.
“Sing unto the Lord, a new song…”
So for anyone with the question “Why not hand out pamphlets of your faith? Why not just say it? Why not preserve your body in its ‘natural’ state?”
“Because we shouldn’t have to.”
Truly, Vivi
2015 Tattoo: Read here.
