Tattoos and Women

I hear it all the time; “why does such a pretty girl have to go and deface herself with ugly tattoos”. Not that it is of any concern to the public why I choose to get art permanently placed in my epidermis, it is mine after all. Truthfully, there is still a negative stigma regarding tattoos, especially when it concerns women getting them. I grew up around this negative stigma, which may be the reason I was completely captivated by the artistic medium of tattoos. I got “inked” the first time at nineteen as an expression of my unique individuality and ever since have faced constant criticism for that choice. The negativity surrounding women with tattoos is in need of a thorough examination because tattoos are a form of art, not body graffiti.

The stigma surrounding women with tattoos is completely amazing due to the fact that women have been getting tattoos for thousands of years. According to historical findings, the practice of decorating the human body comes from before history was ever recorded in written form. Archaeologists have found painted representations of women with tattoos dated back to 4000-3500 B.C. Mummified remains dating back to 2000 B.C. have also been unearthed that have tattooed symbols visible on the skin. Moving forward to present day, in 1927, Betty Broadbent was one of the first famous women with a complete body tattoo and worked for the Ringling Brothers. Delving into research, many examples can be found of women with tattoos and the many reasons for this particular form of artistic medium.

Sometime during the 1890s, the view on tattoos in American society changed because tattoos were being associated with criminals and people with loose morals. “…in the late 1920s, the conviction of a rapist was overturned because a small butterfly tattoo was found on the victim (Hawkes, Senn, & Thorn). Both the judge and jury agreed that the tattoo had sexual implications and as a result, it was held that the woman was in part responsible for misleading the man who raped her.”(5) This shift forced tattoo artists to begin practicing their art form in backrooms, in a sense, tattooing as a whole became an underground activity. Slowly as technology became more modern, tattoos began to present a face to society again, mostly due to the military members. Eventually, the face shifted again to include rock stars, actors, models and other public celebrity figures. Today in society, the leading customer base revolves around middle income suburban females in the United States. 

The major changes in the past three decades have led to the development of tattoos into a new, large growing artistic media. This expression of artistic self and uniqueness is something that women are taking seriously. With the development of new inks, equipment and methods; a vast array of possibilities are now available to those seeking to express themselves through tattoos. Through different sociological studies, it has been found that there are different types of tattoo options that women are able to choose from. Feminine tattoos mostly consist of hearts, butterflies, flowers and dragonflies. A feminine twist can be put on what were previously considered male tattoos through changing colors or adding feminine elements such as flowers. Due to the ever-changing cultural view on tattoos, many work environments are changing their policies regarding hiring people with tattoos; they are considering tattoos to be a form of body art and not a reason for discrimination in the hiring process.

The ever-evolving art of tattooing poses a unique cultural issue in society today. Tattooing has been going on for thousands of years and yet the negative stigma remains imbedded in society’s views. Tattooing is quite simply a beautiful, evolving artistic media that many people indulge in world-wide. “In many societies, the tattoo is not an outside inscription on the surface of an already complete body but an external manifestation of the internal. The tattoo's purpose, therefore, is to explain or display a person's internal self on the outside of the body, cementing and solidifying the internal by marking the external. From this perspective, the unmarked body can be constructed as the unnatural because it bears no reflections of what is internal.”(6) Tattoos do not make a woman more inclined to crime or immoral behavior; there remains no such link between the two. As a part of culture, tattoos on women are just another expression of personal uniqueness.

Functioning Illiteracy?

Imagine being a member of the graduating class of 2011. For the last thirteen years, the entire focus has been school attendance and grades. The results are in and class ranking is 365 out of 808 students. Feeling confident number 365 reviews the opportunities carefully. Job applications and college applications seem like they are written in Greek. Yes, number 365 is also a member of the “functioning illiterate” (Henslin, 2007) in the United States.

There have been many leaders in the past that have stressed education in the United States. “Let us think of education as the means of developing our greatest abilities, because in each of us there is a private hope and dream which, fulfilled can be translated into benefit for everyone and greater strength for our nation.”(Education Quote, 1963) Even with the backing of our leaders, this country still has not found a solution to the issues within the education system. More and more youth graduate each year lacking the abilities to interpret what they read and also the abilities to apply simple math computations. How does something this serious continue to go unchecked in our society today?

After giving much thought to the structure of the education system in the United States, I can say with little hesitation that I feel my children are not receiving a proper education. My son is only in kindergarten, graduating later this month into first grade and I am already aware of his lack of phonetic reading abilities. I do not blame his teacher, because she is just doing her job, which is to prepare him for the “Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills (TAKS).”(Wikipedia, 2011) It cannot be explained to me how learning “sight words” is more beneficial to my son than to learn to read through the use of phonics. 

I have done research on how effective the education system is on a national basis. I state emphatically that I am not pleased nor am I surprised with the statistics found. According to one source, the United States verbal score rating on the SAT has dropped significantly since the 1960s. Math ratings also began dropping after the 1960s, but have recently taken a turn for the better. So why would I even contemplate allowing my child to attend school in a flawed system? My son is being taught to count on his fingers for Heaven’s sake! What is supposed to do when he runs out of fingers, take off his shoes and socks in order to count on his toes?

Through my research for a supplement to my son’s education, I found a program that is in its second year of operation. This program is called “Connect A Million Minds,” which “is a philanthropic initiative by Time Warner Cable and its nonprofit partners.”(TWC, 2011) The entire goal of the five-year program is to bring awareness to the public regarding the loss of proficiency in science, technology, engineering and math. Funding is provided for various programs in many communities so that the youth of today can gain knowledge and experience for their road to the future.

I also researched the ranking of students from the United States compared to students from other countries. The results I found were astonishing. While there has been improvement since 2006, the U.S. still ranks in science skills, ranks 25th, in math skills 17th and in reading skills 14th. Our country is not even in the top ten, and we are considered one of the most industrialized nations in the world! I ask, “Why is this situation not considered to be a serious issue among the politicians and citizens of this country?”

I have a couple of choices as an outlandish opponent to the “TAKS” (Wikipedia, 2011) based curriculum in my school district. I can supplement my son’s education via outside resources such as summer reading programs and science camps. I could also choose to move him to a private school or home school him so I will know without a doubt that he is receiving a broad preparatory knowledge base that will help him succeed as a young adult. A decision has to be made soon or more parents are going to draw the same conclusions, and there will be a dramatic drop in public education enrollment.

Saving One Life

Few paid any mind to the innocuous white and grey building as they cruised by in their tricked out cars.  Only a brave few stop, but only when there is an urgent mission to complete. The exterior gives no forewarning of the loud cacophony inside, the piteous hopeless environs encased in cement and paint.  The clerks say nothing upon your entrance; tired, sad eyes might lift from stacks of paperwork, but usually not.  A visitor must follow the signs, cats on one side and dogs on the other, both areas behind foreboding metal doors.  Pictures line the wall helter-skelter style, hundreds of pitiful eyes watching as you shuffle quietly down the hall, in the vain hope of completing your woeful mission.  A draft blows as you open the dreary door brining upon you the complex scent of sorrow, death and pain.  A grey concrete floor with rusted metal grates help drain the urine of the fearful and forgotten, the bruised and the broken.  Your scent raises a chorus of loud whimpering pleas for help along the metal caged hallway.  Forlorn, dirty and hopeful; even though they inhabit a cell with a metal bowl for water, no bed and piles of their own feces.  The wretched conditions pull your very heart as your throat threatens to choke with tears.  To save every single one, a task no lone individual could hope to complete.  But you want to, you feel the need to be a savior, your heart will allow no less.  Moving down the cold, stark cages, each face beckons and begs for your mercy, your rescue.  One has been cruelly shot for fun by his previous owner, one was beaten until her face swelled to the point she lost an eye.  Puppies abandoned in a cloth bag next to the murdered corpse of their mother.  Each story more gut wrenching and vile than the last.  Then, when your soul is raw and bleeding, a bundle of fur approaches his cage door.  He quietly sits, watching as you move along, continuing to read the bitter biographies.  Silently assessing your reaction, smelling your emotions and you stop to look him in his eyes.  At that moment you know, he is the one you will save today.  You rush to the front, through the heavy metal door, hoping to gain the attention of the staff.  Tired eyes flash up in surprise at the loud slam of the door and the running of your feet.  In short breathless words you explain what you need.  Teeth showing smiles of joy light up their faces as they set to preparing the paperwork.  The clerk happily walks back to the area with you and unlocks the prison of the one brave young soul you will flee with from this Hell.  He has no name save for the one in your heart, the one your conscious whispered to you as soon as your eyes met.  For him you will provide a real shelter, no, a real HOME.  A place of Love, Warmth and Fun, in which he will belong, no longer displaced or misplaced.  To him you say quietly, intimately, “Are you ready to go home Max?”  “I think you look like a Max and I Love you already.”  Driving away from that dungeon, neither of you looks back, only forward to the future, to tomorrow.

Dining Out

            If anyone has recently embarked upon the train of parenthood, it is important to remember that your children will surprise you at every turn. It is sometimes said that parenthood is one of the treasures you will have in life, and any parent will agree this is true.  For all of the horrible things that your child can concoct, you would not trade them for anything in the world.  One thing you will experience is the inevitable adventure of dining in public with your children.  These outings will become something of legend, something that while being hazardous, will teach you a new lesson every time.

            On that fearfully hot and humid day, well cooking was completely beyond an insurmountable task. My husband, being the thoughtful and hungry person that he is, suggested that we go to dinner. How exciting! Dinner, just the two of us! What was I thinking; it could not have been just the two of us going to dinner. We must take the children. Oh the children!  So begins the chase to change clothes, wash the random sticky substances always found on those tiny little people and shoes to be hunted down. Absolutely no, we cannot wear the red sneakers.  Oh, the travesty of red sneakers! Amid the chaos is my husband, silently suffering through his belly flattening hunger. In what seems like hours we have finished and are loaded into the car with sippy cups, diaper bags, Nintendo DS with games and hopefully somewhere in the jumble an aspirin or two. By now traffic is heavy, laden with the hopeful and happy people leaving work in droves like bees from the nest. Slow, slow, slowly we drive to our destination, the neighborhood favorite of course, because yes, we HAVE to have chicken fingers and fries on the menu. Can we add a glass of wine for me also? Oh right, this is a family dinner and one must keep on their toes, right? The bright sign and lights beckon us to come in and quick little legs try to speed out into the sweltering heat because it is a fact that there are CRAYONS inside and ROOT BEER! Who could forget root beer? I am sweating from the effort of lugging along my purse, the diaper bag with the Nintendo DS, a sippy cup and a pretty in pink little girl with one sandal.  Wait, one sandal?  What happened to the other sandal?  My question is answered with a quick toothy grin and a feminine shrug of toddler shoulders. Back across the parking lot to find the wayward shoe while the menfolk go put us down for a booth for four, no highchair this time. Crisis averted, we found the sandal, strategically placed behind the car seat and under Fluffy, the stuffed bunny. I make my way back inside with my load of wonder and delight, to see that our table is set up, crayons at the ready. Yes, we must have crayons. By this time I am hardly able to string together a coherent thought, and I still have to make it through dinner. Chicken fingers with fries and an extra PLASTIC plate please, for them. For me it is hard to decide between drowning in the bliss of dessert first and, the stress relieving steak. Safely I will take the steak because my babbling brood would devour my ice cream before I could lift a spoon. EEEKHAAA! Now every eye in the restaurant is focused on my table, I can feel the heat flushing my cheeks brighter than a red delicious apple in the summer. One crayon in the root beer, one crayon broken, one crayon half eaten and one crayon on the floor, yes that makes four. Destroyed in the blink of an eye, hopefully dinner gets here soon, like 9-1-1 soon. Counting my blessings as our food arrives, I divide it up between my street urchins appearing children, and hey, did I not wash them before we left home? Between bites of my rapidly cooling steak, I proceed to play referee. No you cannot have brother’s chicken too, no you cannot have more root beer. In record time we are ready to go back home. 

We have survived another night, lived to tell another tale. Perhaps we will laugh one day about this one, or another one; but they are all adventures worth surviving.