If I colored my soul, it’d be black and purple. Instead, I’ve covered my body in black ink and splashes of colors.
I’ve littered my body with six tattoos: a cross on my left hip (a leftover from my days as a young potential missionary), a Dr. Seuss quote on my left foot, a snake blooming out of a rose on the outside of my left thigh, two symbols from different video games on my right thigh and a mother giraffe giving her baby a kiss on my right ribs.
Most of these aren’t deeply meaningful. One of them was a complete whim; I mentioned to a friend we should get tattoos on a Wednesday, so we were at the shop getting tattooed on Friday. We didn’t even pick the design. We gave the artist free range on our bodies because we knew him and his art.
More Americans are getting tattooed than ever, and 20 percent of Americans are tattooed. Of that 20 percent, 40 percent are millennials. Some scholars postulate that our generation has an identity crisis, and we use tattoos to create an identity rather than label their identity.
I agree with them.
Now more than ever, we are allowed to choose who we are. I am the daughter of a commercial airline pilot and a medical administrator. I am the granddaughter of a pilot, two homemakers and a soldier. I’m none of those things. I’ll never be any of those things.
I’ve used my body to help define who I am. I cover myself in beautiful art, and use tattoos to direct my identity and how I present myself to the rest of the world. Most of the art is black and bold, giving myself the edge my face would never allow me to have.
Despite any wandering thoughts of cultivating me into a Southern Belle or the perfect child, I get to define who I am. Using tattoos as a criticism of developing millennial identity doesn’t show superiority of older generations. It explains the key difference: millennials allow you to become who you are. In Southern culture, we fight change. So Mississippians give precedent to history of progress, and millennials have reshaped our reality using our image.
Our bodies are another venue for finding ourselves. Tattoos aren’t always deep and packed with meaning. Our definitions come and go with waves. The quote on my foot says: “Now my troubles are going to have trouble with me.”
There are two important facts related to the tattoo. One: it’s misquoted. Two: it was an impulse buy after a Pinterest binge. Some days, it’s just a beautiful addition to my body. Other days, it reminds me I’m stronger than my struggle.
I’m not using my body to process daddy issues or cover up emotional scars, I’m cultivating who I am. My inner progress is mirrored by my evolving skin, and it’s one of the only ways I can make who I am inside match my outer appearance. If that’s not beautiful, I don’t know what is.
Holly Baer is a senior religious studies major from Flowood.
