Dreamcatchers, anchors and infinity symbols galore: matching permanent marker adorns the bodies of every basic out there. A set of popular designs have taken over needles and taken up some heated conversation. These popular symbols have become easy to write off – just basic ink in bad taste.
Hold up partner, and take a (pretentious) step back: So what if she has a basic and cliche tattoo?
Yes, the ink may fade with the trend. She may have gotten the tattoo on a dare, or with a sorority sister, or for an ex-boyfriend. She might bullsh-t any significant meaning connected to the design or regret her permanent decision a few years later. But honestly, that’s not the point. The truth is that this badass lady still underwent the same pain and commitment all you tattoo junkies crave.
Now I am no tattoo expert, basic or not. I only have one small tattoo that doesn’t quite fit the basic criteria. (Clearly I’m biased, but hey, no one has ever correctly guessed what my ink is.) Yet I still feel qualified to speak up on behalf of these ladies, simply because I too was once you: a basic tattoo shamer.
Before I got my tattoo back in 2014, I thought about it for five years. The design was not incredibly elaborate but I wanted to be surer than sure before I stamped on that little black ink. Once I was certain, I gripped the leather recliner with my sweaty palms as I suffered through 15 minutes of pain for a permanent stain on my wrist. And man, I freakin’ loved it.
When people discovered I had a tattoo, they brushed over the “OMG how did you do it?” and aggressively pressed with the “Well, what is it?” Most of the inquisitors didn’t really care that I mustered up the courage to go under the needle. (Except my rebellious older cousin, who was annoyed and aghast her scaredy-cat baby cuz had beaten her to the chair.) All they wanted to know is what I thought was so special that I wanted it on my body, forever and always.
After reluctantly explaining my tattoo’s design and meaning, they lowered their attacks. “Oh okay, at least it’s not basic.” I clutched to my ink’s acceptance with these seven words. Sure, I could have a tattoo – just as long as it was something no one else had, wanted, or could figure out.
I joined the pretentious ranks and judged women based on the content of their tattoo. Only non-basic ink could qualify you for our crew of exclusive badassery. Flowers and butterflies? That’s cute. Forget it sister, you’re never gonna be as cool as us.
Except we were the ones who weren’t cool. We were the pretentious ones, hiding in the shadows of our indie cred and denouncing anyone who tried to butt in. A textbook case of schoolyard bullies that set up camp in a tattoo parlor.
Everyone seems to have an opinion on what women choose to put on (or in) their bodies. Clothes, calories, condoms – ladies get shamed for however they decide to decorate or celebrate their frame. What gives any of us the right to condemn women for getting popular tattoos? Substitute tattoo designs for fishnets and you’ve got yourself a classic case of slut shaming, just without the sex.
So what if she has a basic tattoo? She is just as badass as you, as me, as that biker dude on the freeway, as that hipster sipping craft beer. She still went to the parlor, she still has ink, and she should still wear her sleeve proud.
