I was raised to believe my body was not mine. Although it wasn’t what they intended, my parents taught me my body belonged to them. Further, because I am female, I learned I was destined to fail my family by inviting rape and sexual assault. I was also explicitly not allowed to pursue body art or piercings other than my ears.
After I was raped, I was sure it was my fault. This is how patriarchal dogma twists consent and supports rape culture. For a long time I believed the “sex” was consensual because it was easier than parsing the intensity of how I explicitly said no, it happened anyway and that meant I had asked for it with my clothes or my actions, etc.
You know this story. There is a good chance we have both lived it. I was victim to rape and the belief that it was my fault for more than a dozen years. It was in college that I came to understand no means no.
Sure, my parents said those words, but they said other words and employed a technique called gaslighting where they would tell me my experiences were not how I remembered them. They did this out of fear that I would be hurt and in an attempt to erase their own mistakes and prevent further hurt. I see how they were trying their best because they didn’t know better just as I have seen them learn better and become better.
ink by Colin at Time and Tide Tattoo
Nearly three years ago I underwent a routine medical procedure which left me septic. I nearly died due to hospital and doctor error. That infection of my blood resulted in severe swelling which burst the abdominal diastasis I experienced in pregnancies. Basically, my abs herniated from ribs to pelvis and everything fell forward.
It was not as severe as it might have been. The hernia kept working to close itself, but it required me not to move. I had young children. Even with my mother by my side for the entire ordeal, I had to seek surgical repair.
That repair resulted in another infection (this time subcutaneous) and ropy scarring. Again, my body was not mine.
I hinted last week that I have finally taken steps planned for years. I’ve always wanted to decorate my body. I chose to have an owlet in two stages of flight and sleeping on my collarbone as the first part of this reclamation. Sitting through the pain while repeating to myself that it was good may sound strange, but the truth was I controlled that pain. I could stop it or start it and I wasn’t choosing it to harm myself (something I’ve done with sharp objects and food).
Much was released through the process of receiving art. It was a challenge, but there is great significance not only to the placement of the owlets but the choice of creature and action. Most of the reasoning isn’t something I’m ready to share. However, having the owlet peacefully asleep on my left shoulder is deeply meaningful; it’s been years since I could be approached from the left without panic. All I know is I was hurt there. I have no memory of how.
ink by Colin at Time and Tide Tattoo
In choosing these tattoos and receiving them, I have broken a boundary created for me. I have granted myself psychological freedom by exercising my right to consent on my terms.
I am deeply grateful to my husband for supporting this project, to the friend who sat calmly with me and documented the process, and to the artist who listened to me and found a way to meet both a need and a desire through his artwork.
I look forward to working with him again. These three images are actually the end of and smallest part of a scene that will stretch around my torso.