Content Warning: Mentions of Suicide, Needles, and Alcohol
As I write this my hands are still tingling in the way that only inflicting high levels of pain and then stopping can make skin tingle. An hour ago, I got two hand tattoos, the first tattoos I have gotten in the traditionally “unprofessional” locations of above the neck and below the wrists.
The tattoos are two beautiful roses, with clean lines and no shading, and they sit right at the corner of my hand’s backside, partially spilling onto the side of each hand. The choice of two roses was one I made only a few weeks ago when I booked the appointment; the form of these tattoos means little compared to the location. By placing them on the hand I have become “unemployable”. Careers in corporate office jobs and “respectable” professions have been denied to me unless I undergo expensive laser removal.
The thing is that as a transgender and non-binary woman I am already unemployable. These tattoos are an escalation in the battle I have with myself every time I get dressed or take estrogen. It is the war between shrinking back into passing as a man or continuing my transition into something that I still do not quite understand. It is the difference between dysphoria, depression, and unbidden suicidal thoughts and the possibility of a better life.
Three years ago, I got a tattoo on my left forearm, right beneath the elbow. While I did not quite understand it then my drive to get that tattoo was to remove a choice from my life. For two years I had been selling blood plasma twice a week to get through undergrad while only working one part-time job. I have a large tract mark at the crook of my left elbow which was pierced with a needle countless times for me to eat, buy alcohol, and date. The policy of BioLife at the time was that they would not draw blood from any spot within three inches of a tattoo. I got that tattoo when I was in a stable enough financial situation where I could close that source of income permanently. It remains one of my favorite tattoos.
To me, the two roses on my hand are removing the choice of letting systemic transphobia push me back into a way of living that denies my gender identity. By getting these tattoos I have removed a path in my life that gives into the fear I have every time I make a step in my transition; the fear that one day I will not be strong enough to face this world and that I would be better off returning to “being a man”. No matter what I face in this life as a transperson it will be better for me than the years of pain I felt living as a “man”.
Under this system there is no such thing as a “respectable” transwoman. Anyone willing to hire one of us is not going to change their mind because of a hand tattoo. I recognize that this is only possible because of the privilege I still retain as a white person working towards a career that will accept my gender identity. This is not an option for many people. But for me, tattoos continue to be a way of exerting autonomy over my body after it has been taken from me in so many ways, even if that autonomy means removing some choices from my life.
