Not that long ago, tattoos were something "respectable" folks never talked about, much less acquired. Now, however, it seems we've landed in a different era in which it's not only O.K. to talk openly and even admiringly about tattoos, but some even consider it a socially redeeming activity for the middle and upper classes to dabble in.I should begin by confessing how relieved I feel about finally publicly airing my attitude toward tattooing: I can imagine it must be a little like how a homosexual feels when making his/her debut out of the closet!
In my solid middle-class, aspiring-to-be-upper-class upbringing, a tattoo was clear and convincing evidence of . . . well, how to say it without appearing to be unduly nouveau blue blood . . . no, there's no other way to say it: Low Class. Trashy. I wasn't formally schooled to acquire this attitude; our family never discussed tattoos. We talked about a lot of things at the dinner table, but they were usually "uplifting"-- never such trivial and anti-social subjects such as tattooing. My sister and I intuitively knew tattoos were Low Class. My disdain for them probably derived from my Dad's silent treatment, but it was probably also connected to the vulgarity of tattoo themes we saw on drug-crazed biker toughs and their molls in photo essays in Life Magazine. A skull and crossbones, a heart pierced with an arrow over "Mom" and similar crude scrawls were sufficient proof to us that those who sported these abominations were either criminals or unappealing anti-social types.
The only tattoo-wearing class that seemed to escape our condemnation were enlisted nav
y swabs-- probably because the tattoo had a certain honorable historical naval tradition going back at least as far as Admiral Nelson. Popeye's anchor tattoo on his forearm that swelled after a slug of spinach also helped soften too harsh judgments about our sailor boys who wore tattoos. That notwithstanding, the lingering subliminal taboo effect was unquestionably at work during that fateful moment in the spring of 1955, when I had to choose which service to enlist in: Army, Air Force, Navy, Coast Guard, or Marines. 
I passed up the three water-oriented military recruiters in Denver--I shuddered at the thought that, after basic training, I'd have to go with my fellow trainees into one of those seedy tattoo parlors outside the military bases. Tattooing, I understood, was an obligatory rite of manly passage for any young sailor or Marine. I wasn't about, just for the sake of camaraderie, to bear "Mom" or a skull and crossbones on my shoulder the rest of my life! I heard that the Air Force had no such a tradition of tattooing its enlistees--so it was into the wild blue yonder after signing an enlistment form on March 16, 1955.
Many years later, while reuniting with my sister, I was thunderstruck when I noticed a delicate
, discreet flower tattoo on her ankle! I pretended I hadn't noticed. But it threw me for a loop. My mind raced. My own sister? At her age? Had she at some time during all those years I hadn't known her, stepped out of her wannabe-born-to-the-manor caste? Had she been a Hell's Angel moll in a youthful, wild fling sometime during the past 50 years? After all, she had lived a long time in California where, everybody knows, motorcycle gangs and other questionable social experiments originate.
For the sake of reconciling those reactionary, misanthropic thoughts, I'm happy I have since discovered that tattoos are no longer the wide social taboo they once were. Therefore, even though I'd still not dare ask my sis, "How come you?," I've made peace with her ankle tattoo with the discovery that an increasing number of female citizens are practicing this brutish craft today.
That said, I've got to get it off my chest: Although tattoo parlors are now called "c
linics," "art centers," and other euphemisms, in my mind they're still "parlors," a word that to me connotes something akin to a 1940s or 1950s seedy pool hall or . . . a tattoo joint. Curiously, even though these modern parlors are "out" today, boast full-color Yellow Page ads, and are dubbed "socially responsible businesses" by local media in search of Style Section stories, the characters who wield their needles seem to retain throw-back images of the olden, seedy days. For example, the "artists" featured in articles all seem to have that professional grubby look of yore--long stringy hair sometimes done in pony tails (sometimes not), often ear- and nosed-ringed, unshaven, sandal-shod, tee-shirted--hardly the white-coat clinical image one might hope to see of a thoroughly reformed profession. But then, I suspect that's part of the mystique in getting punctured--it wouldn't be the slightly naughty, daring, rebellious act, if it were done in a sterile clinical atmosphere by well-groomed, clean shaven operators.
The only significant difference I've noted is that you can no longer see dirt under the operators' fingernails or their nicotine-stained fingers, because in the full color photo-feature articles, they're shown wearing latex gloves as they needle their clients--undoubtedly an imposition on their artistic freedom, as mandated by state licensing authorities. Licenses! Now that's a welcome improvement, I think. I suspect, however, the state examinations (in those states that require a license) might be less than rigorous, consisting of leading questions such as whether the applicant knows the difference between needle sizes, and other challenges such as TRUE or FALSE: "As long you get their consent, you may work simultaneously on two different clients without changing your gloves."
Is it art? Let's define terms: "Art" in my old-fashioned book means the original expression of inspiration, bolstered by unusual skills wielded by the few gifted among us. In other words, patrons of the tattoo industry have hi-jacked the word "art." So let's use the word properly. If you believe "art" consists of tracing templates on someone's shoulder or backside and then filling in the numbered spaces with a designated color of ink--then you and I have an unresolvable problem in semantics. I associate this procedure with the same level of skill required to complete the paint-by-number kits that sell briskly in artsy-craftsy stores to bored housewives trying to "find themselves" and elementary school teachers unqualified to teach art.
So with your concurrence, let's use a different word to refer to tattooing. How about "craft?" People who deliver tattoos would then be called "craftsmen" or "craftswomen." These are not demeaning terms at all. In fact, they differentiate comfortably between original inspired art, while still allowing for a fair amount of recognition that the tattoo parlor technician is a skilled professional (recognizing the curious need Americans today harbor--no matter what his/her particular toil, it's more satisfying to be able to call oneself a "professional") who must exercise a great deal of care in not screwing up the elegant templates (created by others) on the unforgiving human canvas. Or not transmitting diseases via their needles. Admittedly, that does require considerable critical skill and craftsmanship.
I do have one positive observation to make about today's state of the 
tattoo craft: It has come a long way from the pirate skull and bones or the "mom" valentine heart. The more successful parlor operator has a bewildering assortment of templates and can deliver just about anything the Freudian Unconscious Mind can dream up--great advances over the crude "mom" of yesteryear. If a young Marine or sailor today must acquire a tattoo, wouldn't it somehow be more uplifting if he (or she) would be able to sport a multicolored Shinto Dragon symbol or a New Age mod comic-book configuration--sure, they'll cost more, but if tattooing persists in our culture, think what an improvement in aesthetics it would mean to the individual, as well as reflecting somewhat less harshly on our society's sense of "taste."
Look, if you or yours want a tattoo, be my guest. But if you do, don't ask me to accept your decision as some sort of socially redeeming or meaningful event. I realize that from time to time, anthropologists, in pursuit of their "publish or perish" obligations to their institutions, go out into the bush somewhere to live with an aboriginal tribe, then emerge "enlightened" several months later. They publish quaint stories in obscure academic journals about the mores and customs of their primitive hosts, even implying that there are some idyllic reasons that we adopt or better appreciate their habits. Of course, after being charmed and amazed upon reading these reports, one realizes it's all ivory-tower babbling.
Practical reasons not to tattoo yourself:
(1) If you need a permanent picture on your valuable and not easily replaced skin to make a "statement," then evidently you've lost or never acquired effective communications skills.
(2) If your self-esteem is so low that you require a permanent picture on your frame, you're emotionally deprived--best you seek a shrink for relief, not a tattoo parlor craftsman.
(3) Despite the "new reputation" being sought by the parlors, they are still transmitting diseases to their smarmy clients . . . it's a dirty little secret you will run across by Googling "tattoos."
(4) No matter how cleverly dermatologists turn a phrase about laser technology in their late-night TV pitches, tattoos are not completely removable without repeat treatments, which themselves will leave scarring in place of the graphics. Furthermore, the process is very expensive, painful, and time consuming.
(5) Tattoos are socially limiting for anyone aspiring to promotion in their careers. I've yet to hear about a company executive sporting a visible tattoo--unless it'd be a tattoo company. Any corporate boss inevitably will view anyone sporting tattoos as suspect. Why? Executives are supposed to be stable, decision-making individuals. In management's eyes an aspiring corporate employee with a predilection to tattooing would, according to corporate standards, identify himself/herself as suffering the emotional afflictions described in #1 and #2 above--neither of which will inspire much confidence in fellow employees or in the corporation's clients who are entrusted to the company's representative. If I were the employer, I'd be thinking, "Why the hell was this guy(gal) wasting time and money getting the tattoo instead of spending time on education of some kind? Will he/she being wasting company time the same way? Will he/she be able to attract the respect of the people he'll be working with?" If a salesperson, "I wonder how his sales prospects will react to that interesting bloody vampire on the back of his hand?"
The misleading social-psychological origins of tattooing:
Aside from the simple desire to adorn oneself--an oedipal reflex some people succumb to--there is another reason others yield to the tattoo syndrome. They have been deceived by the thought that they are subscribing to a desirable social commonality that identifies them with "ordinary" folks: workers, athletes, military, bikers, etc. That notion comes from a remnant-idea left over from the 1960s hippie era, that was originally stimulated by the Marxist premise of class equality, in which we were told is a characteristic of a social order consisting of happy, smiling clones. Curiously, this odd notion still exists on some American university campuses where it is being pushed by "progressive" poly-sci and sociology professors. However, as most people since 1990 know, the alluring Marxist siren songs are proven dis-harmonies that were composed by authors of gigantic social and political scams. Tattoos, therefore, mark their wearers not as shining individualists, but as dull clones who have been dragged down to the least common denominator.
What's disturbing, if statistics quoted by the admiring media are correct, is the grow
th in popularity of the practice in our country. Would that mean we're headed toward a dull, clone-like society, instead of that shining city on a hill? I'll leave it to others to answer that.
There now, that's it. Tattooing is not a complicated subject. In fact, it's really a very primitive practice that has advanced very little, except for the technology used to inject ink. I've searched my thoughts and done some research in hope of discovering something "deeper" about what attracts a reportedly growing number of occidentals to tattooing. I can't find a satisfying answer. However, I have been able to conclude that just because Fiji Islanders, aboriginals, and other primitive cultures widely practice tattooing, is not a compelling enough reason that we should adopt it or even find it an acceptable habit.
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