I have commitment issues.
Okay, not the kind you’re thinking of. I do just fine in relationships, I’d say. What I really can’t commit to is getting a tattoo. The thought of having a design I chose at a probably premature stage of my life on my body forever is terrifying. For some of my peers, however, the prospect is exhilarating. To better understand that feeling, I had the pleasure of talking to several Kenyon students who have decorated themselves or others with designs. Call it exposure therapy: By the time our conversation was over, I was ready to go under the needle.
Commitment is not a concern for Ruth Beery ’29, who got her first tattoo shortly after her 18th birthday and hopes to accumulate more. In fact, getting a tattoo gives her a feeling of control. “I really love wearing my art,” Beery, who is a studio art major, said in an interview with the Collegian. “I think, a little bit more shallowly, I just like having pretty things all over my body. It just makes me happy when I look at myself, and I’m like, ‘Wow. Like, that’s on me. Forever.’”
Beery not only proudly sports five tattoos, but also practices tattooing herself, and has long had an interest in ink. When she was 14, she began saving photos of tattoos she particularly liked to a Pinterest board, and when she got her hands on a temporary tattoo marker at a party, she realized that she wanted to wear the art she had been admiring. “I went to this party in high school, and we all just covered each other in tattoos,” Beery said. “And I was like, ‘Wow. This feels so good.’ I love being covered in tattoos, and I love drawing them. … So I started by giving myself stick-and-pokes.”
Since those initial attempts, Beery has come far. She has tattooed around 10 people, many of whom draw their inspiration from Pinterest like she once did, but especially enjoys sessions where she gets to create custom designs. “It’s always nice when somebody has something in mind that they want, and we have to figure it out together,” she said. The task doesn’t come without some trepidation, though. When tattooing another person, Beery always worries that they won’t like the result. “[Making a mistake] is something that you have to be kind of okay with when you get one, but it’s hard to be the one to do that,” she said. “As someone receiving it, I don’t really care. I love it anyway. But as someone doing it? Scary, scary, scary, scary, scary.”
Like Beery, JP Harris ’29’s tattoo journey also began with stick-and-pokes. Their first tattoo, a bird on their lower stomach, was done by a friend. Harris has since gotten two more, one of which was done by an artist in Mexico City whose work they saw on Instagram prior to arriving. Harris opted for a tiger on their shoulder, a design that had stuck out to them upon finding the artist’s profile. When choosing a tattoo, they often select art that speaks to them even if it doesn’t carry significance. “If there’s something that I’m really drawn to, and I’m like, ‘Yeah, I want that. I want to just look at that forever,’ then I think I don’t really need there to be a special meaning for my tattoos or anything. I just like having something to look at,” they said. Evidently, Harris does not struggle with selecting designs. What they find most difficult about the process is the helplessness that tattooing can evoke. “I think the willingness to let — usually — a stranger have you in this really vulnerable position for usually like an hour, I think that’s really interesting,” they said. “It’s an interesting way that we put our bodies on the line.”
While Harris’ free spirit is commendable, their approach is not shared by Esme Towles ’27, whose three tattoos all correspond to personal anecdotes. “I’m a strong believer that if, no matter how stupid the actual tattoo might be, if it has a story behind it, I don’t really think you’ll ever regret it, because at a point in time, it meant a lot to you,” she said.
On one arm, Towles has a red diamond, a design that she shares with other members of her family. “My parents and my brother and I … used to play cards a lot when we were growing up, and it was our way of hanging out all as a family. And since I was 13, we knew we wanted to get a matching family tattoo, and we decided on each getting one of those suits of cards,” she said. “We each have one of the symbols, but the girls have the red ones and the boys have the black ones.”
On her wrist, she has a small rock, piece of paper and pair of scissors. Whenever she and her brother got into a fight growing up, they would play rock-paper-scissors to settle it, so the pair got matching tattoos to represent the tradition. “We got these last November,” she said. “Same spot, same size.”
Maybe my twin sister and I should try playing rock-paper-scissors the next time we’re arguing over who forgot to put the chocolate milk back in the fridge. Or, instead, we could get a tattoo of the carton itself. After all, tattoos have a remarkable capacity to create connections between people, as these stories showed me. I still think I’d struggle to commit to a design, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult with the knowledge that a tattoo is also a commitment to something you love — whether that be a drawing, a deeply meaningful story or a dear friend.