Excuse me, sir...

A lot of the conversations we have with strangers here in India begin with those words. Most of the strangers who approach us are men, and all of them, men and women both, address Robert.

Today we were walking along the road on campus when out of the corner of my eye I saw Zion push his sister. I stopped to demand answers, which quickly turned into Robert and I telling both kids to knock it off and be nice to each other, for the love of G-d.

As wer were standing there scolding our offspring a guy on a motorcycle passed us, slowed down, started to turn around and then apparently thought better of it and kept going.

"That was weird", Robert said, as we all set off again.

Just then the guy did turn around. He puttered slowly back to us, then cut the engine on his bike, hopped off, and addressed Robert.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Hi", Robert said.

"You have very nice tattoos. Could I take some pictures of them?"

This was a new one. No one's ever asked for pictures before!

"Sure", said Robert, and pushed up his sleeves so the guy could see his...sleeves. The man practically yelped with delight.

"Ah! They go all the way up!"

He took at least half a dozen pictures of Robert's arms from different angles, being careful to get as much of the design as possible. He chatted while he took pictures, asking us where we were from, if we liked Bangalore...the usual kind of casual chatter.

"Thank you, sir", he said when he was done. Then he looked at me somewhat uncertainly. He girded his courage and said, "Could I take some of your tattoos as well?"

"Of course", I said, secretly pleased that my tattoos weren't being left out. He took fewer pictures of mine, and didn't get as close to me as he had to Robert.

He straightened up when he was done and said, "There are people who do tattoos here, but...nothing like this. Nothing like this level of detail and quality."

"The same guy did almost all of both of our tattoos", said Robert. "We're lucky; we just happen to live really close to him, and he's great."

Then our tattoo admirer smiled, jumped on his bike, said goodbye, and gave us a thumbs up as he drove away. I swear, every day here brings new and surprising things! I love it.

Here are a couple of pictures of my mini photo shoot. Note that the guy is wearing a shirt with an American flag, and part of the NYC cityscape  that says, "My heart beats for Brooklyn".

Tattoos

Yesterday both my sister in law and a friend posted a link to an article about the history of Caucasian women and tattoos on my Facebook wall. I was pleased that they thought of me when they read the article, but it was also somewhat bittersweet, because here in Bangalore, for the first time, I find myself making a conscious effort to cover up my tattoos.

One of the things that I found particularly interesting about the brief article (basically a review of a longer book that I've wanted to read for some time), was the fact that in American culture tattooed women have historically been viewed in a very voyeuristic, passive-object-of-the-active (read: male)-gaze way. The first known American woman with tattoos, Olive Oatman, became a celebrity simply on account of having them. Many subsequent tattooed women became circus attractions (or were tattooed in order to become circus attractions), some, such as Betty Broadbent, entered beauty contests, while others showed their tattoos "recreationally" (which I assume means that they were not paid to do so). Yet in each case the women were essentially objects to be viewed, whether with admiration or disgust, by others.

In my experience, things haven't changed much, though it surprised the hell out of me when I found that out. My first tattoo is on my back, so not generally visible when I'm out in public. My second tattoo, on my arm, is very visible, and I was shocked to discover that having a visible tattoo made me, in some ways, public property. Strangers approached me everywhere-- at the post office, the grocery store, on hiking trails and in parking lots. They followed me in department stores, and shouted at me across the street. The fact that my tattoo was writing in another language contributed hugely to this, as nearly everyone wanted to know what it said. They were virtually all friendly, but I was unnerved by the attention. My tattoo was for me, and I simply had not anticipated that so many people would want to talk to me about it. It felt invasive, and eventually I had that tattoo, which I loved dearly, partially covered over in order to obscure the letters and, I hoped, stop the constant attention and questions that came up whenever I bared my arms.

And it did help. Now you have to be close to me to realized that I have writing on my arm, and that has cut the number of stranger inquiries I receive by about 80%. My tattoo was no longer stressful for me.

Over the past two years I've had both my arms tattooed to the elbows, and one leg tattooed part way up my calf. I still don't receive anywhere near the number of comments and inquiries I did when I had the just the one tattoo on my arm. I don't know if that's because none of my newer tattoos are words, because tattoos have become even more common in the US in the ensuing decade, because New Yorkers are less likely to talk to strangers on the streets than Californians, because I'm older and grumpier looking, or a combination of all of them, but I'm glad of it. I don't mind my tattoos generating some attention (and at this point it would be naive of me to expect that they wouldn't), but I disliked feeling like I was always on display.

Here in Bangalore, things are a bit different. Even with my tattoos covered I stand out. I'm as tall or taller than most men, I'm very light skinned, and I have my two light skinned children with me everywhere I go. And I've noticed that when my arms are uncovered, people, especially men, stare at me even more. And by stare, I don't mean a passing glance...I mean that they stare at me until they pass me, and then they stare until they can't crane their necks any further.  And even though I understand why, I don't much like it. So I've found myself wearing 3/4 and elbow length sleeves, or a shawl, whenever I go out. I'm not totally comfortable with this, either. It reduces the staring, yes, but at what cost? My choices, and the choices of other tattooed people, won't ever become normalized if we cover our tattoos in situations where they might be perceived as unusual or unprofessional. On the other hand, even without my tattoos I am not normal here, and maybe I have enough to be getting on with without the added weirdness of my half blue arms. I'm not sure.

Right now elbow length sleeves are perfectly comfortable, but in a month or two it will become very hot, and I really dislike having my shoulders covered in very hot weather. So I suppose I'll see where I am on the issue when it becomes too hot to be comfortable with my tattoos covered. Maybe I'll decide that the extra staring is worth it for me to be a bit more comfortable. Or maybe not. If I do uncover my arms at least I'll be in good company: I'll have the whole history of the tattooed-woman-as-circus-freak behind me. Because while tattoos have become increasingly common, we as a culture (and cultures) still believe that if individuals make choices about their bodies that might draw more attention to them they must want that attention, and therefore they have no right to complain when they receive it. I disagree. But I also know that it goes with the territory, and I hope that when the hot weather comes I feel ready to face the additional stares.