Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Women Empowering Themselves with Indelible Ink


Cherry Bomb
'Hello, Daddy, Hello Mom, I'm your Cherry Bomb...'

The Runaways, an all-girl group that included an incandescent young Joan Jett took the world by storm with this song.  Dressed often in the hottest lingerie or costumes that evoked the world of Dominance and Submission, they sang about female empowerment.  I lived both in London and West Hollywood during the Golden Age of Punk Rock and it was an exciting movement and an exciting period in music.

That sort of energy and social message was not part of my own childhood, however.  My mother was of the firm opinion that 'nice girls' did not pierce their ears nor did they play the drums.  I longed to play the drums from the age of 4 or 5 but although my stepfather taught music and had access and the ability to teach every musical instrument, he sided with my mother and emphatically prohibited any contact with a drum set.

I turned then to tap dancing and shamanic drumming, learned to play the traditional madhal drum in Nepal and other drums later by myself but never really had the chance to play a drum set.  It's too late for that now, but I still love the drums.   The beat of the drum is the beat of the heart.  Every shaman knows that and it is an activity that changes a person's breathing, heart rate and pulse, as well as being capable of transformation into a steed you can ride to the 'Otherworld'.

Being physically disabled now is one of the most depressing realities in my life.   Getting older I believe is slightly depressing for most women but to be denied full physical mobility is the icing on this horrid cake.  I long to use a sword, my nunchuks, to dance, to practice a kata, to walk a mile, for God's sake or even walk through the garden, but the flesh continues to break down at an alarming speed.

So where does one go for empowerment?  I think that many people have found extraordinary power in 'ink'.  To inscribe a picture, an icon, a rune or a message on the flesh forever is a very distinct act of Will.  It is an act of permanent transformation.

It is so interesting to remember the reputation that tattoo parlours had when I was a child.  All the tales were of drunken sailors who awakened with a new tattoo, not remembering any of the process.  What this implied,  inter alia, was that there was no Will involved, no real Choice, no mens rea to be combined with the actus reus that resulted in the commission of a shameful deed.

Mr. Rogers beloved of children could not wear a short-sleeved shirt because he had a tattoo from the days of his youth.  Well, the world has changed for the better, indeed, has undergone a change in terms of ink that could have tilted its axis a little.

Lena Dunham who created the hit series 'Girls' may not have been the first female to display her ink proudly but the series definitely opened eyes and had a powerful social effect.  The fact that she did not have a classical 'model's body nor even professional or aesthetically beautiful tattoos and yet displayed her flesh at the drop of the proverbial hat empowered us all.   Sadly, she has changed her image radically now to appear more like an old-fashioned pin-up girl.  Not certain why because her original image was so raw, so potent, so awe-inspiring... what she has become is merely a clone. Pretty perhaps but less powerful definitely.

My daughter is named Freya.  I gave her the name of the most powerful woman in any culture or mythology, a goddess who presided both over the arenas of War and of Love, who let no man rule her or dictate the rules of existence to her.  I took the name of Freyashawk on the internet when she was four years old because I was her Guardian and the Hawk belonged to Freya.  She had a cloak that would allow her to transform herself into a Hawk in fact.  Freya now is quite capable of being her own Guardian.  In fact, she has given me some lessons in female empowerment and I am proud of my high-flying daughter.

When she came of age, one of the first things she wanted to do was to get a tattoo.  I told her that it constituted a rite of passage in which I would like very much to participate.  I designed her first tattoo and went with her.  We had our first tattoos at the same time.   Hers was a bindrune of her name.  Mine was the crest of Napoleon, one of my lifelong idols.

Deciding upon it was very difficult actually, partly because there were a few quite diverse emblems or symbols that I would have liked and partly because my budget was very limited.  One can't always have precisely what one wants.  One has to be happy with a modified version often.  Nonetheless, symbols do have power and that is what matters most.  It is quite attractive as well, although one of my problems with it is that I only can see it in a looking-glass.

After the first, my daughter went on to add more but I never did.  She recently added a gorgeous Lord of the Rings inspired tattoo to her forearm.  It features the Tree of Gondor.  I liked it so much that she gave me a gift certificate for a new tattoo of my own.

Again, I had to weigh practicality and a limited budget with my desires.  In the end, I decided upon a simple bindrune.  It contains within it some very potent runes:  Inspiration, the World Tree, the Ladder to Heaven, Joy, Sacrifice, Gift, the Wheel of the Sun, the Need-Fire and Victory.  In fact, the rune of Inspiration is at one end and Victory is at the other.  I choose runes rather than forming a word with the Bindrune, although I daresay I could find a word that would be spelled out.  Inter alia, one could spell Tara.

My initial concept was to have the entire Futhark in a sort of armband to encircle my upper arm.  This bindrune would have depended from the centre of the band like a pendant.  When I was appraised of the cost of that design, however, I had to choose the simple bindrune instead.

I no longer drive.  I no longer can walk very far and when I do, I need support.   To go from Point A to Point B is a major undertaking.  The people who usually take me to the market or anywhere important are dead-set against tattoos.  To keep an appointment with a tattoo artist required rather audacious and convoluted planning.

And yet I did it.  I almost commandeered a ride from a total stranger at one point when I thought my complex plans were going awry badly.  I was determined and would have moved heaven and earth because to me, it represented far more than the act of getting a design, however potent, inscribed on my flesh.  It would prove that I was capable still of ACTING on my own.

Coincidentally, it was the coldest day of the winter which intensified the difficulty of the entire adventure.  Fortunately, I did obtain the aid of a very nice guy in whom I did not even confide.  He was polite enough not to ask, but I told him that it was extremely important to me and that he had done me a tremendous service.  He was very gracious about it...

In fact, the tattoo artist does not drive either and was rather impressed when I told him of my adventure and how I went up to a woman who was getting out of her car to beg her to take me to the shop...  Her kindness actually is part of the whole rite now and once more has given me faith in the essential goodness of most people.  The neighbourhood where we lived for almost two decades was quite a dangerous one and still is in some cases.  Gang shootings are not uncommon and often Freya's friends would not be allowed to visit her when she was a child.  She had to visit them.  And yet, in that neighbourhood, I always found people who were generous and kind, who did more to help than people in Suburbia for the most part.  I never was afraid really, living there.  How could I be though?  I lived in London, Paris, Manhattan, Los Angeles and other big cities, navigating between the best areas and the worst.  You can be shot even in the poshest of neighbourhoods, and hit by a car even on a quiet promenade.  It's all a matter of Destiny really.

The amazing part of the whole experience is the way the new rune makes me feel.  It has empowered me and renewed my spiritual energy.  It makes me determined to hang on, to meet each new day and get through it somehow, however severe the pain and however limited my choices at present.  I kept that small appointment with Destiny.  Who can tell me that I don't have a future?  I will return to Nepal one day.  I will have a bigger window on the Universe than the one I currently possess.  No one EVER has been able to limit me.  Why should I allow my own body to do that?

One does limit oneself often, however.  Even as a young girl, I always kept a journal but whenever I was given a very expensive journal, I often was afraid to use it, because I wrote with a fountain pen in indelible ink as it were and feared that I would mar the perfection of the book with a mistake.  I therefore failed to take full enjoyment of the exquisite books with handmade paper and bindings.  Even beyond that, were my daily musings worthy of that?  Sometimes, when I did write in those books, it would be to transcribe a favourite poem or maxim by some one else... seldom anything of mine though.

How different is my daughter!  I have found many books of that sort that were given to her through the years, and she scribbled in them freely, using them for any and every sort of writing.    I was a little horrified to find a shopping list in one but how is that more wasteful than leaving the pages empty?  (Incidentally, I am a firm believer in the right to privacy and it was only when I had to decide whether to keep a book or toss it that I looked in these books of hers at all.)

Given this reluctance even to mar the page of an expensive journal with an 'error' or something less than worthy, it is amazing that I actually could have a tattoo executed on my own body.   There are symbols that are redolent of significance to me and always have been, but how to choose one over the other?  I would not wish to have my entire body covered with ink, although it can be breathtakingly beautiful when it is done by a great artist.  I only ever conceived of a couple of tattoos ultimately, mainly in 'discreet' locations.  I am that much a product of my generation I suppose for better or worse.

Now though, I am beginning to realise that what other people see is not as important as what I invest in myself.  Why should I not have a design where I can enjoy it without any difficulty, without stripping off my clothes or finding a convenient mirror?

The guy who did my tattoo is very interested in Norse mythology and we had a great chat while he worked.  He told me he had wanted tattoos from earliest childhood.  He is covered in them now.  He said, however, that his girlfriend has none.  His whole existence appears to be a celebration of diversity and the ability to accept other people the way they are.

I remember an early fascination with the ancient Picts and their woad paintings on their bodies, but as a child and even as a young woman, I never considered having a tattoo myself.  It was only with the Celtic revival and all the complex designs inspired by it that I actually entered a tattoo shop a number of years ago to look at their books and ask for prices.  I saw some armbands and ink torcs of twisted vines or thorns that were very appealing.  I never followed through with it though.

My own mother is extremely rigid still but Patrick, the tattoo artist, told me about a woman of 75 who had her first tattoo last week.  Bravo for her!  I do not think it is something every woman should have or experience but I do believe that we need to be freed from all the prejudices and social constraints of the past, to feel we are free to place indelible marks on our own skin if we choose to do so and not be considered less than nice for making that choice.

When I think about all of these prejudices, I believe that they were born of the concept that a woman did not own her own body.  She was nothing more than the chattel of a man.  She first belonged to her father and then to her husband.  If the husband died, she would be ruled by her son.  A concept like virginity is outdated as well because it was part and parcel of that same male-dominated idea that a woman's body belonged to a man.   A woman should be able to do whatever she pleases with her body.  The sooner every woman understands and accepts that, the better.

This takes me back to the song, 'Cherry Bomb' by The Runaways.  The 'Cherry' of course refers to a woman's virginity traditionally and is a symbol that predates the Middle Ages.  For the 'Cherry' to be a 'Cherry Bomb' is in a way similar to the concept of the Vagina Dentata or Vagina with Teeth, that symbol that is so terrifying to the male of our species who often cannot even bear the visualisation of the opening that, if his member is inserted therein, will bite it clean off!

I did not have a firm idea bout the first or second tattoo... but there is a design that I do want now quite desperately and I want it placed somewhere I could see it without a looking glass.  I am copying it below:


It has everything but above all, it would be a focus for travel to another dimension.  I foresee a time when pain will be utterly unbearable.  I am on heavy pain medication now.  Where do I go from here when the pain increases?  I rather think that a design like this might allow me to escape from the shackles of my own body to a place of relief and peace.  In any case, I am going to try to make this occur.  This is a design that I would be happy to take with me to the tomb, that I would like to think would define me a little.  The two Ravens of Odhinn are named 'Thought' and 'Memory'.  What could be more fitting than the two embracing the Tree of LIfe/Death/Rebirth?  What could be more empowering?