Having recently redownloaded, redeleted and now in the stages of reflection- I “met” another person online (which right now, with our Governor banning gatherings of over 200 people, really put a damper on the speed dating/orgy event I was planning on hosting).

Our conversation turned from puppet gifs to their tacit confession that- gasp!- they didn’t have ANY tattoos, nor plans for any.

Now, the rarest of all breeds in Portland is a queer who is under the age of 30 sans tattoos, they’re like seeing a trillium in spring- especially if they state firmly that they also, “have no plans on changing their virgin skin state” anytime soon. However, this human is 36, so I have met people like them, with Virgin Skin already.

Secret? I have tattooed a few of them actually. That contingent of health conscious, professional healer queers, is my actual audience for tattoos.

Still, they continued, “My bestie is going to the tattoo school in Portland (more about this later), and I have a bunch of respect for the craft and application.”

I responded, since I am INCREDIBLE AT SMALL TALK, that really, while I was, “a tattoo apprentice, working to become a tattoo artist- I really identify with being a ridiculous artist. Living a ridiculous artistic life. Actually, that’s my gender presentation too: ART-ist.”

Now, I stated this casually and with humor because I know that people see me one way, and my insides are very different from how they perceive me. I am aware that I come off rather butch. What people who actually know me know, is that I am a Cis-female, who is queer identified, who knows how to get her own shit done, has always been comfortable with large scale art work and who is deeply socialized female with tons of the caretaking and femme tendencies as a lover, but not a stagnant, receptive type of woman. #notapillowprincess #notahousewife #queer

Within seconds, my new friend had agreed with me. “Ridiculous artist is totally my gender identity too!”

This is a common conversation in Portland, gender identity, sexuality, presentation, passing politics, trans rights, queer rights, POC LGBTQ rights and access to spaces. When I was in college, my activism self was deeply activated. Post college, I care less about the politics and semantics of “The Issues” around these discussions.

My values seem to have distilled down to:

Listen deeply to people, as often as I can and work to see and hear where they are coming from. Ask questions, do research, read up on concepts I don’t yet understand.
If a person asks me to address them in a certain way, hold space for them in my surrounding area both by looking at them and practicing their correct desired pronouns, practicing their name and honestly, policing my environment.
The guys at my shop work really hard to get pronouns right. I happen to have a bunch of clients who have confusing pronoun/gender presentation. Like, confusing enough that I get it wrong sometimes when my political/humans right brain is turned off and my visual recognition brain is turned on. Which is exactly what happens while tattooing. I might even forget your name for a moment. The communication between the two spheres of the brain is more sparse than I would like.
As a shop, we talk about what pronouns my clients use, and how to better use certain ones as a shop. We are not perfect, by far, but still, I regularly have trans clients, who bus two plus hours to see me, so I feel like I am putting in the work to respect clients who are different from me. I feel like my need to respect people translates, at least, to my clients.
Speak up for other people who are not experiencing compassion or acceptance in the world at large. I don’t like a bully. I don’t like a person who needs to cut other people down to build people up, and I don’t tolerate them in my space, or around the people I care about.
Which, with Trump having been President for the last four years, has opened a huge swarm of bully’s coming forward and laying their claim to their “White Man Rights”. This is some damn fucked up shit, and thinking about that- actually makes my activist brain begin to freak out and start sourcing frustrating moments and articles, and stories and experiences of the last four years.
Because, this is wrong. People shouldn’t be treated badly, or unfairly, or harmed because they are different from us. We humans are rather similar when you take a minute to look at us. People are still dying, right now, because of their racial profile, because of their parents choices, because they have a different gender presentation than is easy to conceptualize. Humans fear what they don’t know. It’s a survival tactic. Kill or fight the unfamiliar. Again, this is wrong, and rather useless in the society we have co-created, except as a way to halt change and limit transformation.
Hold space for myself as well. I am a queer, white, artist who not only chameleons in the great wide word as a potentially straight Mom, but also can’t be identified as a tattoo artist from the outside. My survival depended on it. I learned this from a young age. And my survival, and my story, are different from your story.
My survival has always depended on my ability to both be noticed, and to be part of the background as a comforting force. Who I actually am, is different from who I present- except for the driven, ambitious artist self. She is the strongest me, and as such, is female, female bodied, female promoting and queer in her politics, her art, and the way she addresses her sexuality. She is me, and I am Artist, with a capital A. I am Artist enough that I would scarlet letter embroider it across all of my outfits if I had the whim and access to a script capable embroidery machine.
Ultimately, the politics of gender are a personal, political battle between self expression desires and need for survival. My brain sees that- recognizes that and applauds each individual brave enough to wear a tutu, or high heels, or strange, unusual make up, or get their face tattooed, or dress butch, or slap on a costume with a cape.

I know how much effort it takes for me to just wear color in the world of today. And I am a white woman, with long hair, a bubbly personality and a sweet smile. So you do you boo. And I will do my best to understand and connect to you when our paths cross.

Foot note: Also, no, the link to the orgy is not me. Never go to an orgy during Virus season and expect me to show up. Really, never go to an orgy of any kind and expect me to be there. Unless it’s Burning Man, and you have bought me a ticket. Then all bets go out the window on my regular opinions of orgys.