I can’t sing, dance, draw, publicly speak, eat healthy, keep my cool, wink, smile nicely, look in both of your eyes, paint, say how I honestly feel, wear jeans without wanting to stab my thighs, laugh humanly.
I can’t wait to live alone so I can dictate my television volume, be naked and not care, paint my walls a cheescake yellow, have my living room walls to be covered in an alphabetical DVD library, control my thermostat.
I started thinking one day how I’ve never really seen any serious traditional ladyheads of black women in tattooing. If I can’t think of any, that at least means its rare if anything. Sadly, racism still exists in tattooing, and I’ve unfortunately witnessed it countless times. It’s fucked up and it makes me hate a lot of the trends that so many people try to pass off as continuing on tradition. I hope the new generation of tattooers starts to bring in more of their own personality and creates work with care and mindfulness. Our work is too important to ignore our influence. This is a big “fuck you” to all the racist fucks I’ve met in this craft, and hopefully the start of some new imagery from my peers. Beauty is beauty.