Tatt Chat: Exploring body art and cultural identities
Tattoos, big or small, from deathly hallows tattoos (lol) to an ex’s name hidden under a flower, each has some personal history behind the ink. Cultures around the world also have histories of tattoos spanning centuries. For many, traditional and non-traditional tattoos can be linked to tradition, religion and individual self-expression.
Even though she is long gone, a vivid memory I have of my grandmother or Aaji, as I called her, was of the blurry Sanskrit tattoo on the inside of her forearm. My other grandmother also had a Sanskrit tattoo of her name. That practice has fallen out with my parents, aunts and uncles. But there has always been a strong use of both traditional and non-traditional tattoos. From the problematic trend of “tribal” tattoos in the 2010s to seeing traditional tattoos in Parliament, the attitude towards tattoos have changed drastically and for the better.
My older sister Anjula’s experiences of tattoos were a little different. She’s half Sri Lankan and comes from a culture where tattoos are considered normal. But she says that “non-traditional tattoos are a newer thing and I’m not entirely sure how it is received by most Sri Lankans”. Anjula wanted to get a tattoo to “celebrate/have something to forever remind me of my values and beliefs”. She links tattoos to tradition and history and mentions that “for many New Zealanders having a tattoo is also perfectly acceptable, but for others, it may not be”. There were few barriers for her, and noticed how “generally, tattoos have become pretty normal for us all as body decoration”.
In Polynesian cultures, traditional tattoos have endured and are a way of reclaiming identity after years of colonialism. A time where tattoos were a sign of primitiveness and their religious meanings seemed like a challenge to missionaries.
Tattoos are thought of as a sign of a rebellious phase against family norms. But in many cultures, it is something that brings families together. Aaliyah got her first tā moko for her nanny who passed away. To Aaliyah, it was a way to tie her to her tupuna. She said that “In te ao Māori, tā moko is a way of life, it’s a part of whakapapa. Tā moko can tie one back to hapū, iwi, whakapapa, and historical ties, it’s a part of my identity as a Māori.”
From a young age, tattoos were a part of Aaliyah’s family. Aunts, uncles, older cousins and siblings have tā moko or tattoos. In Aaliyah’s whānau, getting a tā moko was the unspoken “norm”, which is something she followed when she was sixteen, only because of her late granddad. She said that she found no barriers to getting her tattoos, but certain tattoos, like the Māori traditional face tattoo, moko kauae, have a lot more mana. The process of getting one involves taking a whole journey. In Aaliyah’s case, the first step of this journey had just started, “I was asked today if I would start my own moko kauae journey, alongside my mother and tuakana. I’m very privileged to have that opportunity. I have decided right now that I, as a mana wahine will start my journey to get my moko kauae.”
For Anya, the attitudes towards tattoos in her home country of Thailand were less than stellar. “I’ve been wanting to get tattoos since I was a kid,” she says, but admitted the older generations were against the idea. The biggest worry that people had about such permanent decisions was that it lowered job opportunities and they believed that those who had tattoos in this day and age were criminals, thugs, hoodlums, etc. Anya’s tattoo journey took five years of convincing her parents that, no, she wouldn’t be left out of the job market and that things were actually quite different in New Zealand.
After her parents realised that she’ll be staying in New Zealand, Anya got her first tattoo.
The attitudes towards tattoos in New Zealand were very different to Thailand, and Anya found that “people don’t care if you have tattoos or not’’. The major difference was the absence of the belief that tattoos lower someone’s standard. An ad from the NZ Police in 2019 encouraged Anya’s decision to get inked and has stuck with her to this day. It was a campaign showcasing the proud ink of many police recruits, which both destigmatised tattoos and encouraged people to join the force. For Anya, the idea of normalising tattoos was new to her, something that she’d never see in Thailand.
It was something that surprised me, too. Growing up, tatts were something you had to be careful about, because what if you regret it? What if it was a mistake? What if it ruins your chances? As a person of colour, also someone who has Asian parents, there is still some of that hesitation when it comes to tattoos, even though there is a strong history of traditional tattoos in rural areas.
Whatever the case, tattoos both traditional and non-traditional will continue, whether it be as a symbol of identity and expression, a time in your life, or a combination of both. In Anya’s case, her opinion was that “tattoos are art, and it’s another way to express yourself”. For my sister, it was a symbol for her to remember “a time of [her] life where lots of big changes were happening”. For Aaliyah, it is tied to cultural journeys and practices, and both “tā moko and non-traditional tattoos in [her] family were a way of expressing yourself”. There’s that cliche saying about pictures and a thousand words, but one thing is for certain when it comes to tattoos, each sure as hell tells a story.