Tattoo Glue & Life Adhesive

I grew up in a house where self-expression was mocked.

I grew up hating myself and carrying that trauma through life.

I knew from a young age I was different. I was gay, obviously. The signs were there; my obsession with Britney Spears and my love for ‘Charmed’, as well as my hate for contact sports. It was clear from a young age I was a certified homosexual.

I have a conspiracy theory that my childhood was a series of microaggressions and ways of suppressing my sexuality.

• The shaved head.

• Turning the TV over at the word ‘gay’.

• Hearing ‘that’s so gay’ when referring to something bad.

• Being called ‘a little girl’ for expressing emotion.

I couldn’t express myself freely.

When you're a child, you know if your voice is being stifled; it's when you speak your truth and people don't listen. After a while, I stopped telling them things altogether.

It's where anxiety about my identity started; the gaslighting over my emotions, the mocking, the fear that their love is based on conditions. Adults think you'll forget that when you're older.

I haven't.

I channelled my voice into being creative. I wrote. I drew. I read. I continued and I kept to myself closed off. I glued myself and who I was shut for so long, I didn't know how to open up.

Body art helped

It started with ballpoint pens. I drew on my hands and up my arms, looking back, it resembled Mehndi (henna). I liked the way it looked and I liked the way it occupied my mind.

Doodling on my skin felt like writing in a personal diary. It was my first form of outward self-expression and body art.

The art I penned received compliments, and as a teenager, that was everything I needed. Obviously, I knew I wanted a tattoo... I wanted to be covered in them!

At 15, I was getting the haircuts I wanted. Probably my second form of self-expression, albeit still heavily moderated.

At 19, I started cutting my own hair. The thought of visiting a barber still sends me in a panic. I had my own hair clippers and a mirror. I also had Lady Gaga singing ‘Hair’ on repeat. It's empowering, try it.

Confidence came with cutting my own hair. I started to do more…

My first tattoo

2012 was an exciting year.

I turned 19, I moved out to attend university, I had my first ever boyfriend, I got my first tattoo, and I published my fantasy novel.

On the left of my chest, my star sign (Gemini) and my date of birth in Roman numerals.

I love astrology, and secretly, I always thought my date of birth was cosmically significant.

I still find comfort and insight into life through astrology. Much like when people refer to religious texts while going through difficult times, that’s what horoscopes do for me.

My second tattoo

Around my 20th birthday, I was struggling. I’d been living away from home for a year and I was able to fully express and find myself.

I also went through my first heartbreak. I've been through several since, but it was the first time. Those broken pieces were alive on the inside, turning you into a house of mirrors as all your memories become distorted and you don't like how they make you feel anymore.

I didn't grow up knowing how to deal with problems, especially not gay problems. I guess there lied the problem, I had no gay role models, there was Marc from Ugly Betty, Andrew from Desperate Housewives, and then the contestants of RuPaul’s Drag Race, but no real in-person role models.

So, I dyed my hair, as any self-respecting homosexual would. I bleached it myself. It went orange, of course. I used silver shampoo to tone it, and sure, it went blond-er. After that, it went purple.

It helped, actually. I felt more confident in myself. I was happy, and with it courageous. I wanted another expression of myself.

Being a writer, I wanted something on me to represent that.

I wrote a book when I was 17, a fantasy novel. I self-published it through Kindle at 19, it made around $200. It was the first time I saw any money from my writing. I used it to get a tattoo I designed myself.

Even at 20, I was drawing up my arms, probably procrastinating.

To this day, that tattoo reminds me I can achieve anything I put my mind to.

My third and fourth

Two weeks after my second tattoo, I booked in to get another. It was £50-£60 an hour at the tattoo shop, so with that in mind, I whipped through my tattoo Pinterest board for ideas.

I settled on two small tattoos.

I don’t remember the order I got them in, I was mostly screwing my eyes and nervously laughing to a friend while being told to stay still.

The collar/shoulder area is incredibly ticklish, it felt like someone was scratching at my neck below my Adam's apple.

The Studio Ghibli logo of Totoro from ‘My Neighbor Totoro’, one of my favourite Ghibli films. I had wanted to get Jiji too, the black cat from ‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’, but I’m saving that.

And on the right of my chest, I got a Shakespeare quote from ‘The Tempest’, ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’ – at the time, I think it was a reflection of my mental state, and now I think it’s a reflection on the world.

Six years

The years since my last tattoo.

I’ve wanted another tattoo every day since.

After university at 22, I moved home, and my self-confidence took a hit. I worked a job in a call centre where I spent nearly a year waking up from panic attacks.

It happened again, I was mocked for expressing myself.

I realised I wouldn't survive if I stayed.

So I didn't.

I took the first job I could abroad.

I became an English as a second language (ESL) teacher.

Of course, while doing that, I couldn't get any more tattoos, at least not where I wanted them.

I found pride

In those six years since I've felt a calming buzz of a tattoo gun against my skin, I've found pride.

I attended my first gay pride, it was actually World Pride, hosted in Madrid, Spain. I smeared eyelash glue and pressed loose glitter to my skin. It was empowering, a message to the world, a message I was often quiet around.

The glitter and eyelash glue was a small gesture, some people painted their faces and wore wigs, they embraced creative freedom.

I always feared the immediate backlash of homophobia, but expressing myself and showing the world I was different made me happy.

I'd been missing out on happiness for so long. The internalised homophobia and constant anxiety of not letting people get to know me.

Madrid was like acetone, removing the super glue I'd spent so long sealing myself in with. I found true freedom and pride.

I attended another gay pride in Madrid, finding happiness through a part of my identity I'd allowed people to mock.

My confidence grew considerably, it's hard to believe I was ever ashamed. It's not like it happened overnight, it was a change I chose to make. I chose to leave people and places that had made me unhappy.

It didn't stop at glitter. There were wigs, makeup, and stick-on gems. I was having fun, expressing myself through art, through experiment, and allowing myself the experience I'd craved.

The future

I still have my trusty Pinterest boards as I bide my time and save for a sleeve. I don’t know exactly how it will look, but I know and trust in all the talented tattoo artists out there.

In my mind, there are several elements that go into my perfect sleeve tattoo. They're all the different elements I feel bring me the most joy. There will be references to pandas, orcas, octopuses, more Ghibli characters, and a symbol of pride.

The future is fluid, it could all change. But what won't change is my human need for self-expression.

We are created and moulded by experience, some experiences stick like tattoos, and others are like haircuts and dye jobs, we outgrow them.

So...

Dye your hair. Wear makeup. Get tattoos. Invent reinvention.