Tattooing As Media

cross posted from my Media Justice column

As summer begins I am often looking forward to the sun kissing all parts of my skin. I can't wait to visit the beach, which is one of the few spaces I find peace of mind and am reminded that there's so many bigger things out there and that my problems are just a small speck of something larger. In addition to this ritual beach trip and the sun kissing my skin, I know I must prepare for another type of exposure: showing my ink.

As a fat sexologist of Color who is also inked and over six feet tall with a disability, there is often an additional element of awareness that my body is being read by others. This is something that has come up for me since I was 18 years old and began to adorn my body with images, words, and symbols that are meaningful to me. As I've aged, I've continued the journey of using my body as a canvas, it sounds cliché, but it's true! There have been many issues that have come up for me as someone who is getting older and my multiple identities intersecting in various spaces have resulted in extremely diverse interactions with people and amazing opportunities to share and create knowledge.

One of the reasons I chose to write about tattooing, or ink as I like to call it, is because I believe that tattooing is a form of creating media. As someone who started their first ever tattoo with symbols and words, I've had a very interesting path to figuring out why and how I want to choose an image or term and on what part of my body I wish to do so. I know today, that just as I put glitter on my camouflage jacket back in the early 90s, that my tattoos also send a message about who I am, what I wish to represent, and how I choose to move my social justice agenda forward.

I have one large tattoo on my upper left arm, which gets me a lot of attention, especially unwanted attention. I've shared this foto with many readers before but as a refresher here it is (this foto is from the Adipositivity Project, read more about why I chose to be an AdiPoser):



While away on a chosen family emergency in my homeland of Puerto Rico last week, there were many people who approached me and had something to say about my ink, specifically this image. It is an image by artist and sex worker Isis Rodriguez. Her series called "My Life As A Comic Stripper," created in 1997 is where this image, No More! is found. One of the many reasons I chose this piece is because of the amazing detail and thoughtfulness behind the art. Not only does Isis challenge stereotypes about Latina (and women of Color's sexuality) and the dichotomy we are often forced to fit into (i.e. the virgin/whore dichotomy), but she is also discussing a new way of being a responsible sexual being.

Introducing the series "My Life As A Comic Stripper," Isis writes on her website:

"My Life as a Comic Stripper" was a cartoon survey that observed the commercial sex industry in relation to society and ourselves. I used cartoons in the editorial manner commenting satirically on exotic dancers, customers, managers and owners, children toy manufacturers and advertisement. Working as an exotic dancer for over 10 years in most of San Francisco's strip clubs, impacted me as an artist and individual. The strip club was a place where I learned of profound humanity. It was there, that I saw the empowerment, the vulnerability, the rewards, the consequences, the drugs, the exploitation, the determination of everyday people.

The experiences she had as a sex worker and student was one I could relate to on numerous levels. Never had I gone into the sex work industry as an undergraduate, but the fact that I wanted to study sexuality from a sociological and anthropological lens (and not a psychological one that pathologizes people and our choices) there was a huge question of my motivations, goals, desires, and expectations to "make money" in such a field. Under the image No More!, Rodriguez writes:

Be careful what you wish for because that ain't no p*&%y between her legs! How does a woman in this industry become liberated from societal stereotypes and the ridiculous expectations of a sex worker?

When people stare at this image on my body it is often with a certain assumption. It is rarely the intense and thought provoking ideologies that guided Isis when she began working on this project. Often the main people who approach me to ask me about the tattoo are people whom I read their gender identity as men. They often assume it is a sexualized message about what kind of lover I am or the image may represent. They are not ready for the actual message. When people get a closer look it's as if that "ah-ha" moment occurs and they each "get it" whether they wanted to or not. Often they don't want to "get it" and are kind of disappointed they just had to learn something. But that's what they get!

The reactions I often get from people whose gender identity I understand to be women, is different. It is rare when I get a woman who approaches me and has supporting, encouraging and/or affirmative things to say, although it does happen and when it does I know the work I do is important. Often there is teeth sucking, eye rolling, "hmmphs" shared, and judgment in the tone as they ask me "now, what's that supposed to mean?" I wonder why there is such a harsh reaction to something that I find so beautiful and affirming. I'm confused how something so liberating is resulting in such rigid disgust. Then I remember that even if the message I am sharing is constructed and that I want to share it in a particular way, that different people have different perspectives. Another principle in media literacy.

There have been a few instances where I have experienced what I would call street harassment. Now I have to admit that it is not often that I find street harassment to be something that I do not desire. I think the fat thing comes into play when people on the street choose to say something to me about the way I look, and often people who speak to me say specific things that are rarely vulgar or unwanted. For example, I have never been told what a person would want to do to me sexually, or that they find a certain body part that is connected to an oversexualized part attractive/desired. Instead, I often have people from the community comment on my hair, my make up, my jewelry, my smile, the way I walk with confidence (and not fear), and of course my ink. I often simply reply with a "thank you" and keep it moving. Rarely have I ever experienced what filmmaker Nuala Cabral has shared and presented in her film "Walking Home."

With that said, since I have begun to show more skin, The warm weather has always resulted in more eyes on my body reading me. Recently while visiting a friend in Manhattan, a man stood behind me and attempted to take a foto with his iphone without my permission. I can't begin to explain to you all how upset and violent I instantly became when I noticed he was doing this without my permission. I quickly slapped the iphone out of his hands and yelled to him: "If you had asked me I would have allowed you to take a picture now erase it." He was so startled and fumbled with trying not to let his cell phone drop that he obliged to my demand quickly and without comment and left in the opposite direction. While in Puerto Rico last week I had a man approach me on the beach asking permission to take a foto of my ink and I granted him that telling him other people have rarely been as honest and courteous as he was.

Then there are the people who think if I have it out people can look and think what they want. I don't disagree with this ideology, where my concern lies is in such people thinking they have the right to speak to me and share their opinion or thoughts. It sounds harsh, but what do I care what a random stranger may think? What makes people think I care about their opinion about my body? Is it that whole "women are supposed to look a certain way" form of socialization that I'm supposed to care what they think because I should? I'm very privileged to not ever having experienced this in public to feel unsafe. Yet, there have been several times I have felt unsafe when someone is hitting on me in a confined space (i.e. a cab driver). There is also a lot of privilege I have to be inked and have that ink in places where others can see and still keep a job in a certain environment.

How many of your professors have ink? Have you seen their ink? I have double digits and I can hide a majority of those pieces, but not all of them. It is rare when I think that because I have a visible tattoo I may not get a job. It is also rare that I worry that if I show my ink I may risk losing my job. And if you don't remember I work at a private Catholic college in the Bronx. Privilege, I have a lot of it!

I asked all my followers on Twitter to tell me their tattoo stories, why they chose the ink they did, what they hope to gain from the experience, and how they see the symbolism and messaging of their ink. I did not get into details about their experiences getting the ink or how they chose to pay for it (which is also a form of privilege) and how they found artists they appreciate. My artist is Louis Barak, a Moroccan Jew from Chicago whom I met in NYC and has a degree in fine art. I immediately fell in love with him when I realized he knew the color wheel and what colors would look amazing together!

My homegirl PazEnLaVida, who is currently crafting her first tattoo, shared that she was getting something that represented her radical woman of Colorness. She said she wanted "either an eagle or a snake. I want to get it on my arm. I want it because I want to mark my body with something that represents who I am. It's something I'm doing for me. To love my identity and link to my community."

My friend PostModernSexGeek shared that her tattoo on her back is the "image/representation of Coatlicue. To remind me of where I came from but also to remind me that I am powerful in my own life. The message for others? Here be Goddess energy, Proceed with caution ;-)"

My other homegirl Bianca, a tattoo enthusiast who is engaged to a tattoo artist, shared that her first tattoo was one that she wanted to mark a "coming of age" on her 16th birthday. Her second was a matching tattoo she got with her high school best friend and her third marked a change in her life. This third tattoo was during a time when she "had gone thru a really bad depression the year I graduated high school. I got the tat to symbolize the pain I overcame. When I added to it, I was closing a chapter in my life & starting new."

For me, when I got this arm tattoo it was in the winter. I knew that I wanted to show it off that following summer and it was one of the many ways I began to appreciate my body. Before getting inked there I did not expose my upper arms thinking they were far too fat and unattractive to expose. When the summer came and I knew I had this ink on my body all of that went away. I was proud of what I looked like, how my body moved and what I felt like when the sun kissed it as it was exposed with no clothing covering it. I was sending messages of appreciating and loving my body and people noticed.

I've had this experience before with other tattoos that I have. For example, since having my disability I've also gotten tattoos that are in the area of my disability and that are representative of the pain and stigma I survive daily. In addition, I've inherited what I call "skin tags" from my father. These are small pieces of skin that form extensions of skin off my body and that are attached to a blood vessel. I have them all over my body and one large one at the back of my neck in the center. I chose to have an image of the Mujer de Caguana, the goddess who is believed to have birthed all the people in the Caribbean (which is why she is squatting in a amphibian like position). I asked that the skin tag be positioned in between her legs to act as either an enlarged clitoris or a penis. I like the idea of having her be a gender-bending goddess. I also like that my hair can cover it and I can share this image when I chose to. It was one way I chose to come to terms with having my skin tags and it has worked!

Although my parents constantly tell me that this was probably the "worst decision I've ever made in my life" (I'm glad that dedicating my life to a sex-positive agenda is not the first one!), I'm happy with the person I've become and the media I continue to make. I do know that there are people who may not see their ink as a form of media, yet I think for many of the people I know and the artists I've worked with it is media, it is art, and, as a past lover has said, art is evolving life. I evolve through my media and my media that is with me wherever I go is my ink.

I've written in the past on things to consider and how to prepare for new ink especially as a way for surviving and healing scars on our body. To read that article, click here. If you are inked, or if you aren't, what are your thoughts about consenting to wearing media on our bodies forever?

Please Be Advised: Latina Sexuality

I realize that sometimes I go off on tangents in some posts. For this one here are the things I’d like to convey: there are Latino sexologists in the US, I believe Latina Magazine has reinforced virgin/whore dichotomy by hiring an adult film star as their resident sexual advice columnist, I support AnnMarie as a sex worker, Latina and professional; I think there may be areas in sexuality that may not be accurately or appropriately addressed in this column.

I have a free subscription to Latina Magazine. I was glad that my subscription included the two issues where LatiNegra’s were on the cover (Sessilee Lopez March 2009 y Zoe Saldana for the June/July 2009 covers). It’s not often we see ourselves in all our Blackness and Browness on the cover of magazines that also recognize our ethnicity. Yet, I’ll admit there are other magazines I’d rather dish out $6 a month on, and do happily, then Latina. There is a part of my identity that is not represented through their magazine. You see I identify as a Caribbean woman, a LatiNegra, an Afro-Puerto Rican, activist, educator, mentor, radical woman of Color, scholar, sexologist, fat, lover, and working class. These are parts of my identities that many forms of media, including Latina Magazine, have ignored.

As many magazines do, Latina has a column for advice called “Delores Dices.” There have been plenty of times when I disagreed with the advice given to women regarding relationships, sexuality, sexual health, pleasure, and intimacy. As a trained sexologist, I know that advice columns are good places to start, but they can’t answer all of our questions, or really get to the multiple factors that may come up in certain questions/situations. So, this is a concern I usually have in general with many advice columns, especially those targeted towards reaching people of Color.

Almost two weeks ago my friend and colleague Andrea Plaid sent a tweet that said something to the effect of (and I paraphrase) Latina Magazine hires porn star for new sexuality advice column called Between The Sheets. I clicked on the link and was directed to the story. A picture of a young light skinned slim Latina with brown straight hair greeted me in her pink lingerie. She looked familiar and I scrolled down to read the story. I realized that I recognize AnnMarie because she has been in adult films and I am not ashamed to say that I watch porn!

I “retweeted” the story Andrea sent with the statement “because there are no Latina sexologists.” As twitter is known to work, the story was retweeted from my end and Andrea’s end. My homegirls authors, poets, and media makers Sofia Quintero aka Black Artemis and Maegan La Mamita Mala Ortiz both responded to me. We had an interesting discussion about the choice Latina Magazine had made. They encouraged me to send Latina Magazine my credentials, to write to them, or seriously consider publishing a book!

I’ve thought about this for some time. I went back to the story and saw there were only four comments about the interview with AnnMarie and the new column. The positions were pretty dichotomous; either the idea was loved or hated. My first reaction was hurt.

Why is it that we women, women of Color hurt each other more than anybody else?

I was/am hurt because I know that there are multiple ways to send messages. That Latina Magazine has power in our community with many of our members. How could they not find sexologists in our community? Did they not find my website or the website of others in the field? I’ve shared that one of the things I long for is to be respected and acknowledged as the professional in the field that I am! It’s been a struggle; seasoned sexologists have dismissed me because of my age, ethnicity, or size (to name a few). To see Latina Magazine make a decision that ignored me, us, was the sting that led me to write this post. In writing this I had to move through that selfish space I was at and look at the situation from multiple/collective perspectives.

What message is Latina Magazine sending us when they hire a young Latina in the adult industry to lead a column on sex advice? What happens to the conversations about the sociological, psychological, anthropological, affects upon sexuality? What about when topics such as immigration, rape, incest, domestic violence, abortion, miscarriage (and the D&C that may follow), building relationships and having sex after such experiences come up? Is Latina Magazine setting AnnMarie up for failure? Sexuality is far beyond the act of sex, or of exchanging bodily. The exchange of power, energy, consent, accountability, responsibility, and history is what sexuality also includes (again to name a few).

We, as women of Color and/or Latinas, are placed in and struggle with this “virgin/whore dichotomy.” Latina Magazine, in my opinion, has approached the topic of sexuality and sexual health from within this paradigm. They are reinforcing this ideology as opposed to challenging it or moving beyond it to recreate something new. It’s kind of like using the word “machismo” which has erroneously been coined to affect our men exclusively when really this is a phenomenon in every ethnic community. Latinos don’t hold the copyright to machismo! Yet when we use such ideas and terms we reinforce the existence and misdirected importance. I believe this has happened here with the “virgin/whore dichotomy.” Is it possible to “work from the inside out” to create a change in a dichotomy that generations of people (not just Latinos) have been socialized to believe about us?

I also wonder: Why didn’t Latina Magazine go to the source of such imagery and ask Vanessa del Rio?

There is also a reinforcement of what is expected to be feminine, “sexy,” and labeled Latina. I believe there are more of us that fall outside their expectations than those that meet them. Is the idea that because AnnMarie fits a standard of beauty that is shared by White communities in the US, she will reach more people? Is there an idea that AnnMarie is a safe choice because of her background and profession without regard for her sustainability in the field?

As a result, I think that AnnMarie will not find the support and respect she has earned and deserved as a successful Latina in the sexuality field, and I know all too well how this feels and would not wish this situation on anyone. My fear of this occurring to AnnMarie has already begun. Her expertise is being questioned (which I believe is appropriate to an extent), her character is being disrespected because she is a sex worker (which is juvenile), and people are already dismissing her (which cancels out Latina Magazine’s efforts right?).

I’d like to make this very clear: I’m on AnnMarie’s side! I hope she gives Latina Magazine what they are looking for 100 times over! She’s Latina, a sex worker, and I’ve got her back! I’m not going to play into some hierarchy of “traditionally educated” Latina versus “sex worker” Latina (because many sex workers have degrees, are more than just their job, kinda like you, and are intelligent business people). I’ve worked in the different sectors of the sex work industry and know it’s hard work!

Plus, it’s kind of a tired space to occupy. It’s been done over and over and is still being done. I can’t tell you how many times a woman of Color, a Latina, has used her power over me to keep me below her because she thinks she’s better than me, all because I focus on sexuality. I’m not better than AnnMarie, I just have a different skill set and different approach to discussing our sexuality (I do think my hair is more fun than hers, but that’s another post for another time). Both of our approaches are needed, they work for different communities and together we reach more people who need support and guidance than if we were not doing this work at all.

AnnMarie can probably reach the community I cannot. I can probably get membership into certain groups that she can’t. We are not working against one another; we can very much work together!

I am a sex worker. I work in sex. My form of sex work is not better than or more important than AnnMarie’s. I think I’ve got a lot to learn from AnnMarie about business and I’m sure I can mentor her in some things as well. I’ve devoted over a decade (and the rest of my life) to the field of sexuality and sexual science. During this time, I’ve realized there are not enough people of Color in our field. Granted, it is not the highest paying field to be a part of, but it is one where people have been extremely dedicated and committed. I hope AnnMarie’s column in Latina Magazine helps other Latinos and communities of Color realize this is real work and there’s a lot of work to be done! We need more sexuality educators, counselors, therapists, and professionals trained in the field! We need more now! Learn how to become one.

If AnnMarie is reading this: Know that I hope you create the space and messages YOU want to create for our community without being told what is or is not acceptable. If you need guidance, support, mentorship, or a second opinion you can reach out to me, this work is needed.

You may also follow AnnMarie on twitter.

Femme-Macho & Virgin-Whore Dichotomy circa 2004

I enjoy looking back at what I wrote in my blog over these past 5 years. There's a lot of growth that I can see and there is also a lot of similarities that I see remaining. This is exciting for me. I started writing online in 2004. Here's one of the first entries I ever published. Lots of ideas here; kind of incoherent at times, but important thought processes occurring.

Virgin/Whore Dichotomy?!

why am i and my latina homegirls plagued by the virgin/whore dichotomy!? why must we be seen as either sex feigns or virginal? what about women who buy into this only to say "i'm neither, i'm in the middle"? am i really a femme-macho for now. don't know what that is? check out aida hurtado's the color of privilege three blasphemies on race and feminism. hurtado defines a femme-macho as one who: unlike the virgin or the whore, can either be attractive or unattractive. A strong personality is what characterizes her. The strength of the femme-macho does not lie in her racial/physical appearance but, rather, on remaining emotionally uninvolved though sexually active.

The man’s challenge is to deflower the femme-macho emotionally. "The femme-macho can be sarcastic, funny, outrageous, aggressive, mean, or belligerent, but she cannot be tender, loving (except in a political or abstract sense), frightened, or insecure (p. 50-51). This description is in some ways liberating and in others restricting. A woman who chooses not to give up her ability to enjoy herself sexually, can only do so at the cost of not experiencing an emotional relationship with her partner(s).

The issue of fluidity comes into play when Hurtado states that the “femme-macho also plays with the notion of bisexuality” (p. 51). Identities such as bisexuality have not been discussed in Latina feminist literature, or queer literature, as much as lesbianism has. Hurtado used her discussion of femme-machos to discuss lesbianism in the Chicano community. In Gloria Anzaldúa’s book Borderland/La Frontera, she discusses her perspectives on the Chicano community and her lesbianism. Anzaldúa writes “I made the choice to be queer (for some it is genetically inherent)” (emphasis Anzaldúa’s) (p. 41). Her statement to be queer speaks to her conscious decision to challenge stereotypes about women and the relationships they are capable of having and their positioning on the hierarchy Hurtado discusses.

Emma Pérez writes that the “arguments that men pass down to white women are passed down to us. We are forced to address issues as they define them, not as we define them. Our work reconstructs as much as it has always deconstructed the white-male order and white-feminist assumptions about women of color” (1991, p. 161). If anything, the virgin/whore dichotomy is not a Latino construct, it is a white one, along with ideas of machismo and Marianismo. The theories are backwards.

In Puerto Rico, traditional sexuality and relationship formation does not mean sexual oppression, traditional means historically known, autonomous, liberated sexuality, and oppressive and rigid sexuality and relationship formation is historically known to be a construction of colonizer’s “white” sexuality. The idea that Puerto Rican women, when sexually active, having more than one partner in their lifetime, and cohabitating with a partner, is not a result of acculturation to US society, but is actually a result of historical “traditional” Puerto Rican ways of living, loving and creating social support systems.

Attempts all racial/ethnic researchers, scholars, authors and others make to identify Latinas, especially Puerto Rican women’s, sexuality and relationships as dichotomous in a virgin/whore situation is inaccurate. I perceive this attempt to be a “new” and “modern” form of colonization of Puerto Rican women. Neocolonization doesn’t occur too far from “home,” and this example of Puerto Rico demonstrates that point.

I believe that it is appropriate to end this paper with a quote by Anzaldua. In her section “somos una gente” (we are one) she writes “I think we need to allow whites to be our allies…They will come to see that they are not helping us but following our lead” (p. 107). What is currently considered “liberated” white acculturated sexuality does not help Puerto Rican women and some Latinas, it is Puerto Rican women and Latinas helping liberate white sexuality.

I would rely on the memory of my mother telling me that I should live with a man for at least one year before marrying him. When I asked her why she said that, she responded that it was something she wished she had done before marrying my father (they have been separated for 10 years), that people change and that I will change and that I have to be aware and prepared for those changes before I get married and/or choose to share my life with someone.

Clearly, my Puerto Rican mother supports cohabitation and advocates it, she uses her own experiences to guide me towards a better understanding of my relationships and sexuality in hopes that I come to realizations about who I am and what I want, deserve, desire and need before I make life changing commitments. I believe this is her guiding me to creating and achieving what Chela Sandoval calls “revolutionary love.” June 8, 2004: 7:13 pm