Body Modification is Gender Affirming Care
Thanks for reading! Gender and identity are very nuanced topics, and I don’t speak for everyone. This Is just one perspective out of many, and I encourage you to consider a variety of diverse viewpoints as you explore these topics!
It’s a fact: nearly everyone Mods their Bod. To alter our physical forms is to take part in an innately human experience. Whether you are getting tattoos and piercings or painting your nails and dyeing your hair, modifying your external appearance is so common that it’s nearly universal. For some, it is harm reduction. For others, it is a way to connect to the cosmic nature of the universe. Taking steps to make your outside look more like you’d like it to is gender-affirming care by any other name.
Even cisgender/heterosexual people participate in gender-affirming care in this way; think of the folks flying to Turkey for hairline replacement surgery, getting breast augmentation or reductions, losing or gaining weight, or even taking hormones to supplement what their bodies naturally produce. As a Queer person, I take part in modification of my body through medical means as well as through tattoos and piercings. Despite being a well-informed, consenting adult making choices for my own body, I and many other Queer folks face significant hurdles and barriers to accessing the care that we need.
Given how ubiquitous it is for humans to modify their bodies, I find myself wondering why some modifications are acceptable and others are not? Why can some people make modifications to themselves easily and others have to jump through bureaucratic hoops for years to access what they want and need?
The increasingly legalized limits around “medical transition” for Queer folks are arbitrary, harmful, and, frankly, ridiculous. Body modification is one of the oldest human traditions, and it seems silly to me to try and police what grown adults can or cannot do with their meat vessels. Any adult can walk into a tattoo shop and get a random tattoo any day of the week, but Queer folks have to have several letters of approval from doctors and therapists to access largely reversible medical gender-related care. People across history, cultures, and time have been getting tattoos, piercings and other permanent modifications to mark significant life transitions, to connect with their culture and ancestors, to express themselves, to show the passage of time.
I personally have been modifying my body since I was a teenager- dyeing, cutting, and shaving my hair, piercing my ears and nose, and getting tattoos starting from the second I turned 18. Before I had language to describe my gender or how I felt about living in my body, I was taking physical steps to make that body feel more like a home. Now that I’m older and have a better understanding of who I am, I get to continue to modify myself to my liking. It is my right as the inhabitant of a body to have it look the way I’d like it to! Here just a few reasons why I modify my body and why I consider it to be gender-affirming care.
Nobody can take tattoos away from you!
A common criticism of tattoos is that they are permanent. “Are you sure you’ll want to look like that when you’re old? What if you regret them?” I will likely change as I grow and age, and perhaps my taste in little skin pictures will change too. But as a Queer person alive today, I know that my access to gender-affirming care is not promised. Many states are actively outlawing medical transition for Queer folks– not to mention the ways that our healthcare system has already shown itself to be unstable and easily influenced by sociocultural factors such as pandemic and war. It is not unlikely, given the current state of affairs, that I will someday lose access to the hormones that masculinize my appearance. I may be thrown in jail or otherwise removed from life as I know it, depending on which way things go in our country. No matter how bad things get, the tattoos that are already in my skin will remain there as long as I’d like them to. I will be able to look at them whenever I want. By embracing the visual disruption and Queer nature of tattoos, I’m able to signal to the world that I am who I am– unapologetically– and nobody can take that away from me!
2. I can carry who I used to be along with me!
I don’t have a great memory. I rely on my daily morning pages and 1 second a day video diary to help remind me of what I was thinking about and experiencing this time last year, or the one before. I have evolved significantly since I got my first tattoo at 18, and anyone who knew me then would likely not recognize me now if they passed me on the street. I myself sometimes have a hard time remembering who that person was, what they thought and worried about, and who they hoped to be. But I can always look at the tattoos I’ve gotten and be immediately transported to that moment in time– how it felt to choose the design and placement, the meaning behind it (or not), the process of sitting and being altered at someone else’s hand. Folks often document the process of change as they go through gender-affirming processes, and I see tattoos as a sort of living document of the various versions of me. 18 year old me loved the ocean and also wanted to leave it behind, so they got a wave to bring it with them. 19 year old me loved the world and wanted to save it, so they got a poorly-done word to serve as a mantra. I don’t see things the same way as I used to– my goals and values have changed, and I don’t take myself or the little pictures on my skin nearly as seriously these days. But I love having a visible reminder of what used to be important to me, the things I felt deeply enough to have them permanently added to my vessel. Not all my tattoos are very good, or very meaningful, but I embrace their imperfections and cherish them as living memories of who I used to be.
3. Tattoos help me look more like myself!
Since taking intentional steps towards gender-affirming care in other areas of my life, I’ve found that I want to be even more covered in tattoos than ever before. With each new addition, I feel more like myself. Tattoos can be thick or thin, dainty or aggressive. They can make a person look masculine, feminine, robotic, animal, mineral, ethereal, magical, silly, or serious. There is no limit to what your skin can transform into. I like tattoos that make me look strong and silly at the same time. I don’t have any particular style preference– I have color tattoos and black and gray ones, bold lines and fine lines, big and small, script and pictures. My gender is not one thing only and is not easily definable, so I like that my tattoos are the same way. I’m looking forward to a few big pieces; a head tattoo so I can just abandon having hair entirely, a blackwork sleeve of abstract water patterns, a hip piece on my right leg that covers the whole area. I love being able to live in a body that looks like an art exhibit. I love to change myself so I look and feel more me. I can’t wait to be an old tattooed person, saggy skin covered in silly little pictures from 40 years ago. I can’t wait to see what that person is like.
4. Modification is mindfulness!
Getting and healing a tattoo (or piercing, or really any modification) forces you to be present in your body and keeps you grounded there. Like any pain, if you lean in and breathe through, there is great potential for being fully there in the present moment. I most enjoy long tattoo sessions where the pain transforms into a buzzy warmth and I can just sink in, like a hot bath after a long run. If you want your tattoos to look good, you have to take care of them– and given the financial investment of getting them, it is in your best interest to do just that! As a Queer person, sometimes it is difficult to live fully in my body and even harder to motivate myself to take good care of it. After a tattoo, I must be tender and gentle with myself. I have to change how I sleep, sit, wash, and move my body. It brings awareness to new parts of myself and forces me to confront both my good and bad habits. The lingering pain jolts me back to myself as the skin heals. Once the healing process is finished, a process that requires much more time and energy than I typically give to myself, I have a wonderful visual reminder of what my body is capable of doing.
Everyone has the right to modify their body as they see fit. Everyone deserves to feel good about themselves, to mark time passing and changes happening, to create themselves in their own image. Everyone can live their lives covered in art if they want to. Everyone deserves to be exactly who they are. Body modification is a human experience, not just a Queer one, and I want to live in a future where that experience is celebrated rather than stigmatized, and access to what we need is freely available to all.
In solidarity,
Wynter
