Is It Gay Bashing If They Were Right?
“Every fag needs to have a ‘fag’ tattoo,” my tattoo artist Hannes told me during our consultation. Truer words were never spoken.
Growing up I never really experienced overt gay bashing. During junior high school, I do remember people telling me that people were murmuring behind my back. But no one ever confronted me. It wasn’t until college in UCSB where one drunk asshole came up to me and called me a faggot. I kneed him in the chest and left him reeling on the ground. I never was a victim. I never appreciated the gay narrative out there that we were all victims, and I never appreciated it when the gay community embraced this narrative.
So that gives some insight as to why I wanted to get a “fag” tattoo.
Actually what ha-happened was…
Once I settled on coming to Berlin for my vacation, I knew I wanted to get a tattoo while I was there. As I looked for tattoo artists, I had a difficult time connecting to one whose art I would want on my body permanently. They were nice, but I wanted something with edge. And then I found Hannes on the studio’s website. Which, AKA Studios, was founded by a performance artist (RIP JJ). How fucking hot.
Then looking at Hanne’s Insta and website, I knew I found him. Seriously, scrolling through his flash sheet on his site, major fucking hardon.
While I originally intended for just one tattoo, I couldn’t make up my mind. So two tattoos it was.
We had a consultation two days after I landed in Berlin, still jetlagged as hell, but I knew I made the right decision when I saw his bookshelf:
Fuck me.
I decided for a black sun (Coil version) on my left forearm below my Z? tattoo and “fag” on right bicep. While yes, I do want to want to be confrontational, I still have to be a bit professional being an office worker. Although I did flirt with tattooing it on my hand, a rare bout of common sense prevailed. The next week after three hours, here are the final products:
And yes, I’m pinned on Hannes’s Insta page! (I would have just embedded that image, but it wouldn’t center and looked awful when I tried.)
So there it is. As you can tell, it’s still in the process of healing — moisturize, moisturize, moisturize. And my apologies to the Stayery Aparthotel in Friedrichschain where some of the black-inked plasma seeped out from the second skin onto the bedding. But I’m happy as all hell with it.