My son called me from college the other day and asked if it was OK for him to get a tattoo. “Dad, it is only going to be on my back and no one will be able to see it,” he said. “Besides, in my profession, tattoos aren’t a problem.”
He is in school to become a chef but he has always been a persuasive pro at cooking up the answers that he wants to hear. This one needs to sauté just a little longer.
We adults have lived his past and he needs to see his future in us. Some people, especially the youngsters, think that body art, which are the studs and tattoos with which some people adorn themselves, look good on them — now. Some of it may. But, what will they look like in the future when the ‘tatts’ begin to fade and the skin begins to sag? Or even, and more importantly, what does it look like to their perspective employers?
On a cool autumn evening, I sat outside of Frankie’s Doughnuts on Portage Road and had a cup of coffee and a good conversation with one of their young patrons. He was rightfully complaining about the lack of employment opportunities in the city. I commented on his tattoos and asked him if they ever interfered with his employment. He admitted that he had worked for two of the city’s major employers, that he had his sleeves rolled up with his tattoos showing on more than one occasion at each place, was subsequently disciplined and eventually released. While you do have the right to ink yourself up as much as you would like, employers still have no obligation to hire and keep you.
There may come a time that body art reaches universal acceptability. Who knows? But, for now, our constitution protects “printers’ ink”, and not “body ink.” And as I cannot require anyone to read this column, no employer is required to either interpret or put up with your body art. Until employers are, how many opportunities are you sinking because of an hour or so of your short-term thinking and a lifetime of your permanent inking? How much is it worth to you?
My son wants a discreet tattoo on his back. Perhaps he will consider my compromise. While many readers know that I served several hitches in the Navy, what most people don’t know is that this old sailor also has a discreet piercing and a discreet tattoo.
My Naval service begin during the Vietnam War — a time when sailors celebrated a long legacy of going out with loose women, getting drunk and returning to their ships stinky, drinky and inky. However, it was a time when African Americans shunned the inky part.
My job was topside in the Combat Information Center. Of the 300 or so crew members, only a handful of non-whites had jobs like mine. As a result, not only did I learn to enjoy country/western music and rock and roll, but I also went on liberty with the group of sailors with whom I shared both the work and sleeping spaces. But I also enjoyed spending equal amounts of time partying with the other brothers.
Some of my white shipmates were getting tattoos, and they encouraged me to adorn my forearm likewise. Not wanting to be offensive by not getting one, while at the same time not wanting to offend my black shipmates by so doing, I compromised.
I got the tattoo — but I had it done in brown ink!
Well, not really. Good sense and a fear of needles precluded any tattooing. But, I just love telling that story.
I am not discouraging body art, though a clean slate is more versatile than a used one. I just recommend that if you must, then use extreme moderation. You want to be in employment, and not in-your-face!
As for my son? Well, I appreciate his respect for at least asking.
Ken Hamilton is a Niagara Falls resident. His columns run Fridays in the Gazette. He welcomes feedback at Ken Hamilton930@aol.com.
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