On Bodies and Permanency
They're all ours.
I’ve never gotten a tattoo. I’m not against them. They’re cool as hell. They’re beautiful and thought-provoking. And also more than a little anxiety-inducing.
Every time I’ve thought about it and want to take the plunge, the permanency holds me back. I don’t want to risk being stuck with an emotional response to something I can’t really take back. Not completely, anyway.
Why should that be scary? I don’t really know. I’m just not ready to put ink into my skin, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be.
So, no tattoos. And only just a piercing in each ear. I’ve never even dyed my hair.
Just about all my friends have tattoos, and the ink works for them. They look great. But even if I thought they looked awful, it’s not for me to point out or control or debate.
Because it’s not my body. It doesn’t affect me. They have agency, and they used it. I celebrate that.
There’s an irony I can’t ignore here. I’m a proud trans woman who has elected to transform much of my body through surgery.
(To be clear, being a trans person doesn’t necessarily mean one gets surgery or even hormones. For various reasons, uninsured medical costs being the most common, many trans people don’t get medical procedures.)
That doesn’t scare me any more than any given routine surgery might. Hell, I was even nervous before getting out my wisdom teeth. When that medical professional puts a mask on you or lines up a knock-out IV, the loss of control can be unsettling.
But the permanency of changing my body to look more in line with what my brain has fantasized about since I was a young closeted trans girl? It doesn’t bother me a bit.
Somehow, getting a simple tattoo has become a years-long internal struggle that remains to be resolved, and yet, the thought of remaking my body and looking in the mirror when it’s all done brings me peace and more than a little happiness.
These are our bodies, and they die with us.
Apart from bits and pieces generously offered to the collection plate, they are non-transferable.
There are no second-hand bodies. There are no corporeal family heirlooms.
Your great-great-grandchild will never be found with a cup of coffee and your countenance in the living room, telling her next-door neighbor:
"Yes, thank you, we've had that body in the family for centuries. Took it to a shop to get the cracks sealed. Wonderfully preserved, no?"
We can't put them into the recycle bin for conversion into shoes and placemats and single-use bottles of water.
They can't be kept in original packaging and sold on eBay to an enthusiastic collector.
Donate your body to a hospital, but no wandering soul is gonna hop into it like a stranded person discovering an old beater on the side of the road that just needed a new starter.
These are our bodies. They are clay that will cease to be clay only when you--and you alone--have ceased breathing.
Molding it into whatever the hell you want it to be.
And after you've given your last breath, your body will never take another, and yet, they're warm and soft and breathing right now.
Imagine your luck, to be alive and have this clay in your hands and agency, all at the same time.
What a waste not to do with it as you like.
Hi, I’m Charlotte Clymer, and this is my Substack. It’s completely free to access and read, but if you feel so moved to support my writing, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription: just $7/month or save money with the $70/annual sub. You can also go way above and beyond by becoming a Founding Member at $210.
You can also follow my work on Twitter.
Thank you, Charlotte, for sharing. I’m trans and I have very similar feelings in that regard. I had no problem or worry about undergoing trans procedures or surgeries. But I’ve not been able to bring myself to get a tattoo or any unusual piercings, even though I often admire them on other people. I used to dye my hair, but nothing out of the ordinary. And I now actively choose to rock it gray.
I hear you about the tattoos. A lot of my family and friends have tattoos but I've never been able to find a design that I felt I could live with for the rest of my life. Hair color? Sure. I can change that any time. For a while I dyed it blonde like what I had when I was in high school. Lately I've been dying it red in honor of my Irish ancestors, plus everyone says it looks like my natural color. I did get my ears pierced when I was in high school but that's it. Bottom line, do what makes you happy.