TATTOOS, COUNTER-CULTURE
& GENDER

Sharon Lynn (she/they)

I grew up in the ‘90s and ‘00s during the rapid growth in popularity of tattoos in mainstream media. Today, it is estimated that at least 30% of American millennials have at least one tattoo (I wouldn’t be surprised if it were more). There’s no doubt that tattoos will always be rooted in counterculture. But, now that they are so commonplace, some may question if they can still be considered counterculture. Some folks in younger generations may feel that having no tattoos is more rebellious now.

So, are tattoos still counterculture? The lens that society has viewed tattoos through has shifted dramatically throughout the ages. With substantial evidence, history shows us that tattooing skin is, in fact, an ancient practice. The oldest naturally preserved ice mummy, Otzi, was carbon dated somewhere around 3300 BCE and wore 61 tattooed marks in his skin.  

In ancient Egypt women of all classes would decorate their bodies with patterns and symbols of fertility and protection. Most, if not all, indigenous cultures practiced tattooing and forms of body modification for spiritual identity, protection, family/tribe/community status, for medicinal purpose, coming of age or notable bravery or life achievements. The European conquest and spread of white, puritanical Christian ideologies deemed tattoos to be unholy and savage. The Christian woman has expectations to be pure, modest and subservient to men. Thus, all others were not pure or modest so racism and sexism grew roots into tattoo culture.  

The early days of western tattooing were done with techniques brought to America by the British but originating with the Polynesians. It's sad to note that while European settlers demonized Indigenous Americans for their tattoos, they eventually went on to “borrow” tattoo styles and techniques from different indigenous cultures around the world. Carrying on from the late 1800s into the early 1900s, soldiers, sailors and working-class men began to sport tattoos in the states. It was considered “manly.” 

Meanwhile, tattooed women were restricted to circus life. People would pay to see them. Sadly, many of these tattooed, side-show women had elaborate, often fictional stories of being kidnapped, tortured and branded by “Indians,” thus starting their journey of collecting tattoos. America’s first known white female tattoo artist, Maud Steven Wagner, was a traveling circus performer who was taught to tattoo in the 1920s by her husband, Gus Wagner. For several decades, most of (the few) female tattoo-ers only gained access to the growing industry by their tattoo-er husbands. 

By the ‘60s, most major cities in the U.S had outlawed tattoo shops, pushing the trade further into the underground. But, the sexual revolution was paving the way for women to reclaim ownership of their bodies. Tattoos are empowering and getting one can feel like the ultimate act of liberation. Still, even as more and more women began to wear tattoos, the industry as a whole was primarily a straight white man’s territory. There may have only been only a handful of female tattoo artists by the ‘70s. One woman to note: despite multiple layers of discrimination against her, Jacci Gresham became known to America as the first black female tattoo artist in ‘72. She’s still tattooing today and owns the oldest running tattoo establishment in New Orleans. By the ‘80s, the outlaw biker influence was still on top of the western tattoo scenes in many rural areas, whereas metropolitan cities were booming with money, art and culture. Tattoos were becoming more and more of a statement. It was only a matter of time that it made its way full force into the entertainment industry.

Whether one openly admits it or not, we are intrigued or moved a certain way by seeing others living wildly different lives from our own. This is the exact reason why reality TV became so successful. In the '90s and early 2000s, tattoo bans were lifted across the U.S. and tattoo shops began popping up all over the country. A new age of tattoo artists began to enter the industry, and more than ever tattooing became celebrated as an actual art form. I remember collecting tattoo magazines as a kid and fantasizing about having my own one day. 

I’m a multiracial, queer artist who has been tattooing for about 13 years now. The term counterculture has never scared me. Throughout my life I’ve always felt a sort of open invitation to it. I think anyone who has ever felt like an outsider or misfit to society has found comfort in the word. It just meant that where you don’t fit in, there are alternative communities that would accept you for who you are. At least I think that’s what we all hope for. I grew up in a mixed race, mostly catholic family in northern New Jersey. My grandmother was born and raised in Vietnam. My grandfather was in the military and my dad was a war baby, born in Da Nang. I think the religious, military and Asian cultures all contributed to my dad’s dislike for tattoos. I was always being told in the presence of tattoos, “You’ll never do that to yourself right?” 

I often felt like being a girl was like a curse. Having so many restrictions and rules. I never liked being told, “Girls don’t do that.” Not being allowed to do the same things my brother did made me wish I were a boy. Being told how to dress, how to be “lady-like” led to me dressing like a boy up to my teens. I grew to resent my gender, and at the same time suppress my queerness. It was easy for an emotional kid like me to latch onto art. It was an escape to a place where it did not matter if I fit in or not.  The movie, “Who framed Roger Rabbit?” was down right mind blowing to me. To witness the void of creative limitations, I was captivated. I had a similar feeling to my first exposure to large scale tattoo work. Like, Woah you can decorate skin too?  

From the age of about 4-6, my Aunt dated then married a man who happen to be the son of a local legendary tattoo-er, Jersey Phil. I will never forget his epic back piece — done by his father — of a castle fully equipped with a wizard, a dragon or two and lots of lightning. Later in my adolescence, I had a babysitter who became a close family friend — basically a sister — named Rain. Her and I shared a love for the alt scene and bonded through music, alt fashion and eventually started piercing each other's ears and faces in our teens. I would draw all over her with markers and she would tell me all the time that I would grow up to make a “sick tattoo artist one day.”  An alternative career in art where I could freely express myself? It seemed like the obvious choice over the stressful thought of going to art school (which I never felt cut out for). Although my mom always supported my choice to pursue tattooing as a career, my dad and many other family members would add, “but, you’re still going to go to college and get a real job, right?”

My personal experience in the tattoo industry is one many women and queers have shared. Seeing so many female models in tattoo magazines and the infamous Suicide Girls of the ‘00s, it hadn’t occurred to me the lack of gender or racial diversity in the tattoo industry until I started trying to get my foot in the door. It was made clear right away that my gender was going to be an obstacle.  

My first ever portfolio showing to a local tattoo shop was rough, but just the spark I needed to start my flame. This tall skinny biker-looking dude was not at all interested in my “shitty anime drawings.”  Him, along with several other local tattoo shop owners would say it right to my 18-year-old face that I should expect a hard time in this industry. That, It’s a man’s world, little girl!” Or, “Chicks gotta have tough skin to make it in this industry.”  My inner rebel has always had this, “I’ll show you MF” kind of attitude about it. They were not wrong though and gave me fair warning of what the next decade would be for me.  

In my late teens, it was still mostly frowned upon for women to participate in body art. Older strangers were inclined to say to me, “Now why would you go and ruin such beautiful skin?” Just as I was turned away by tattoo shops for being a girl, it has also been what got me hired or commissioned. 

Coincidentally, the same year that I did finally score a tattoo apprenticeship was also the same year Kat Von D launched her own reality show, “L.A. Ink,” in ‘07. This was a pivotal moment for women in tattoo, whether some like to admit it or not. It didn’t help the over sexualization of women, but suddenly every shop now needed a token female artist. Reality TV and competition shows like “Ink Master,” “Tattoo Nightmares,” and “Black Ink Crew” boosted the popularity of tattoos in modern society. I knew there were more diverse shops and communities out there, but had a tough time finding my own niche. 

Sharon Lynn (she/they) is from New Jersey, based now in Louisville KY. They love their partner, cats, & dogs. She’s been an artist her whole life, but tattooing for 13 years. They work with amazing people at Mama Tried Tattoo, but will be pursuing their own studio this summer. Find her work @sharonlynn_arts.