Scarface

When you think of body art, you might be drawn to think about elaborate tattoos wrapping around your arm, a dragon, a tribal pattern, a random pink dinosaur (I actually saw someone with a tattoo of a pink brontosaurus, I was like WTF! But hey, each to their own). In essence the body in which we are born in, is an empty canvas, ready and perfectly made for you to accessorize however you so choose to. You could compliment it with those gold bangles, or maybe a noise ring (which I find quite attractive), you can get quirky and go all out.

As human being we immediately notice anything that stands out from the God given attributes he has blessed us with. No one is born with ear rings, or scars or marks (generally), let alone fresh ink, (when was the last time you saw a baby ink’d up?). And it is for that reason that deviations from the norm stand out so much. It is an expression of self, identity, and a way to illustrate to the outside world what lies within.

I haven’t yet gotten my self ink’d, because I’m a bit of an overthinker, thou it is something I’ve always wanted to do. Rest assured I have come up with many tattoo ideas over the years, putting pen to paper, but not ink to skin. I always give it deep thought, as it is one of those things that isn’t easily reversible, it’s basically a life commitment, and I wouldn’t want a tattoo that is a life sentence. It is something people will always see when I expose my bare skin, and it will inspire people to think of me in a certain way, whichever way they so choose to do so. It will stand for something; it will have a meaning. It is not necessarily important what others think of me for it, but most importantly it’s the meaning it will hold and represent to me, the person wearing it. I think those who get a loved one’s face or name tattooed on them is one of the ultimate expressions of love, it’s like saying I gave my body to you, a messiah like expression, a real-life interpretation of ‘wearing your heart on you sleeve’ or you back, or shoulder… (I can keep naming body parts here, but you get the point). So, thou it may be that I continue overthinking, and not actually get anything done, my canvas is ready for whatever symbolic master piece I so choose to painstakingly imprint in it.

In my early 20s however, I got a permanent imprint that shall stick with me most likely for the rest of my life. In a fight, a guy picked up a cup and shattered it at the side of my left temple, I didn’t notice it then, but I was left with an everlasting memorandum of that day. Where I was struck, a gaping hole was formed, big enough to slot in a couple of peas, the adrenaline at the moment didn’t let me feel it, but once I got a good look in the mirror, I was a little peed off. I had to get more than 7 stiches to close to the hole and stop the bleeding. (Just in case your wondering, I won that fight, but lost my perfectly unblemished face.)

I remember the weeks and months after the incident, every time I looked in the mirror, there it was, the reminder. My family members would assure me it didn’t look that bad, but to me, it was hard to experience this new unwanted feature on my face. It took time to adjust to looking different, I mean it had been 20 something years of looking the same, now it looked different, no matter how small it was, I just wanted it gone. Its kind of like putting a grain of rice atop a black A4 paper, yea, it’s just a grain, but it stands out profusely. I guess because I focused on it so much, in my eyes, I magnified it. It looked so unsightly to me, like a small scratch running down the side of the paint work of your brand-new car. I know I sound vain about it, but the struggle was real.

With time I got accustomed to it, and found new meaning too. I wasn’t damaged, I was improved. Something tried to break me, but I stood tall. The attack wasn’t enough to take me out. The scar in the left side of my brow speaks of resilience, and demonstrate the strength of the human spirit, it speaks out loud about the power and wonder of healing. I’m not saying I’m looking to add more scars to my count (and I actually got a few), but mine speak of a victory story, as I’m sure it does for so many people out there who are brandishing both physical and emotional scars.

So, to me, I look at my scars as body art, differentiating me from others and storytelling out loud for all onlookers about the plights, the struggles, and most importantly the wins that I have faced during my life. I have come to like them and the uniqueness it creates for me. Art is the creation and expression of imagination in humans in all its many forms, and here is the important part, for the appreciation of its beauty and emotional power in others, including self. Therefore, body art should inspire just that, that scar that I for so long found ugly, I now see the beauty in it, and I think when others notice, it sparks a thought in their brain, ‘what happened?’. The same way a beautiful peacock tattoo piece on someone’s thighs might make you wonder and admire the sheer beauty the lines creates. Hopefully I end up putting those tattoo ideas I have into flesh, nature has given us the canvas, and beautiful as it is on it own, there’s nothing stopping us from adorning it further. Until then I’ll just proudly parade my scar piece. (yes, you may call me Scarface.)