Tattoos & piercings

Tattoos and piercings mean more than cosmetic change to me.

Body modifications have become a decisive way of reclaiming my own body. A claim to what’s always been mine, yet so many thought was theirs.

Every needle point on my skin is a message.

To the boyfriend who felt entitled to my body because we were dating, because I was his. The one who would switch the lights on and off to keep me from sleeping until I surrendered.

To the assholes who grabbed my ass or pushed me against a wall in a loud bar because they assumed I wore that dress for them. Yes, I look hot; yes it’s short; no you’ll never know what I’m like without it.

To the many who think they should get to decide what I do with my own body, because they love me, because they made me, because they’re men.

To them, every tattoo and piercing I get is a fuck you.

This isn’t the body you thought was yours.

This is a new skin.

One I made for myself.

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