Cancer survivor, English professor, mother, Christian and tattoo addict

I am a cancer survivor, English professor, mother, Christian, and tattoo addict.

I got my first tattoo when I was 16. When I was getting chemotherapy, I asked my father if, when I finished, I could get a tattoo. He said yes, if the oncologist said it was OK – believing the oncologist would back him with a no. Instead, we all ended up at a small tattoo parlor near the Children’s Hospital, getting a small butterfly on my ankle. It was my transition tattoo; just as caterpillars become beautiful butterflies, I had beaten cancer and come out the other side changed. I was the butterfly. That was just the start.

Being through something so life changing, so very young, makes you grow up very fast. For my entire young adult life, I felt out of place. I didn’t do the partying thing – as a matter of fact, I made it through high school without attending a single party or having a single underage drink. I had learned the very hard way that the body is a very special organ and needs to be treated correctly to run efficiently. I also felt old because when I looked at my friends drinking and smoking, I felt sorry that they did not see the end result was what I had just went through for no reason at all. I did not like the fact that so many people I knew, and people around me that I didn’t, took so little care – they invited cancer into their bodies willingly, on a daily basis, but tattoos – that was wrong, according to them.

Upon graduating high school, and then college – summa cum laude (apparently tattoos
do not damage your IQ score), I went to Ireland to help a church start up. While I was there, I decided this moment in time needed to be permanently recorded, too. It was special to me. I had changed again, from a young adult, under her parents' wings, to a new person, in a new country, starting a new church, as my own person. So I added to my tattoo. I added the trinity. I figured, being in Ireland, the tattoo should be Irish in format and show why I was there, what my beliefs are. So, now I had two tattoos.

When I came home from Ireland, and got my first teaching job, I learned very quickly that the world looks upon people with tattoos differently than they do people without them. Now, I am teaching college. My students are young adults -- they are on the cusp of becoming their own beings, stepping out from under their parents' wings. I have a great rapport with my students. They come to me with everything; I know of their trials and tribulations, their life issues, things they would never share with most other adults. I firmly believe this is because of my ink. They know I will not judge them; I love each and every one of them. I have walked them through abortions, miscarriages, cancer, and death. Things most other professors have no clue are going on in their student’s lives. This because I have an open heart and mind, and I think they see this because of the tattoos.

I now have six tattoos, each representing a change or important moment in my life (the birth of my son, the death of my grandfather, the expression of my faith -- in more than one way). People look at me differently when I have them on display than when I do not. I can be out and about in a nice dress with no tattoos showing and get excellent service at stores; I can return to the same store in shorts and a shirt with tattoos on display and get followed as if I am a shoplifter, not a valued customer. This is just wrong. It is a new form of prejudice, one that people do not want to address or admit they even have.

I have inked to cover cancer scars; I have inked to cover pain of loss and to express great joy; but I have not inked to decrease my standing in life. I am still me. I am still a mother, survivor, professor, Christian. Having tattoos does not change that. 


These tattoos are my memories, permanently and beautifully painted onto my body. My body, which has had so much done to it, that I finally feel comfortable again in it, because of the tattoos. They represent me. 

The prejudice is there. However, would I ever get rid of my tattoos? Would I ever go back in time and start over? That’s like asking me if I would go back and not have cancer. Never. I like who I am and I think having cancer, and having my tattoos, has made me who I am. An English professor, a Christian and mother.

And I have tattoos.