Statistics on the topic are hard to find, but according to a Pew Research Center report, roughly 4 in 10 millennials have tattoos. And I have just become one of them.
“What? A tattoo?” (I hear you gasp, shocked that such a nice girl like me would do such a thing.) Yes. I now have Captain America’s shield – you know, the red-white-and-blue big round Frisbee with a star in the middle that Chris Evans throws around in the movies – inked on the top of my right wrist. If you saw it at a distance, you might think I was wearing a funky watch.
“Did it hurt?” Well, yes. It felt like being scratched by a cat for half an hour nonstop. Fortunately (or not so fortunately, depending on your point of view), I have an “expressive” cat, so I am pretty used to the feeling of a cat scratch. Also, I brought along a friend who let me squeeze the bones out of her hand.
“Where did you get it done?” I went to the Black Hen Studio in South Portland – a woman-owned-and-operated tattoo parlor. I highly recommend it if you are interested in getting some ink yourself. My artist was Carrie, and she was absolutely amazing, walking me through the whole process step by step and answering all of my stupid questions (some of which were, I admit, pretty stupid, including “Did you get these cushions at Target?” and “Can a dog lick off my tattoo?” to which the answers were, respectively, “yes” and “no”).
“Why on your wrist?” Mostly because I wanted to pick a body part that won’t stretch or sag too much with age, and my options are limited. Plus, I can cover it up pretty easily with long sleeves or a piece of jewelry.
When my arm is at my side, or flat on a table, the shield is perfectly centered; when I rotate my wrist, it slides around. The skin, the epidermis, is an organ, and it’s fascinating to see that made clear, to see my skin as the wondrous living shield it is, rather than just something I have to remember to put moisturizer and sunscreen on top of. Skin is stretchy, it slides, it soaks up the ink and will hold it forever. Getting the tattoo has made me see this part of my body in a whole new light.
“Why?” That’s the real question, I’m sure. Why would I go and get a Captain America shield tattooed on my wrist? Growing up, I didn’t think I would ever get a tattoo because I couldn’t think of anything I liked enough to have permanently on my body. But then as I dealt with alcoholism and sobriety, and as the months ticked past, I decided I wanted to get a tattoo to celebrate and commemorate my first full year of being sober. I wanted to be able to always look at this picture on my body that will never go away and remind myself that my one year of sobriety won’t go away either. No matter what happens in the future, I accomplished that, and nobody can take that away from me.
And of course, I was thinking of my dad, because I’m always thinking about my dad. Captain America was his favorite superhero. (Mine, too, for that matter.) In fact, for a very long time, the caller ID picture on my phone for my dad was a picture of him posing with a plastic Captain America shield in a hero pose – spine straight, chest puffed out, square-bearded. (I’d say “square-jawed,” but that would definitely be a lie. The beard was a good life choice.) He doesn’t call me on the phone anymore, but the years of looking at the little shield right before I heard his voice probably left a psychological impression.
Now, what does Captain America do? He fights for the little guy. He was a little guy. His primary “weapon” is a shield, which is a defensive item. Is he perfect? Heck no, but he tries, hard, to do the right thing. He’s willing to make sacrifices.
America is going through a bit of a rough patch right now. Some days I just want to take my dog and my cat and go live in a cave in the middle of the woods somewhere (and since I’m already in Maine, that’s a fairly plausible course of action). But that’s not going to happen. Dad isn’t around to help make the world a better place or to fight for the America that my family believes in. I am.
So that’s the final reason I chose this particular tattoo. As a promise to myself to keep fighting.
Victoria Hugo-Vidal is a Maine millennial. She can be contacted at:
Twitter: mainemillennial
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