This epilogue was solidified after watching this clip graciously donated to my computer by Chocolate Bear.
I am pigment deficient or lets say challenged. I have done some extensive body modification. As a result I have noticed some interesting reactions from the public at large. I admit I do not, nor, cannot begin to understand the plight of the gentleman in the video. What I can attest to is the generality of ignorance and fear of the unfamiliar as exhibited in aforementioned film.
I see the way you look at me with that smug vile look of disgust; as if you once puked on tequila and someone just bought you a shot. The whispers and side glances that fill the room as I walk in. I see in my peripheral an attractive girl starring, eyes locked and filled with wonder. Is he nice, bad, does he even have a job? Where is his motorcycle? How dangerous is he? Ohh my, I want one of those.
What you may not know is that even though I look weird, strange, or even exotic, I would kick your ass on Jeopardy. Thats right, if you came into my office you would never know I spent over 40+ hours with some sadist armed with 20 or so needles and a jug of ink. Even better than that, the guy you just thanked for saving (prolonging) your loved ones life has a sleeve dedicated to Dia De Los Muertos. Ironic isn’t it? The people you fear and loathe because of addition of color to their skin, are the same very people you depend on to pull you out of the worst situations.
I don’t blame you, I have color and “some designs” on my body because I appreciate the social complexities that folk art on skin implies to the “civil population”; the contrast between acceptable appearance and the moral boundary’s of others. You are welcomed to look. You are welcome do disagree with my artistic perspective. More over, you are welcome to ask questions. However, do not lecture me on the evils of my decisions or point out where my final spiritual destination is according to your religion.
Case in point, I have an uncle who is a member of the “greatest generation” and fresh out of Arkansas. He is very southern baptist and quite generous with his assessment of others. Every time he visits I know how the conversation will go:
Uncle “Son. Do you know what you have done to yourself?
JP “No. No I don’t. But all the gay guys that were with me told me the fresh ink looks fab-u-los!”
Uncle “Son. You body is your temple and you must respect it. God gave you that body and you must return it.”
JP “Well lets just say a fresh coat of paint is not the worst thing that has occurred to this temple. If anything it has spruced things up.”
Uncle “You will end up a lost soul.”
JP “Can’t be too hard to lose with my last name shoulder to shoulder in 3 inch letters.”
I kid you not. This is the same conversation I have every time with him.
The point of this exercise in futility, is there are still intolerant individuals out there. I never understood the ism’s of the world or how one is an “ist” of sorts. Ever since I have expanded my art collection, I have been noticing more people as Chocolate Bear would say, “mean muggin fools.” Because my experience is self inflicted I have a different perspective on this concept of mean muggin. Though, it is all the same in the end. They guy in the film represents what I would like to do every time someone inappropriately stares. It is true the more you try to avoid it, the worse it is. So, BOO Bitch! Lol, Classic! Cheers.