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Posts Tagged ‘poorlydressedmiddleagedwomen’

This post will not be music-related. Instead, it will be a rant about something that happened to me earlier today. I tried to shrug it off, but some forms of ignorance and close-minded-ness gets under my skin. Unfortunately, this incident is one of those cases.

I’d like to start off by saying, I have tattoos, and when I wear a t-shirt, they are visible; 3/4 of my tattoos are covered, even in a t-shirt.  I’d like to note that they’re not vulgar, rude, or particularly unpleasant on the eyes. I have roses, birds, and a simplistic, black-outlined, borderline cartoony, piece inspired by the street artist Know Hope.

I was walking to the subway earlier today, and I noticed a middle aged lady staring at me as she walked by, quite obviously in disgust. As she walked past me– and by “past me,” I mean a few steps to my left– she was still in my peripherals and in my full view if I slightly turned my head. She scrunched up her face, shrugged her shoulders, and shook her head as if she had just eaten a cockroach. It was just her and I in that hallway. I had just showered, and besides the tattoos, I’m a very clean and polished man. I may be jumping to conclusions, but I can almost guarantee that it was my tattoos that she was so visibly disgusted by.

I have a full understanding that not everyone likes tattoos, and I respect that; however, in today’s society, and within Toronto — one of the most multi-culural, diverse, and open-minded cities in the world– people should have the decency to keep their opinions and apparent disgust to themselves. She had short, bleach-blonde hair and pastel, outdated fashion (like she stepped out of the 80’s) that I didn’t agree with, but I didn’t make a face as if I ate a lemon because of it. Everyone should respect others’ lifestyles.

What bothers me most is I have very specific reasons for getting the tattoos I have. My most visible one (roses and a heart) I got on the 10-year anniversary of my mother’s passing; she died from a long battle with breast cancer when I was 14. My second tattoo was inspired by a street artist that I would pass everyday on my way to work when I lived in New York City, and now I always associate that artist with my time in New York.

What I’m getting at is, when she scrunched up her face at my tattoos, I took it personally. She was really scrunching up her face at symbols of the most vulnerable time in my life (my own mothers death) and the best time in my life (living abroad in New York). She had no right in judging me just as much as I had no right in judging her poor fashion.

To the lady that shot me a dirty look, I’m not asking you to like my tattoos. Just be more subtle next time.

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