A Dad’s Tattoo Parlor Moment
A surprising connection offers a lesson in loosening up
A tattoo parlor isn’t a place I expected to have a moment with my youngest child.
But there we were, earlier this year. At Cyclops Tattoo in San Francisco.
With 18-year-old Skyla lying on their back, the tattoo artist piercing their shoulder with an electric ink gun.
And my little one looking into my eyes.
I held Skyla’s gaze. Felt for them as they winced in pain. Tried to reassure them.
“Love you,” I said.
***
I wasn’t the only one there to support Skyla, who was assigned female at birth but now identifies as non-binary. Skyla’s oldest bestie, Elliott, was there as well. In fact, Elliott was holding Skyla’s hand, stroking Skyla’s arm.
It was as dear as when the two of them were age four, inseparable preschool pals.
We also were in great hands. Jason Stein was the tattoo artist. A professional who had done tattoos on close friends, Chris and Courtney, as well as on their child when she turned 18.
All this made me more comfortable with Skyla’s decision to get a tattoo soon after their 18th birthday. I am something of an old fogey on tattoos. I don’t have one myself. And I’m wary of young people deciding to get them before their brains fully mature around age 25.
My logic of waiting several years didn’t win over Skyla. But their choice of a tattoo won me over. Skyla created a tattoo based on the toy boats they would make as a small child with their late grandfather, Carl Richie.
The design is simple and childlike–replete with a spool of thread at the bow and a screw at the stern, holding the sail.
Grandpa Carl, who died three years ago, was not a fan of tattoos. But somehow I imagine him appreciating Skyla’s gesture of respect and love. A gesture Skyla just made permanent on their body.
Perhaps Carl is smiling down at Skyla just as I was smiling at them as they weathered the tattoo pain. Maybe Skyla looked at me in part to avoid looking at the needle gun. I don’t care. What matters is they sought out my eyes, seeking a bit of comfort and encouragement.
And I was able to be a dad for Skyla.
***
There was a time, perhaps 10 years ago, when I couldn’t have imagined that scene. When I was a father who leaned so far into the “protector” role that I lost my balance.
I tried to control Skyla more than cultivate her spirit. Raising Skyla and my son Julius was too much about rules and not enough about recognizing their unique talents and callings. Setting boundaries bled too much into erecting barricades, driven by distrust and fear.
I mistook Skyla’s strong will for pure surliness. And I responded more as a law enforcer than a loving father.
I’m grateful for evolving since then. With the patient guidance of my partner, Skyla’s mom Rowena. With the support of wise mothers and fathers who surround me. They’ve helped me see Skyla’s beautiful, spunky soul when I’ve lost sight of it.
I’m also indebted to the many folks who’ve helped me reinvent masculinity for myself–and to offer alternative, healthier models of manliness and fatherhood to others.
For years, fathers were told to be disciplinarians above all else. It was paranoia-driven parenting that led to being distant, disconnected dads. A truly loving fatherhood requires us to loosen up. To treat our children with a lighter touch. To see them as glasses half-full. To trust that they, in all likelihood, will grow into deeply good human beings if we spend more time listening to them than laying down the law.
***
After all, once they hit 18, we no longer have the law on our side. Skyla is now an adult, legally allowed to get a tattoo.
And I’m surprised to say I’m glad they did get one.
Because it enabled one of the most profound experiences I’ve had of caring for Skyla. Right up there with the time Skyla was an infant and got a chest x-ray in a medieval-seeming contraption. I will never forget how Skyla wailed and seemed so helpless. I was glad to be able to pull them out of the harness, hold them, comfort them.
At the tattoo parlor the other day, the moment of comforting Skyla didn’t last long. We locked eyes for maybe 60 seconds or so. And the entire tattoo process was over in about 20 minutes.
But that connection feels unforgettable.
As indelible as the toy boat that now sails on Skyla’s shoulder.
