Thick Skin

A tattoo artist recently told me that black skin is thicker than white skin. To be fair, I may have accidentally encouraged his way of thinking, as I made a joke that I almost fell asleep during the session. I wanted to model strength, not focus too much on the pain, and in some way, not worry him as he worked.

I'm a little mad at myself that I didn’t push back on his comment in the moment, as I was skeptical of his claim that black skin is thicker. But the day had gone so well, I chose to be chill and not be confrontational. I also wanted to do some research first to get my facts together. Melanated people do be magic — could there be some truth to what he was saying?

Nope, it isn’t true. It is, however, a common myth, with a harmful history that has been used to dehumanize Black people. This belief that we are somehow stronger and more tolerant of pain has a range of negative consequences, from higher Black maternal mortality rates to how people are treated more generally by healthcare providers.

This tattoo experience was very positive. The artist, Michele Volpi, is located in Bologna, Italy and is a genius and a master of his craft.

My partner John and I actually both got tattoos from him that day, and we felt so welcome. We were amazed by his warmth and professionalism. John wanted a little sardine — because, why not?

I’m definitely entering my tattoo era as I’m getting older. I tend to overanalyze things, and it’s taken me a minute to find the courage to get started. Also, the reality is, sadly, I may have held off until now for my safety. I’ve always felt the need to be vigilant of how my style and the way I carry myself can impact how I might be perceived — and how it could have potentially dangerous consequences for me as a Black man in America.

Tattoo idea doodles!

My skin actually feels paper thin these days. Uncertainty, anger, anxiety and sadness, from what’s happening at home and around the world. But really at the heart, it’s exhaustion. I’m tired, like so many of us. I’m worn down by the lack of empathy, and the lack of seeing one another. I’m worn down by not feeling safe in my country. I feel like we’re being called upon, once again, to fight, to raise our voices and demand change. But when I check in with myself, I know I’m running on fumes.

So, I’m choosing to exercise a privilege that I know is not available to many people. I’m choosing to take some time away from the United States for at least the next year. I’m choosing to walk, to play, to savor, to connect, to explore. I’m expanding my idea of what home might mean.

John and I are just beginning this journey, and while it’s exciting, it’s also terrifying. We packed up our house, sold our cars, and said goodbye for now to our amazing community of friends and family in California. I’m not sure how this newsletter will evolve, but you’ll be joining me as I do things I’ve never done before — like illustrating a picture book while living out of a suitcase.

This is my current background image on my phone. Little me — a reminder that this is the life I have been entrusted with taking care of, and a reminder of how much I’ve grown.

I’ve come to realize that the fighting stance, while important and necessary, is not a sustainable stance. Therefore, I’m protecting my peace so that I can better show up to the fight.