In preparation for this class session, we read chapters 5-9 of Caplan’s Written on the Body. Chapter 5, by Juliet Fleming, first discusses how tattooing is, of course, permanent; for some reason, current Western culture has identified permanence as a negative thing. I thought this was interesting, because there are some things – like marriage – that our culture holds on a pedestal for their permanence. But, when the permanent change involves the body, we’ve gone too far. On the other hand, Fleming raises the point that tattoos are only as permanent as the body they adorn – so, not very permanent at all in the grand scheme of things. At the end of her chapter, Fleming makes a compelling point about the connection between tattooing and “foreignness.” She writes “the tattoo may be thought to have achieved its status as the mark of strangeness or barbarity by force of analogy, since it is itself caused by the introduction of a foreign body under the skin” (81). I wish Fleming had explored this idea more thoroughly; I like arguments that compare the action of tattooing to its figurative effect.
In the next chapter, Harriet Guest discusses 18th-century British views on South Pacific tattooing. To be honest, I found this chapter and the point it was trying to make confusing. Guest does provide a lot of interesting information about different cultures’ customs of tattooing, but given that this is done through the lens of 18th-century Britain, the information is heavily skewed. From my understanding, Guest mainly reiterated the point that the British did not view these South Pacific people as people, which added fuel to their fascination with their tattooing customs. I think the most interesting point she raised was that, in Enlightenment philosophy, “the treatment of women” is “the index of civility” (91). I had not encountered this idea before, so it provides a helpful framework for other 18th-century readings I may do in the future. It makes sense that these philosophers would have viewed femininity as unchanging and therefore a valid index to judge how “civilized” a certain culture may be. They only saw white men as having depth or agency, so these same white men’s treatment of women became the pinnacle of “civilization.”
Clare Anderson moves the discussion to India and the practice of godna. Anderson describes how, in Hinduism, tattooing had several functions: “evidence of earthly suffering,” religious rites, a way to achieve good health, and a way to signify caste (104). I think this is such a beautiful variety of uses for tattooing, and I had no idea that tattooing was so integral to both tribal groups and caste Hindus in India. Unfortunately, tattooing also had a punitive function, even before the arrival of the British. I thought the most interesting result of this function was that “cultural norms relating to dress and physical appearance thus became a means through which convicts were able to mask the identity assigned to them by colonial penal codes” (115). Convicts would use turbans or their hair to cover forehead tattoos, which does seem like an obvious flaw in the forehead tattooing system. So, even though the marks themselves were permanent – or, as permanent as they can be on a human body – these people were able to effectively erase them.
In chapter 8, Hamish Maxwell-Stewart and Ian Duffield discuss the tattooing practices of convicts shipped to Australia for their crimes. Maxwell-Stewart and Duffield mention how common anchor tattoos were among these convicts as a symbol of hope, originating from a New Testament passage. I found it super cool to see how far back the tradition of anchor tattoos goes because I think they are still very common today. Further, I think a lot of people who get anchor tattoos today get them to represent hope or another similar sentiment. The authors use this meaning of anchor tattoos to, in a sense, translate many convict tattoos; by saying the word “hope” in place of “anchor,” these tattoos gain a more coherent meaning. Apparently, many of these convicts would get some, if not all, of their tattoos while on the long journey to Australia. Because they were booked in and identified by their tattoos, some convicts would then tattoo over previous tattoos to take back control of their bodies.
Finally, in chapter 9, James Bradley discusses tattooing in Victorian Britain. I was most interested in Bradley’s assertion that some members of the upper class got tattoos; thus far, much of the scholarship we have read has heavily identified tattooing with criminals or the working class. Bradley mentions Gambier Bolton, a member of the “newly tattooed upper classes” who had several tattoos, some acquired over the course of world travels (146). I don’t think I have ever encountered media that depicts rich Victorian people with tattoos, but this chapter completely flips any assumptions I may have made on their heads. However, I also thought it was important that Bradley noted that a lot of Victorian people still would not have viewed tattooing as a normal thing. In this case, tattoos were “a leisured and luxurious form of consumption,” cementing the type of tattooing Bolton engaged with as a somewhat frivolous, unattainable practice (153).