Jordan has always had a fascination for tattoos, relentlessly begging her parents to get a tattoo at a young age. But she had to wait until she was an adult before her first ink. ‘I was 18 when I got my first tattoo’, Jordan begins. ‘My dad had a lot of tattoos. Most of his were jail tattoos or from when he was younger. Despite my requests, dad wouldn’t let me get a tattoo before I was 18.’
Determined to steer Jordan away from tattoos, in the lead-up to her 18th birthday, her dad got creative. ‘My dad would randomly poke me with a sewing needle to try and scare me away from getting a tattoo’, Jordan laughs. ‘I wanted him to stop as it hurt, to which he replied, “tattoos hurt”. He kept doing it.’
Jordan’s desire for tattoos could not be deterred. I dug a little deeper as to what instilled this love. Jordan was born with cerebral palsy. Cerebral palsy is a physical disability that affects movement and posture. Cerebral palsy literally translates as cerebral—of the brain, palsy—lack of muscle control. More than 17 million people live with cerebral palsy worldwide. Cerebral palsy can present from weakness in one hand to significant disability requiring 24 hour a day care. Jordan lives with significant mobility disability and requires wheelchair assistance. Her love of tattoos began as a way to claim control over her body.
The first task for Jordan was finding a tattoo studio that was accessible. ‘I did some research and went for one in Granville. I had the money saved. I had the design. I was to get my brother’s name, Shannon. And it was only going to be $100’, Jordan recalls. Jordan’s parents did a site visit to suss out the situation. Knowing the industry intimately, her dad took charge while Jordan and her mum waited in the car. ‘He was inside for 15 minutes, and I thought, “this is good”’, Jordan says. Assuming her dad was sorting the logistics, Jordan was sorely disappointed to hear her dad declare: ‘You’re not going there’. ‘They’ve got a ramp!’ Jordan responded, ‘I’m going there.’ Unfortunately, Jordan’s dad was right. She couldn’t go there. He had seen guys shooting up drugs while he was in the shop.
So, the research continued. Eventually, Jordan found a shop that she liked, but it had a few steps. ‘I thought dad would have to help me get into the shop,’ Jordan tells me. She planned to catch a train and meet her dad there and put a $100 deposit down. But, in true Sydney fashion, the trains weren’t running on the day of her appointment. Unable to contact her dad, Jordan rang her mum to confirm that if she got a taxi to her appointment, her dad could pay for it on arrival, to which she was assured he did.
Upon arrival, Jordan discovered her dad didn’t have money for the taxi. After a tense exchange with the driver demanding Jordan ask the shop for her tattoo deposit to pay her cab fare, Jordan’s father assured the taxi driver he would be paid in two days. ‘It was a stressful start to my first tattoo!’ Jordan emphatically tells me.
Despite a stressful beginning, Jordan’s first tattoo experience went relatively smoothly from here. ‘I turned to dad while getting tattooed and asked, “why did you poke me with a needle for a week? It doesn’t feel anything like that”’, Jordan recalls. “Dad replied, ‘Shit. I knew you weren’t going to hate this. Now you’re going to be covered in them’, Jordan smirks.
Her dad wasn’t wrong. Despite the challenges Jordan faces every time she gets a tattoo, her love for the art means she has persisted. It’s been 10 years since Jordan’s first tattoo. ‘You have a lot of tattoos now. Did you get a lot at one time, or has it been evenly spaced out over the 10 years?’ I asked.
‘No, I went a little bit crazy for a while. I found a tattoo artist that would do cheap tattoos for me. When my mum and dad passed away in 2013, I was 18, turning 19. And I started self-harming’, Jordan opens up. ‘I ended up in a mental health ward, and a girl in the ward had deep scars on her arm. I wondered why her scars were so deep, and she told me what she was using, so I decided, “okay, I am going to use that.” That’s why I have such deep scars.’
Jordan explains that self-harming was a way to dull the emotional pain of losing her parents. ‘When I found this tattoo artist, I thought, oh cool, I can get a tattoo every week, instead of self-harming’, Jordan continues. Tattoos became a mechanism to replace the physical pain of self-harming and to regain a semblance of control in her life. ‘As a result, I do now have some shitty tattoos’, Jordan chuckles.
As far as regret over her tattoos, Jordan doesn’t really have any. ‘I have tattoos I don’t like to look at for various reasons’, Jordan divulges. ‘I tried to get one lasered off once, but my body wouldn’t have it. The lasered tattoo was originally orange but for some reason, it turned green, which is definitely not supposed to happen.’ She has a couple of tattoos that she would like fixed, for example, her Mum and Dad’s portraits. ‘They don’t really look like my mum and dad. I would love to have them done by a professional portrait tattooist, but my guardian won’t currently allow it due to cost’, Jordan explains.
The conversation segued into the tragic tattoo errors we’ve seen. ‘Just a little bit of advice for anyone getting a tattoo; Make sure you spell check it BEFORE you get it!’ Jordan declares. ‘Yeah, no ragrets!’ I laugh before pausing and asking if this is a live it, learn it situation.
Jordan sheepishly replies, ‘I got a tattoo with a little rose and angel wings, and I got the lyrics from “Supermarket Flowers” by Ed Sheeran, and it was supposed to say, “You were an angel in the shape of my mum” but they missed the an... I don’t know if that was my fault or the tattoo artists fault but I went to my friend’s house after and he asked what my tattoo was meant to say I was like” oh shit.” It’s on my chest where I can’t see it. Others can but I can live in denial.’
‘You don’t see much representation in the tattoo industry. What makes a parlour accessible to you?’ I asked. ‘Besides the obvious, a ramp and a wide enough door, they need to have tattoo artists that are willing to tattoo me’, Jordan replied.
When it comes to shop layouts and accessibility, people with disabilities are often an afterthought, if considered at all. Then there’s the matter of being tattooed. For Jordan, she does not have control over her legs. They will involuntarily twitch.
‘When I was younger, my legs would jump more when I was tattooed so a lot of tattoo artists turned me away in fear of the tattoos not turning out right. A lot of the tattoos on my legs aren’t finished because the pain on my legs was worse, and tattoo artists just didn’t want to touch me.’
‘I’ve only had two people try and give me tattoos on my legs. One lady, Liz, was really good with holding my legs in place and me jumping and moving. Even though the tattoos didn’t turn out the best, I appreciated her understanding of my situation.’
Jordan highlights a pertinent issue regarding a lack of training regarding disabilities in the industry. There are training schools and courses for aspiring tattoo artists and regulations around business hygiene, strict protocols with equipment and rules regarding personal hygiene. There are groups that aim to protect the rights and amplify the voices of tattoo artists and those getting inked. Amongst all of these resources, you’d be hard-pressed to find information for people living with disabilities.
We talked further about the issues surrounding accessibility. There were instances where, beyond the entrance, accessibility was not considered. ‘There was a shop in Newtown with a ramp at the entrance, but once you were in, to get a tattoo you had to go upstairs’, Jordan recalls. Jordan spoke to a tattoo artist in the shop who was understanding of Jordan’s needs and brought his equipment downstairs to tattoo her in the waiting area of the shop. She also explained that her leg would jump around when he tattooed her, and he was fine with it. Short of angels in the industry like this, getting a tattoo can be rather difficult.
‘A lot of them have stairs. I guess when tattooing first became popular, we weren’t really thought about’, Jordan says, ‘My friend who just got a chest piece done was carried up two flights of stairs’.
‘As you saw when I got my recent tattoo, my wheelchair now allows me to lay back in it. But before, I had this chair that I had to get out of and onto the tattoo beds, and that is hard for me to do unless I take somebody with me. I don’t expect anybody to be able to lift me onto a bed,’ Jordan explains.
Wanting to know more about existing accessibility, I questioned whether Joran had ever seen a rail in a shop. The answer was a resolute no. ‘Rails wouldn’t help me personally,’ Jordan explains, ‘but for others who are more able than I am, it would definitely help’.
Jordan explains it is hard to find accessible parlours, and the ones that are, come at a cost. Wheelchair accessible shops generally charge more. ‘I got a large piece recently that was $200, and a wheelchair-accessible parlour would charge upwards of $400’, Jordan tells me. ‘In saying this, I have only found 4 wheelchair-accessible parlours in Sydney. There’s probably more out there, but I haven’t found them.’
‘Most tattoo parlours are actually pretty small and cramped, which is annoying when you’re in a wheelchair and trying not to knock things over and bump into people’, Jordan explains. I asked Jordan what improvements she would like to see regarding disability advocacy and inclusion. ‘I want more accessibility and understanding,’ Jordan emphasises. ‘Everyone with a disability is different. I know how my body works, and I can explain that. Someone else with the same disability as me could be completely different. I just want tattoo artists to listen to what we are saying and don’t reject us because we’re disabled.’
With so much experience in the industry and a clear love for the art, I was curious whether Jordan had any desire to enter the tattoo industry herself. ‘I can’t draw a stick figure to save my life!’ Jordan laughs, ‘I probably wouldn’t even be able to trace’. Jordan tells me she did have an artistic uncle whose drawings she treasures. Before his death in 2016, he designed a tattoo for Jordan that she gave to a regular tattoo artist to mind until she decided where to get the tattoo. Heartbreakingly, the piece was lost in the shop. ‘I do have some of his other drawings that I would like to get tattooed, but I don’t have the space for them. I could possibly find space but my pain tolerance for tattoos has also gone down’, Jordan explains.
She doesn’t really have an answer for her pain tolerance decrease. The pain may have slowed her down a bit, but it has not deterred her. ‘I see tattoos I like all of the time. But for some reason, I want to get another panther’, Jordan states. Admiring Jordan’s tattoo on her cheek, I asked if she would get another one on her face. Jordan explains the series of unfortunate events that led to that particular tattoo and declares that, yes, she would get another perhaps under happier circumstances. I cautiously suggest The 504 on her forehead to which I receive a flat ‘No’. Pushing further, I explain my business idea to Jordan of a large-scale mural adorning The 504 Headquarters walls featuring Jordan with The 504 forehead tattoo. After a minute’s silence Jordan says, ‘Well, if you’re paying for it actually…’. I backpedal, laugh and suggest that perhaps The 504 tattoo should be somewhere else not quite so obvious.
Written and Edited by Andrea Penze
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