Change (feat. Tattoos)

My mom bought me my first tattoo. She has a few herself, but my dad was pretty against me having any at first. Despite this, my parents love Ink Master. I'm not sure when they decided they were qualified to critique tattoos, but I can hear them make their best educated guess on who should be eliminated. Bear with me when I tell you: my dad is very conservative. He is the type of old white man that agrees with Tea Party values. He does not believe humans have anything to do with climate change. He thinks BLM is a terrorist organization. He once argued with me (to tears, I was very angry) over my cousin's gender identity because I tried to explain I do not get to label someone else. I am a sociology/anthropology major who is very socially Democratic (he likes to say bleeding heart liberal/heathen), as a millennial minority is wont to do. Tonight as they were watching Ink Master: Angels, a Black person introduced themselves as an intersex transgender genderqueer femme. Normally, I'd expect my parents to eye roll and make jokes. But when they first called me in to the living room, I thought I was in trouble. My dad was very serious and calm about it. As I walked in, my dad rewound the show and had me watch. My mind was racing, queer erasure? Sexual assault? Racism? Intersectionality? A sick tattoo? Through a bit of a laugh they both asked me what any of that was or meant. They knew transgender and they could probably figure out femme, but they genuinely wanted to know. Now I'm not saying my dad is forever changed by this one Black femme. Or that his casual racism and sexism is pardoned because he's trying. But I'm completely thrown for a loop. They reached out to understand. Still in shock, I haven't asked them why but I'm pleased. And using a mixture of my experience as a millennial and my expensive education, I explained best I could in terms they could understand.
     Educating parents is fun. I think we all act like it's a burden, but in this shit economy and terrible political climate this is the only real power we have. "You destroyed my chance to buy a house or have reasonable rent and elected everyone's 3rd grade bully as president, BUT I KNOW HOW TO SAVE PHOTOS TO THE CLOUD SO WHO'S REALLY SLAYING IT?" Not to mention, we get to be needed by people we grew up thinking were indestructible.
     In basking in their need of my worldly knowledge, I was really proud that they were changing. And I was enforcing a kind of change. Me, the person who's shoulder pops out of place when I lift heavy things: I was helping members of the white, heteronormitive society, the ones that elected Trump and crashed our economy (and constantly live in denial of it), understand change and learn about minorities in this world. Through one tiny interaction two more people learned more about identity. So who's really slaying it?

They are. They still are. I'm an adult woman who can't lift two gallons of milk living in her parent's house crying into dairy free ice cream that I had to use a credit card to buy and blogging about it.


Thanks for reading my post! If you think it's relatable or know someone who needs to read it (if you’re using it to call out someone's racism) feel free to share! 살있어

-thesometimesasian