So today I wanted to share a short story about something I always have to face during the sunny days (and mostly in Paris, where tattoos are still considered something "bad", "violent", and all that cliches). I know that's not something really difficult to live with, but it's a kind of physical discrimination we tattooed people have to face all the time.
So, I was waiting for the metro, calmly, looking at my phone like I always do and was on my way to meet a friend in the "Jardin des plantes" in Paris. The weather was absolutely beautiful, and I was wearing a top showing off every single tattoo I own (well, nearly all of them... Check my sets). When a guy came out of nowhere and started to fix his gaze at my arms and chest for a long, long, long time.
I politely looked at him and said :
"Please, tell me if I disrupt you."
He seemed offended, and replied : "No, no, your tattoos are very cool".
"Thanks, but you know we're not in a Museum right now?"
The puppy was ready to attack. You know, I don't think there is any good translation for this word in english, but I could hear very loudly this beautiful answer :
"Sale pute"
Thank you, dear. He was unstoppable : getting more and more mad at each new insult, telling me I should just shut the fuck up and accept to be stared at like he did because, after all, I deserved it : if I chose to be tattooed I HAD be treated like a freak.
I know I'm not the only one facing this here... But it's hard sometimes.
