Rooted Rebellion


I never knew the tattoo I have on my wrist existed in real life.

I finally found my roots tangled on the edge of a college campus in the south. 

Sometimes you dream up images years before they appear. 

I got my tattoo when I was 16, I'm 27 now.

It only took 11 years for me to find the tree I have etched into my wrist.

I used my best friends ID to get that tattoo.

She was 2 years older. 

While my other friend got a heart tattooed on her underparts, I chose a tree. 

It's an odd tattoo for a teenager to want, but there was always a wiseness in my rebellion. 

A sort of let's try this out, but let's make it meaningful as well. 

I will be bad, but with intention.

The subconscious is a know it all even when we want to ignore, we know. 

We always know. 

I still rebel, mostly with intention, but with a respect for myself and the earth. 

Rebellion has taken on a new meaning these days, a rebellion again perspectives I used to accept without question. 

A retaliation against beliefs I once thought were ok. 

A coming home to my true self, the uncovering of what was always there. 

A girl, rooted in her body, expanded in her mind, looking up for the questions, at moments in time.

(Do you want to publish this piece on your website? E-mail me for inquiries)