Taking It on the Chin
By Allie Hostler
ARCATA, Calif.—Before the 20th century, most Hupa, Yurok and Karuk women wore “111” tattoos on their chins. The men had money tattoos on their upper arms to measure accurately the strands of dentalia, juniper berries and other items used then as currency.
Today, traditional tattooing is making a comeback with some Northern California tribal people. About two dozen women reportedly bear the 111 on their chins, and four of them and three men—all California Indians—were part of a panel discussion on traditional tattooing at the 20th annual California Indian Conference and Gathering.
“It’s like wearing your culture on your face every day,” said Lyn Risling, a panelist at the meeting last month at Humboldt State University.
Risling said her transformation started years ago when she wanted a 111 tattoo but dismissed the idea for various reasons. Later, she said, she learned about Teresa Hendrix-Wright, a Yurok determined to become a tattoo artist and give women traditional tattoos.
Risling said Hendrix-Wright, a Nevada resident who comes from Pekwan and Wohtek villages on the Yurok reservation in Northern California, traveled to Hawaii in 2000 to enlist Gary Tadao, a renowned Japanese artist, to tattoo the 111 on her chin.
Tadao refused, hesitant to tattoo a woman’s face, Risling said.
Hendrix-Wright did not give up. She spoke with Tadao many times on the phone, explaining the ancient culture involving the tattoos and eventually persuading him to tattoo her during a return trip to Hawaii in 2002.
Hendrix-Wright then bought a machine and began to practice the art on herself and her husband. Still not satisfied, she attended the 2002 Tattoo the Earth festival in Oakland, Calif., to learn more from the world's greatest tattoo artists. There, she met Inia Taylor, who used ancient Polynesian tapping methods of tattooing. Soon, she traveled to New Zealand for a short apprenticeship with him to learn that method.
Hendrix-Wright brought home the knowledge needed to give women the 111 tattoo in a traditional way. She set the outline for Risling’s tattoo, and Keone Nunes, another traditional Polynesian tattooist in the area for a tattoo workshop at Potowat Health Village in Arcata, completed it.
Many members of Risling’s family and several close friends were present for her transformation. Writer Julian Lang described the moment in an article published in the spring 2004 issue of the magazine News from Native California.
“As the tattoo slowly spread across Lyn’s chin, we all felt the exact moment when the transformation occurred. It was a startling and beautiful moment that brought tears to our eyes. The shared pain and joy reminded us all of a birth. The painful bloody time had passed, and now there was a new person in our midst,” Lang wrote.
“It was always there,” Risling said, speaking of her tattoos. “It’s just that now, people can see it.”
L. Frank Manriquez, a Southern California native who bears the 111 tattoo, saw a photo of a woman with the tattoo in News from Native California and was intrigued. She began with what she calls her starter kit—two parallel lines on each of her cheeks, followed by the 111 on her chin, the raven’s beak design on her left leg, a mourning design around her neck and several other images, all with symbolic meaning.
“My tribe has been deemed extinct by the federal government,” said Manriquez, a Tongva/Ajachmem. “This is a way to hold hands with my sisters through time. I just wanted that connection.”
The tattoos have different meaning for each person, but the panelists agreed about an element of responsibility that accompanies wearing them.
Risling said she encounters questions every day about her 111 and always takes a minute to explain its cultural significance and importance. In a positive way, she said, the tattoos have bridged a gap for her between two worlds, her traditional Native cultural life and her contemporary business life in today’s diverse society.
According to Lang’s article in News from Native California, there was no single reason that women were marked with the 111. They were tattooed for beauty, for the transformation from girl to woman, for spiritual reasons and as a way to distinguish between the sexes in battle or in old age, he wrote.
On receiving their tattoos, the panelists said, they experienced a deeper connection with their traditional way of life.
Other panels at the conference discussed basket weaving and cultural arts and more controversial topics facing California Natives. These included language, the desire to preserve sacred sites like the San Francisco Bay Area shell mounds and environmental concerns about Sudden Oak Death, Klamath River dams and Native plants.
Allie Hostler, Hoopa, attends Humboldt State University in Arcata, Calif. She is a graduate of the Freedom Forum's 2005 American Indian Journalism Institute.
Article Link: http://www.reznetnews.org/culture/051121_tattoo/
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