THE ANKH AND OTHER TATTOOS OF MINE

Editorial Assistant Ella Barker reflects on the memories and meanings associated with her tattoos.

My very first tattoo was of an Ankh. Sitting behind my right ear, it serves as a reminder of my greatest love: Egyptology. Admittedly, translating and transliterating hieroglyphs is not my specialty, but I know enough to get by. It itched deep those first few weeks, but now my hair covers it so much that I almost forget it’s there. Almost. Can you ever really forget the first tattoo, good or bad or in-between?

It took fifteen minutes to have the Ankh tattooed behind my ear, where it’ll sit until I die. Even though it’s pretty well hidden from everyone, myself included, it's nice to know that I carry my lifelong passion with me wherever I go. Its purpose within hieroglyphs was to represent ‘life’ in a sentence or tomb artwork, and I think in a way that’s what it means to me. I’ve never really sat down and prescribed my tattoos any symbolic meaning, but the Ankh represents my life: Egyptology. Craning my head in weird angles trying to spot the Ankh in the bathroom mirror, reminding myself it’s there, is worth the strain I get. I’ve branded myself with my goals, my loves. 

The Eye of Horus on my upper back serves a similar purpose, I think. It’s also an Egyptian hieroglyph, used for protection. Luckily, I don’t think I’m in need of divine protection from ancient Egyptian deities, but it’s nice to think that the tattoo connects me to them. Now, if I have kids, I can use the phrase “I have eyes in the back of my head!”, and it’s only a little wrong.

The Eye of Horus is another one I have to struggle and twist to find with my eyes, but the spiritual ties I feel with it and the Ankh mean that I don’t necessarily feel the need to. I know they’re there, watching, waiting, protecting, healing. They serve their now-prescribed purpose without constant supervision.

The cross-pattern on my wrist does the same, yet my eyes are never truly able to escape it. In July 2023 when I got it, it was a symbol of my time in Greece: a permanent souvenir, if you will. The pattern is one my mum found on Google that matched a pattern I had seen on a wall somewhere in Athens that I stupidly didn’t take a picture of. Now, it’s balance—something I’ve always struggled with. April that same year had a massive high and a catastrophic loss, and getting to Greece for that study abroad trip meant more than anyone will ever know. So I’m happy to see this one every day: it’s not just a symbol for Greece, but for my happiness, for my beloved Ike, and for me.

As for the postal stamp on my arm with lemons inside: that’s a symbol for surviving a two-week Contiki trip to Italy. I think the other three have everything else covered.

by Ella Barker