Our theme for the month of March is “How to.”

As a rule, my parents dislike my tattoos. We’ve stopped having the parental conversations about me needing to think through permanent decisions, but I still keep a fresh one hidden just to keep the peace where I can.

Unfortunately, my most recent tattoo is in a rather forward place and is bright red—not to mention it’s in my father’s handwriting. I knew I had to say something. What was the best way to explain to your pastor parents that you got a tattoo in their handwriting to mimic the mark on the arm of a man who famously sold his soul to the devil?

Here was my technique.

Step 1: Establish the Background

The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus is a play written by Christopher Marlowe. It is based on the Faust legend, where a man named Faustus sells his soul to the devil for power and is eventually dragged to hell when his time is up. In one of the opening scenes Faustus summons the demon Mephistopheles, who guides him how to properly sell his soul to the devil: Write a deed of gift for his soul to the devil in his own blood. There’s some slight hesitation at first, but eventually Faustus does just that. He’s about to hand off the bloody contract when he sees on his arm the words “Homo Fuge,” which is Latin for “Man, Fly.” This stops Faustus. This message from heaven written on his arm (in many productions, in his own blood) tells him to get away and save himself.

But Faustus doesn’t immediately turn around and call to God. His response is “whither should I fly? If unto God, he’ll throw me down to hell.”

Mephistopheles eventually distracts Faustus enough to convince the man to hand over the contract and it’s settled: Faustus is damned. He lives his life on Earth in wealth and splendor, and then is eventually dragged down to hell—a classic example of a man doomed by the narrative.

It is a marvelous show. During lockdown I purchased a copy of the 2011 production from the Globe Theatre’s website and fell pretty much immediately. The “Homo Fuge” scene in particular stuck out to me. The idea that Faustus’s first reaction to getting a message from heaven was not penitence but fear really said something to Faustus’ understanding. When he thinks of God, he pictures punishment rather than forgiveness. Several times in the play Faustus almost calls on God but doesn’t (or can’t, depending on your theology). He wants to believe in a God that would love him and welcome him in without judgement, but he just can’t.

But still, heaven sent the message. Someone believes Faustus has the worth to be saved whether or not he takes it. Doesn’t that alone mean something?

Step 2: Explain Relevance to Self

The church is not always a nice place. It has a reputation for being judgemental and cruel to people it doesn’t deem as worthy—and boy can the church find an excuse to deem you as unworthy. It can be a place for community and support, but if you’re not a part of the in-group, it’s very easy to feel left behind at best and morally worthless at worst.

As a queer person raised in the church, I feel this deeply. My family was very heavily involved in the church when I was young, but it got much more complicated for me as I got older. Realizing I was queer quietly started pushing wedges between me and those around me. It was made silently clear that if I wanted to embrace that part of myself, I couldn’t be a part of their community. As I got older, this was only made more explicit. Now it’s complicated. My relationship with the church is pretty severed, but I think I still believe in a loving God who cares for me. Unfortunately that idea is so mixed up in the same images and terms that the people who hate me use. How the hell do I parse out what I can actually keep?

That’s what “Homo Fuge” is to me. It’s that message from Heaven saying to keep safe and that I am loved, mixed with the complications of a welcome I am never deemed worthy of by those around me.

Step 3: Explain the Tattoo Itself

It didn’t take me very long to decide I wanted this as a tattoo. The questions were where would I put it? What font? How would it be positioned?

(Minor tangent: “Homo Fuge” is the perfect number of letters for knuckle tattoos. There was a brief moment where I considered it, if only for the novelty of having a hand emblazoned with “HOMO” on it.)

When it came to fonts, it was really quite obvious: who better to be my message from heaven than my parents? My whole life they’ve been the heads of religion and love in my family. We have our differences and complications, but I know deeply that they care about me so much. To have them with me on my arm reminding me to be safe and that I am loved seemed absolutely perfect.

So, I took photos of my dad’s grocery list and my artist pulled the needed letters. One Thursday I snuck out for a few hours, and before long I had my father’s delightfully wonky letters decrying heaven’s call on my arm. I’ve never regretted it.

Step 4: Leave Out the Nuance

As someone who was rejected and deeply hurt by the church, I respect someone who embraces the concept of “damnation” and wears it with pride. I think it’s so powerful to claim the thing people chose to judge you for and to make it yours, which is part of the joy I have with this tattoo. If your only options are a Hell that fully embraces you and a Heaven that will only accept a part of you, the choice seems clear.

Unfortunately, even vaguely implying metaphorically that going to Hell is cool when you’re already trying to justify a permanent piece of body art will not go over well. Best leave this off the initial discussion and save it for a robust literary discussion at a later date. For now, focus on how you view words from God in their handwriting!

Step 5: Love

If you follow these steps, you should end up with a very loving and supportive cuddle on the couch from two wonderful religious parents who are happy to be your message from the heavens. They love you so very very much and even if they don’t approve of tattoos, they will always approve of you.

I now have a marvelous, personal piece from my favorite play as well as part of my parents always with me. It’s a unique tattoo, one no one else will ever have. It’s my reminder that someone out there loves me so much. I love my parents and I’m so delighted to have them with me for the rest of my life.

Sam Koster

Sam is unsure what exact words describe them best: Lunatic has been used, Gothic Romantic is apt, and Big ol’ Nerd is reductive but true. Mostly they just like stories in whatever form stories can be found. Sam specializes in Frankenstein, running “The Uncanny Productions” on YouTube, but they also dabble with podcasts, singing, and theatre as well. They have a DVD collection that’s long outgrown its shelf, a coffin they use as a desk, and an unrelenting joy for things that are spooky, ridiculous, or magical.