By Kameron Abilla

As a teen, I spent an abnormal amount of time reading the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. I passed it out to my classmates at school and even read the entire booklet one Sunday afternoon for fun. I worried about sheer and tight clothing, second piercings, and “kissing passionately”. But mostly, while there wasn’t a meaningful reason for my wanting one, I had always wanted a tattoo. 

In my life, I’ve said hundreds of prayers about wanting a tattoo. As a missionary, I fasted and prayed that the rules would change, or my desire for one would go away. I scoured the handbook and read everything on LDS.org that the brethren had said about tattoos (there isn’t much). When I began to have some nuance in my life, I grabbed onto the difference between “doctrine” and “policy”, and I investigated past cultural and arbitrary policies in the church. I even emailed with my bishop in a desperate attempt for permission. He told me I wouldn’t have to meet with him about a tattoo and reiterated that it wouldn’t keep me out of the temple. Though he did warn me, “it could lead to other actions and/or attitudes and that’s what would concern me”. This interaction helped me accept it was my own decision, and I had to learn to trust in myself more than I trusted in the church. I began to see how the church had owned my body, and how I wanted my body to be mine.

I marinated on what to do for another year, then in 2021 at age twenty-three, I went on a road trip with my friends. On our way home I got a tattoo in Winnemucca, Nevada, of all places, holding my friends’ hand. I had chosen a small house on the inside of my elbow because I loved the design and loved all ideas of home. For the next few weeks, I would look down at it and smile. I felt happy I had done it, and never felt one moment of guilt. I wasn’t surprised I did not feel guilty, probably because I’d thought about doing it for years and I’d grown in my relationships with the Divine and with myself. I knew in my heart I had NOT done anything wrong. 

With the new For the Strength of Youth’s lack of mentioning tattoos, possibilities open for members to make the choice to get one if they want. There might be judgment, but at least they can say it isn’t in the For the Strength of Youth booklet. I could joke now that no one ruminated as much as I about getting a 2-inch tattoo, but knowing what church I grew up in, I’m sure that’s not the case.

It’s been written about often, how our church does not do reconciliation or apologies. On the list of items the church hasn’t apologized for, the lack of acknowledgment for my struggle to get a tattoo is last on the list. But for me, it took years to come to a place where I felt I could do it. I feared breaking a commandment, I anxiously worried about my pioneer-descendent extended family’s disapproval, the example I was for my siblings, and judgement from other members. I want that documented and known.

Kameron Abilla is an applied gender studies graduate student in Claremont, California.

This post is part of our #MyFSY series. To participate in the series, send submissions to morewomenplease at gmail dot com.