I recently explained to my partner the meaning behind a Medusa tattoo. He had seen a few before in passing, but didn’t know the significance. He was shocked by the reference made by this kind of ink.
Typically, a Medusa tattoo references an experience with gender-based violence, namely rape. Just as Medusa herself was harmed by the gods and mortals around her, forcing her to become someone who could turn advancers to stone, the women with Medusa tattoos purport themselves to be hardened by male violence. Their ink professes a stony end for the men in their periphery: this girl will end your life with only a look.
Medusa is a prayer just as much as Medusa is a promise. That’s what Girl Tattoos tend to be: A reference to patriarchal pain wrapped in layers of meaning. While I don’t have my own Medusa, it’s something I’ve thought about—on a necklace, or a bracelet, or a notebook. The commonality of the Medusa image on my fellow woman doesn’t make me cringe; a room full of Medusa tattoos would actually make me feel flanked. This is a room of women who promise themselves, in the dead of night, that next time will be different.
Medusa tells me that this woman is brave.
blood and guts, or womanhood and pain?
I had been thinking of my a different Girl Tattoo for a long while: not Medusa, but a pomegranate. I knew this design was popular, but I looked forward to the flanked feeling of finding other pomegranates out in the wild. Kind of like the Medusa.
I had seen TikTok poetry and single-slide, Times-New-Roman-font images about the beauty and violence of serving a pomegranate. On one hand, women on TikTok claim the pomegranate to be a symbol of women’s work, or perhaps her love. Where a man may pummel the fruit, a woman carefully opens it and takes out every seed. And all that. On the other, the appearance of blood on one’s hands after peeling a pomegranate seems to emulate violence? Periods? Men’s blood? A variety of things, but it always comes back to womanhood and the womb.
There also appears to be crossover between the understandings of a Medusa and a pomegranate tattoo. Maybe she’s a victim, or maybe she considers herself a survivor of sexual violence. Maybe she sees the patient love of womanhood to be something she offered too much of. Or perhaps the pomegranate, to a woman who has tattooed it on her skin, simply symbolizes the sharing inherent in the fruit. Between family, between friends, and with people you love.
From my subscriber chat:
“Pomegranate symbolizes, life, fertility, and regeneration, and has historically represented power, sacredness, and the divine and various religious, myths, and initiatory traditions. It is widely known as the fruit that was given to Persephone by Hades in the Elusinian mysteries of Greek mythology. But it is also a sacred fruit in many of the countries in the Levant and western Asia. It is widely associated with women’s fertility and sexuality in many of these regions as well.” — Jennifer Rivera
“my cousin [has a pomegranate tattoo] and it’s a tattoo for childhood, transition, and family for her. We spent a lot of time around pomegranate trees growing up + a symbol of our grandmother. Hers is one cut and then she has a couple seeds, one for each of her siblings!”
“I have a large mainly black work pomegranate tattoo on my left hip -- a small sliver of skin is cut and seeds bursting out are the only point of color, each seed their signature rich pink. I got it for the symbolism of my relationship with my mom. Pomegranate was her favorite fruit as a kid and I would hear about her running through their neighborhood in southern California to pick and eat pomegranates from a neighbors yard, returning home with magenta stained hands and a full tummy. Our relationship is a strained one. She had me at 17 and I was mainly raised by my grandparents. When my birth dad died at 31, as I was in 5th grade, I was (and continue to be) befuddled by her lack of emotional maturity and maternal instincts. The potential, seeds, of our relationship never really came to fruition, though still beautiful and rich when I was younger and oblivious to the limitations of our connection. This is in addition to pomegranates generally symbolizing fertility, “womanhood”, nourishment. It’s my favorite tattoo.”
It’s clear the pomegranate is symbolic to many of us, and for good reason. The anar has been a vital piece of Mediterranean, West Asian, and South asian cultures since ancient times. But the supposed ‘carnage’ left once a pomegranate is peeled seems to simulate gore for some, sex for others.
Let me be fair: it’s not only Americans who see a pussy where a pomegranate should be. When tabling at a Yalda Market in Washington DC—vending stickers to celebrate Shab-e Yalda, the Zoroastrian holiday which heavily features pomegranates—a Persian mom asked me quizzically if I wanted my pomegranate stickers to be so “graphic.” She claimed they simulated a vulva. I was tabling on behalf of an abortion fund, so it was a fair question. But my answer was no. The point of my design was to highlight the sharing necessary when eating pomegranate. Sometimes, though, all people could see was the flesh.
I enjoy most readings of a pomegranate tattoo. I don’t mind seeing other pomegranates out: in red and black and green ink, on wrists and shoulders and legs and backs, on people who all look completely different. But it’s also nice to know, from my own experience, that every pomegranate tattoo has its unique story.
Because of this, I wanted to share some.
“i always think of my dad as the original hipster, because he loves saying things like, “back before pomegranates were popular here, we used to eat them.” and it’s true, iranians and other countries in the region have cherished this fruit for centuries. it’s in popular iranian soups and dishes like fesenjoon. it’s also used for one of my most loved candy treats, sour lavashak (og dried fruit leather).
cutting open and seeding a pomegranate is a labor of love, a messy but worthwhile endeavor. growing up, my mom would give me the seeds in a bowl with a spoon and i would finish it in minutes. correctly sliced and pulled open, it delivers a satiating crunchy sound. it requires patience to pull apart and separate the fibers, section by section, and unearth every individual gem (some consider it bad luck to leave any seed behind, they are nicknamed gems after all). it provides a burst of tart juiciness and packs in a host of vitamins and antioxidants that are just what we tend to need during the winter months when the fruit is harvested, as nature provides for us.
it’s also symbolic in the persian tradition of celebrating shabē yalda, or the winter solstice. warding off bad spirits that come out at night by gathering with friends and family, talking and playing games while enjoying seasonal fruits and nuts, and sipping on hot tea. it’s also tradition to burn red candles, wear something red, and have red fruits, including pomegranate and watermelon, to symbolize vitality and life in the middle of the cold, grey winter. needless to say, these little gems give me life during this season and my pom tattoo is my most complimented one.”
