Hebrew Tattoos and Jewish visibility [as if October 7 never happened]
Jewish visibility
Over the last two decades, I have had the opportunity to create tattoo designs for well over 2000 Jews, along with numerous Christians, across all five continents. It has been an incredible journey, one that has allowed me to leave my mark in diverse corners of the world. Every point you see on the map represents a location where someone has chosen to wear a piece of my artwork on their skin, often tattooed by some of the finest tattoo artists in the industry. I find it fascinating to think about the geographical spread of these stories, all linked by one common element: the timeless beauty and power of Hebrew letters.
As such, Hebrew Tattoos is an ongoing art project. A work on thousands of canvases, spreading over decades.
Each tattoo tells a deeply personal story, yet all are bound by the use of Hebrew script, which is the heart of my work. The simplicity of Hebrew letters, and of letters in general, is striking, but I choose to use that simplicity as a starting point to dig deeper. When I sit down with someone and hear their story, I’m not just designing an image; I’m distilling their life, their heritage, and their sense of identity into the elegant curves and angles of our language.
Over time, I’ve come to realize that Jewish visibility is a recurring theme for many of my clients, particularly among those who identify as secular, Reform, or Reconstructionist Jews. This need for visibility in the context of our collective identityis something that resonates deeply with me as well.
Jewish identity has always been a complex and evolving concept. Historically, collective identity has been shaped largely by the perceptions of others. This mirrors Erving Goffman’s theory of “the presentation of self,” where individuals perform roles in society based on the feedback they receive from others. In many ways, our understanding of ourselves is influenced by how we are seen and recognized by the world around us. This reflective process, where we view ourselves through the eyes of others, plays a crucial role in shaping who we are. But what happens when an essential part of that identity is invisible to the outside world? When others cannot recognize or acknowledge something as fundamental as our Jewish heritage, that reflective process is disrupted. This can create a sense of disconnect between who we are internally and how we are perceived externally.
A few generations ago, this wasn’t an issue. Jewish identity was much more visible. We were marked by our traditional garb—whether it was the Kippah worn by men or the Shtreimel worn by some Hasidic Jews. In more troubling times, we were marked by yellow badges forced upon us during darker periods of history. As Michel Foucault’s theory of power suggests, societal control is often exercised through visibility and categorization—making visible certain characteristics in order to subject them to scrutiny or control, both voluntarily and involuntarily. We lived largely within our own communities, where Jewish identity was never questioned because it was omnipresent. For many, the struggle of identity was less about visibility and more about the tension between tradition and modernity, with some Jews choosing to assimilate in order to blend in with the broader society. But for most, the markers of Jewish identity were clear and visible, woven into the fabric of daily life.
In today’s world, the situation has changed dramatically. We live in an individualistic society where identity, especially collective identity, is something we must actively pursue and cultivate. Charles Taylor discusses this in his work on the “politics of recognition,” emphasizing that identity is shaped by acknowledgment from others. If a key aspect of identity, like Jewishness, goes unrecognized, it can hinder self-realization. For many Jews, especially those who don’t wear traditional markers of faith like a Kippah or a Tallit katan, the question of visibility becomes more pressing. How do we signal to the world that we are Jewish in a way that feels authentic to us? In an age where personal expression is paramount, many of us seek ways to outwardly manifest our Jewishness, not only for ourselves but also for others to see. This is where the tattoo comes in.
For many people, getting a tattoo is an intensely personal experience, a way to mark something significant in their lives. For Jews, a tattoo in Hebrew is more than just a personal mark; it is a statement of identity, heritage, and pride. In a world where our Jewishness can easily go unnoticed, a tattoo is a deliberate act of visibility. It says, “I am here, I am Jewish, and I am proud of it.” While a tattoo may not be the most traditional form of Jewish expression [to say the least], it is still a way for us to reclaim visibility in a modern context.
The process of choosing to get a Jewish tattoo, and specifically one in Hebrew, is often an expression of a deeper journey toward understanding and embracing one’s Jewish identity. For many of my clients, this decision is not taken lightly. It’s not just about getting a tattoo; it’s about making a statement about who they are and where they come from. It’s about confronting the complexities of modern Jewish identity and finding a way to integrate their heritage into their personal narrative in a way that feels meaningful to them.
In many ways, this pursuit of visibility is a response to the broader questions of Jewish identity in the modern world. As Jews, we no longer live in insular communities where our identity is a given. We interact daily with people of different backgrounds and faiths, and in these interactions, our Jewishness can sometimes feel invisible. For those who choose to tattoo Hebrew letters on their skin, it’s a way of asserting that part of themselves in a visible and permanent way. It’s a way of saying, “I will not let my Jewishness be hidden.”
Judith Butler’s theory of performativity, which emphasizes the repeated, active construction of identity, offers another way of understanding the decision to get a tattoo. In a way, tattoos are a form of performative identity—through the act of tattooing, one is repeatedly affirming and displaying their Jewish identity in a highly visible manner. It’s a conscious way of continuously “doing” one’s Jewishness, rather than letting it remain latent or invisible.
Ultimately, a tattoo is just one way to mark oneself as a Jew in today’s world, but it’s a powerful one. It’s a visible, lasting declaration of identity, and in an age where visibility matters more than ever, it’s an attempt to reconnect with something fundamental. Each tattoo is a step towards reclaiming Jewish visibility, one Hebrew letter at a time.
