I’m Not a Gang Member. I’m a Soccer Mom, and I Have Tattoos

By Lynn Tramonte

You may have guessed it already, but I’m not a gang member. I am a literal soccer mom from Ohio, but I have tattoos.

I got my first tattoo after my sister and best friend, Mary, died in 2014. Some of her friends started the trend, inking her signature “XO, Mary” on their ankles and wrists. My other sister and brother, mom, several aunts, and even my ex-husband all got Mary-inspired tattoos — including the Reiki symbol Cho Ku Rei, which she gravitated toward during her cancer journey.

Since then I’ve added a silver dollar tree branch, representing childhood memories playing in my grandparents’ backyard, and two types of eucalyptus that I just think are beautiful. I also have my kids’ signatures on my right shoulder.

Our family tattoos honoring Mary Tramonte.

Every time I feel the need to get a tattoo, it’s like my skin is itching. I want that pain, because it makes me feel powerful. I have survived.

I’ve noticed that my urge for tattoos is also connected to the Trump administration. In my role as Executive Director of the Ohio Immigrant Alliance, I spend a lot of time talking to people in immigration jail, their loved ones, and people trying to figure out their lives after deportation. I listen to their grief and sorrow, and we try to help. I hear about people’s bodies being brutalized in immigration arrests, detention, and the deportation process. I hear about homelessness, despair, fractured relationships, illnesses, and even suicides directly related to their detention and deportation experiences.

I’ve added to my body art primarily during years that Donald Trump is in power. It’s an external representation of internal pain.

So when the second Trump administration started rounding up people born in Venezuela and sending them to a terrifying prison in El Salvador, simply because of their tattoos, I got angry. How dare they try to take something beautiful, and make it a sin? As news stories about the people who were sent to CECOT accelerated, we learned their tattoos were symbols of beauty and love. They represent their families, goals, and favorite sports teams. Humanity.

The silver dollar tree on my left forearm.

Criminalizing people for having tattoos is not a new idea. Police agencies have done it for years, and the practice is criticized for many reasons, including its racist application. The Trump administration’s attacks on Venezuelans with tattoos is just one of the most recent and large scale applications.

In 2025, Ohio Immigrant Alliance worked with a man who was arrested in the early morning hours, outside of his home in Columbus, by the FBI and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). His “crime”? Being Venezuelan and having tattoos. He was in the United States with Temporary Protected Status. He came to work and send money back to his family. Upon his arrest, the man immediately feared being sent to the CECOT gulag that had been all over the news. We were able to help him, and he obtained voluntary departure to his home country, Venezuela.

During the process of being fingerprinted by ICE, he told us, an agent in the Westerville office rolled up his own sleeve to show this man that they had the same tattoo. The agent apparently didn’t see the irony, but our friend did. They had arrested him because of a tattoo that the agent himself proudly wore. It held symbolic meaning for both of them. Nothing nefarious.

Based on all of these experiences my organization, the Ohio Immigrant Alliance, launched the Brave Of Us Tattoo Design Contest in March 2026. We are inviting tattoo artists and apprentices to express what it looks like to be in solidarity with immigrants at this moment in history. The contest’s themes include Family & Love; Freedom & Safety; Bravery & Strength; Unity Across Differences; and Reclaiming Identity & Culture.

Our tattoos have meaning. They represent family, faith, and other parts of our lives. Tattoos also transcend cultures, races, languages, and backgrounds — as was made clear in that Westerville ICE office.

We won’t let the Trump administration and other police agencies tell us what our tattoos mean. We’re holding this contest to reclaim their symbolism and our right to express ourselves on our bodies.

Lynn Tramonte is director of the Ohio Immigrant Alliance. This story first appeared on her Medium page. Learn more about the Brave Of Us Tattoo Design Contest at ohioimmigrant.org/braveofus. Entries are due June 30, 2026.

Feature image via Flickr