INK OF MY IDENTITY.

            A journey of a marked soul

“The Ink Behind the Smile: A Tribal Mark of My Journey”

Two years ago, when I stepped into the bustling world of Makerere University to pursue my dream of becoming a journalist, I also made a bold personal decision—one that would leave a permanent mark not just on my skin, but on my identity.

                   Tattoo Admirer .

I had always admired Tiwa Savage—not just for her voice and stage presence, but for her fearless expression. One thing about her that captivated me was her tattoo. It wasn’t just fashion—it was art, attitude, and self-ownership. That’s what inspired me to finally get the tattoo I had been thinking about for a long time.

Unlike Tiwa’s, mine is a tribal tattoo—a design deeply rooted in African heritage. I didn’t just want something trendy; I wanted something that connected me to my roots, something powerful. Tribal tattoos carry meaning. They are stories told in ink, lines that speak of strength, identity, and transformation. For me, it symbolized a rite of passage—from the girl I was, to the woman I was becoming.

                         Studio Hour.

      Sketch.                          Original

                     

The way l was so excited to have , even l didn’t hear the pain . I was like finally l have it now.

I got it while I was staying in the hostel—my first taste of freedom from home. I remember walking into the tattoo studio, nervous yet determined. The buzzing sound of the machine, the prickling sensation on my skin—it was all worth it when I saw the final design. It was bold, beautiful, and undeniably me.

But being a young African woman with a tattoo—especially a tribal one—is not seen the same way by everyone.

At campus, I quickly got used to the stares and whispers.

“That’s a big tattoo for a girl like her.”
“She must be wild.”
“What will her parents say?”

It’s funny how people judge what they don’t understand. In our culture, girls are expected to be modest, obedient, and to follow the path their parents laid out. Tattoos? That’s not part of the plan—especially not for someone still under their parents’ watch.

That’s where the fear comes in. My mother doesn’t know I have the tattoo. And I know the day she finds out, it won’t be easy. Not because she doesn’t love me, but because she believes in the values passed down from generation to generation. For her, tattoos are a sign of rebellion. She won’t see the meaning behind it at first. She’ll see disappointment, maybe even shame.

But what she doesn’t know is that this tattoo represents everything I’ve grown into—courage, independence, and the spirit of storytelling that drew me to journalism in the first place. It’s a reminder that I own my journey and that I can honour my culture while also carving out my own voice.

This tribal tattoo is more than decoration. It is a bridge between who I was, who I am, and who I am becoming. Even with the gossip, even with the fear of disappointing my mother—I don’t regret it. Not one bit.

Because this ink tells my story.

            “Evey Line Tells a Legacy”