When Apo Whang-Od began tattooing in the early 1930s, it would have been difficult to imagine her work’s influence on her tiny village of Buscalan, in the Kalinga region of the Philippines, over 90 years later.

Batok, Indigenous tattoos of the Philippines, can be traced back thousands of years, but the practice faded under Spanish colonialism when many Filipinos were converted to Christianity. Kalinga was one of the few remote regions where the traditional practice continued. Yet, despite its remote setting, a 12-hour drive from Manila, today, thousands of tourists from across the globe descend on the remote village each month in the hope of receiving one of Whang-Od’s signature hand tapped tattoos, three dots symbolizing the three generations of mambabatoks, or tattoo artists, in her family.

Whang-Od, now 108 years old, is a part of a growing community of women around the globe who are reviving both traditional tattoos and tattoo methods and reclaiming lost cultural practices that were on the brink of extinction. Following her appearance on the Discovery Channel’s “Tattoo Hunter” in 2009, when tattoo anthropologist Dr. Lars Krutak visited the region, media attention around her practice and the Province of Kalinga grew.

Krutak is the executive producer of the new documentary “Treasure of the Rice Terraces,” which highlights Whang-Od’s upbringing and rise in Filipino tattoo culture, the history and significance of Kalinga tattoos, and the evolution of perceptions of tattooed people. Today, he explains, tens of women in the village trained under Whang-Od work as tattoo artists, all of whom eschew modern tattoo machinery and instead use a single lemon thorn to hand tap tattoos in the time-honored method. The tattoo ink is made of charcoal and water, and a long bamboo stick is attached to the citrus thorn, which is then used to tap the ink deeply into the skin.

Tapping into Culture

The history of female tattoos and artists is a rich and storied tapestry. Images of women in ancient Greece with sleeve tattoos have been dated to the 5th century B.C. Mummies from Ancient Egypt have also been discovered with tattoos, and in Alaska, Gwich’in tattoos can be traced back over 10,000 years. However, under colonization, in many of the Indigenous cultures across the world where tattoos were prevalent, the practice faded and was often banned or became taboo.

Jody Potts-Joseph is part of a growing group of women in Alaska revitalizing Yidįįłtoo, traditional face tattoos of Hän Gwich’in women. The Hän Gwich’in are a matriarchal people, and women hold and pass down power and influence.

When she inked her first tattoo, Potts-Joseph says she felt a wave of emotions. Slightly nervous, yes, as expected with any first-time tattoo artist, but it was also a powerful and healing experience. That her first client was her 14-year-old daughter Quannah Chasinghorse and she was inking her in a coming-of-age ceremony with Hän Gwich’in markings made the experience all the more profound.

Despite the long history of these tattoos, the U.S. federal government established the Courts of Indian Offenses Act in 1883, which outlawed Native American cultural and religious ceremonies and practices in a bid to force Christian practices and beliefs upon Indigenous people. Tattoos like Yidįįłtoo all but disappeared for almost 100 years.

As with Whang-Od, increased media attention has brought greater awareness and appreciation of the tattoos and their cultural significance to the wider public. Quannah is a fashion model and activist who has appeared on the cover of “Vogue” magazine and walked the catwalks of Ralph Lauren and Gucci. There is a thin line between inspiration and appropriation, and there has also been an increase in people copying her tattoos, some of whom are not Indigenous.

Potts-Joseph says it is important for people to be aware that these tattoos are not fashion symbols or trends, but important cultural symbols. They need to understand how these practices were derived and realize the sacred and meaningful significance of these tattoos. Understandably, for this reason, her traditional tattoo practice does not extend to the non-Indigenous.

Similarly, in Kalinga culture, the tattoos are believed to have deep meaning. For men, they were most commonly associated with headhunting, but the markings symbolized beauty and fertility for women. Childless women, it is said, went on to give birth after being tattooed by Whang-Od — her tattoos were often accompanied by spiritual words in a ceremonial ritual.

Krutak, whose book “Indigenous Tattoo Traditions: Humanity through Skin and Ink” was published in May, says today the tattooing process itself has mostly separated from the ancestral context for non-Kalinga individuals.

Most of the women working as tattoo artists in Buscalan, Krutak says, work from a whole new line of tattoos — akin to sheets of flash — that were developed for the tourists visiting the region. Although they use the original method of hand tapping with a lemon thorn, the tattoos themselves are inspired by, rather than being taken directly from, the traditional repertoire of Kalinga tattoos, which were associated with cultural identity and crossing certain thresholds in life.

Five thousand miles away in New Zealand, the multi-disciplined artist Julie Paama-Pengelly, has been tattooing since the 1990s, specializing in tā moko, the ancient Māori tattooing practice. As with Yidįįłtoo, receiving moko constituted important rites of passage and benchmark achievements in a person’s life. Moko kauae is a traditional Māori chin and lip tattoo for women, and is symbolic of a woman’s identity, her place within her community, and is informed by her ancestry.

Paama-Pengelly explains how tā moko was banned under British colonialism. The 1907 Tohunga Suppression Act outlawed much of the teaching and practice of Māori culture. Even today, prejudices remain. As recently as 2019, Air New Zealand prohibited employees from displaying tā moko, highlighting the importance of Paama-Pengelly’s work as an educator of Māori culture.

Unlike some traditional artists, Paama-Pengelly has always used needles, firstly to avoid being shut down for a health and safety violation and also because, as an artist, she always wants to use the best tools she has available. Culture is always evolving, she says, and she is interested in how it operates in the current day.

The history of women and tattoos and their influence on the modern-day industry cannot be overlooked. The last two decades have ushered in new cultural norms where women with tattoos are commonplace and accepted across Western societies in a way that was unthinkable just 30 years ago. The long history of these powerful women who have engaged in the practice and, more recently, who have fought to revitalize and reinvigorate the art form in their cultures has undoubtedly helped pave the way for inked women everywhere. For that, we can all be grateful.