‘I want to tattoo in a way that disrespects the status quo.’ A Q&A with Philly hajichi revivalist and tattoo artist Mona Maruyama

How many people can say they’re in a 13-person worldwide collective of people doing their specific job? Or that folks travel from all over to work with them? Most of us certainly can’t, but Mona Maruyama, a tattoo artist at Floating World Tattoos in Center City, can.

Maruyama does hajichi, a traditional style of permanent body markings reserved for Okinawan women. It is said that hajichi offers protection and spiritual connection to their ancestors. “[It] is a constant reminder of the land we wish to defend,” Maruyama said.

The community of hajichi artists, or hajichaa, keeps in touch via group chat, holds meetups, and has a website dedicated to providing information and resources surrounding hajichi. They are members of the Ryukyuan diaspora and aim to encourage the revival of the hajichi ritual and tradition.

This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.

I got into giving hajichi to members of the diaspora after hearing members of the community encouraging Ryukyuan artists to begin practicing and looking into supporting the cultural revival effort.

Hajichi is a closed tattoo practice reserved for Okinawan people that was banned by the Japanese government in 1899. Hajichi is one of the many words we have to describe tattoos traditionally worn on the hands of women and the term differs from island to island.

The reasons have changed over time and some of the meaning behind the symbolism has been erased and the information we do have is unfortunately a mere snapshot of the tail end of the thousands-of-years-long tradition, typically recorded by outsiders.

Based on what we know, many of our symbols are based on our land and culture, mostly nature, like flowers, stars, inside of turtle shells. But as a collective, we’ve also discussed the similarities in some of the designs and shapes with sound waves of certain frequencies.

It protects against invaders and colonizers. It’s a kidnapping deterrent because it’s a marker of who you are and where your family is from.

With everything going on right now, people are speaking up and rising up against imperial aggression. It reminds me of what my people have gone through, just at different periods of time. America’s role in Palestine, at this point, is trying to build more military infrastructure. And in Okinawa, 20% of it is U.S. military bases. It’s fenced off.

Most of us are diaspora. It’s no way for people to live.

I want to tattoo in a way that disrespects the status quo because the status quo has never served the global majority. To decolonize our skin, what I mean is no more accepting being disrespected in the process of getting tattooed by rejecting colonial Eurocentric American values when choosing a design or artist.

My biggest tattoo dream, other than the current dream to continue reviving hajichi, is to help establish a tattoo collective with shared values in Philly that is centered around ensuring people of color of all backgrounds feel honored and welcome. I want to create a space that is welcomed by the local community.

Ultimately I would love to open a shop in the northwest end of Tokyo where my grandma lives, because that’s where most of my family lives and I would love to be closer to them.

My grandma hates the idea of me opening a shop anywhere near her, but it would be cute and that’s why I want to do it.

She loves that I tattoo, she doesn’t care that I am tattooed. She’s very much of the mindset of, “I’ve met so many people, you think your tattoos are gonna bother me?”