Marking Identity The Queer Latinx Tattoo Art of Luis Valencia

By Jorge Cruz

Tattoos have been a staple of Los Angeles counterculture for decades, from East Los punks rocking black and white skulls with mohawks on their forearms to Chicano gang members permanently marking their bodies with the names of the neighborhoods they grew up in. For many Chicanos, their ink symbolizes community, a sense of belonging and masculine identity. However, for queer Mexican-American tattoo artist Luis Valencia, tattoos are a way of expressing what it means to be both queer and Brown in spaces traditionally dominated by heteronormativity.

Growing up in LA and the Inland Empire, Valencia saw that tattoos were pervasive among the Latinx community in his working-class neighborhood. He observed tattoos of family surnames imprinted on brown skin, old-English style renderings on torsos and Nahua imagery used to honor one’s Indigenous roots. As a result, Valencia developed an early admiration for tattoos and what they could depict, realizing it was about more than just ink on skin.

“Tattoos can tell a story, a history…a moment in our lives,” Valencia said. “They encapsulate so much—it can be a source of confidence, empowerment, beauty and art.”

As a child, Valencia enjoyed art, and he was encouraged to draw often by his mother. Throughout his public-school years, art increasingly became his favorite subject. As he grew older, he learned that the creative medium could be a platform, where his feelings and emotions could come to life on a blank canvas.

Resolved to further explore his interest in art, Valencia completed two years of community college where he took painting and drawing courses.

Although he considered enrolling at the Savannah College of Art and Design, he decided to transfer to UCLA instead due to the large art scene and higher concentration of Latinx students.

Once at UCLA, he was initially intimidated by the advanced artistic ability of students who had been here since their freshman year. However, he eventually overcame his insecurities and grew confident of his own ability to prosper in the creative environment.

Valencia majored in Fine Art and took courses in ceramics, painting, art history, photography, gender studies and Chicano studies. At UCLA, he took a course on Queer Latinx Art History taught by renowned queer Chicana artist Alma Lopez. The course introduced Valencia to the diverse work of queer Latinx artists, whose art transcended traditional notions of what it means to be both queer and Latino. The class inspired Valencia to center his art from his own personal experience.

After graduating, he began to work as a tattoo artist and gave himself the artist name of Siobhan, which was inspired by the song “This Beard is for Siobhan” by Venezuelan-American musician Devendra Banhart. His art explores homoerotic desires, a topic often rendered silent and invisible in Latinx culture.

During his childhood, Valencia said his machista stepfather would often call him a p*to, a slur used to insult queer Latino men and describe someone who is perceived to be weak or engage in promiscuous sexual activity.

Likewise, Valencia recalls being bullied for being queer. Some of the neighborhood kids called him a maricón or maría, a derogatory Spanish word used to denote a homosexual man or refer to someone who deviates away from masculine norms. For Valencia, honoring his queer Latinx identity means reclaiming the words once used to hurt him and insult who he is.

“Being Latino, you grow up thinking a man should act a certain way,” Valencia reflected, “but I didn’t want that for myself. I wanted to embrace who I was… [to] reclaim these negative connotations and implement them in my work.”

Fittingly, in his Cry Baby Flash designs, the artist created a series of tattoos inspired by the prison system. Traditionally, some of the tattoos featured in the series were used in prisons to brand a homosexual man, most of which would be forcibly imprinted on an inmate’s body. The artist recreates the symbols not as markers of shame, but as a source of empowerment.

Furthermore, some of the tattoos were inspired by queer historical events in Mexican culture, such as the inclusion of the number 41 which commemorates an event that took place in Mexico City. On November 17th of 1901, police raided a private party where 41 men, half of whom were dressed femininely, were arrested for dancing with each other. The event caused such a scandal at the time, since many men in attendance came from prominent Mexican families, such as the son-in-law of then President Porfirio Diaz. In Mexican culture, the number 41 came to symbolize dishonor. As a result, the military excluded the number from battalions for a time, certain hotels did not use the unit, and many men skipped their 41st birthday out of fear of being labeled as homosexual.

Ultimately, as a queer Latinx tattoo artist, Valencia acknowledges how the profession is shifting from a white male, hetero-dominant field to one that is more inclusive of women, people of color, and queers. The artist works at a tattoo shop in LA that is woman-owned and celebrates the diversity of its artists. Valencia said that the response to his art has been overwhelmingly positive, and many Latinx queers find solace and community when they get his designs on their bodies.

His work has decidedly helped him become more comfortable embracing who he is, and he takes pride in the possible domino effect it can have on his community: “I know my younger self would feel a sense of hope, seeing a grown man proudly walking down the street sporting a fresh tattoo reading ‘Maricon.’ I wouldn’t feel so alone. That’s something I would love to give to young queer kids that may be growing up in a similar situation – a sense of hope.”

Check out more of Valencia’s work via his Instagram @ siobhansbeard.