When God said, in Leviticus 19:28, “Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the Lord,” He obviously was not talking to the youth of today or its parents.

Every temple like an urban building has graffiti. Every eye has a teardrop. Every back, a tramp stamp. Every arm, a sleeve or fence of barbed wire. High or low, a pink rose. The whole body, from head to toe, has become the artist’s canvas. A mural.

The world is changing. There was a time when a girl would give up skating, riding her bike, and running on the streets from “mannish” boys to avoid falling and incurring the lifelong blemishes that scar precious arms, legs, or knees. Nowadays, what was once avoided, the hours of painful etchings that were once taboo for adults, is being endured by mere children, at younger and younger ages, to never more beautiful skin. With their parent’s permission.

But is it worth it and for what purpose? Some do it just to fit in, because it’s cute and trendy. Some do it to garner the same attention as their Hip Hop, sports, and entertainment idols. Others do it as tributes to “clubs” or fraternities, loved ones, cherished friends, to keep them near. All seemingly harmless reasons.

But tattoos rarely run only skin deep. There are those who admit that tattoos are addictive. The pain helps release certain unexpressed emotions, similar to the release cutters experience. I wonder if, to go with the stigma of being labeled a bad boy since that regrettable Rihanna incident, Chris Brown has set out on the same unfortunate path to illustrate feelings of alienation. I was never so disappointed at seeing his beautiful skin tatted with ink. Since he’s an incredibly gifted entertainer, fortunately, body art will never keep him from earning a living. I wonder if today’s parents in a shrinking economy are giving that any thought.

I wonder if so many young people would bother with tattoos at all—make coloring books and living murals of themselves —if just one person urged them to respect their temples. If one person would share with them that there is something truly lovely about a woman’s bare (unmarred) neck and shoulders. That less is more on any body. That healthy skin, by nature, needs no further decoration. That “plain old brown skin” is the dope every one else is fiending for. That all it needs is a little TLC. And perhaps, some Nivea. I wonder.