Walking down the commercial corridor of Seneca Avenue, I sat down with an older community member, Mina. As he gestured with his hands while speaking, I caught a glimpse of the small, blue Coptic cross permanently inked into his inner wrist. This wasn't a trendy fashion choice chosen in adulthood. Mina received this tattoo as an infant in Egypt, a centuries-old tradition marking Christian identity in a land where religious belonging can never be assumed.

"When I packed my bags to move to New York," Mina told me, looking down at his arm, "I had to leave behind my house, my language, and my friends. But this mark is something I could never leave behind. It traveled with me across the ocean."

Unlike an accent that can fade, or clothes that can be changed to fit into American society, this tattoo is completely irreversible. Mina carries it into every Queens workplace, every public subway car, and every interaction with strangers. In Egypt, it was a marker of a localized minority identity. But here in New York, it has transformed into an anchor of stability. For me, Mina's wrist proves that our skin can hold a living archive of where we come from, serving as a permanent reminder that no matter how much the world changes around us, our roots remain unshakeable.

– OT

Relationship:  Im/migrant Im/migrant