Inked Without Fear: A Cherry Bomb guide to getting tattooed or pierced when you’re living with HIV
Living with HIV doesn’t sideline your style. You still get to claim every inch of skin with ink or jewelry, and nobody gets to tell you otherwise. This is how we keep it safe, smash the stigma, and make sure your rights stay intact.
Safety first, always
Universal precautions. We glove up, barrier wrap our gear, and treat every setup like a mini-surgery. That protects you and us equally.
Single use everything. Needles, ink caps, razors, paper towels. Opened in front of you, tossed the second we’re done.
Autoclave sterilization. Anything metal that touches skin gets cooked under high-pressure steam until it is cleaner than a hospital scalpel.
Hospital-grade disinfectant on chairs, tables, bottles, and cords after every client.
Licensed pros who study blood-borne pathogens. NYC requires it, and we nerd out on new guidelines anyway.
The CDC has never logged a single HIV transmission from a professional tattoo or piercing. With protocols like these, your status is not an issue.
Stigma? Not in our shop
Fear of HIV in body-art spaces sticks around because some folks stopped reading science in the 90s. HIV doesn’t jump off clean skin, and it sure won’t teleport through barrier. If an artist refuses you, that says more about their training than your blood. We’ll welcome you, no weird questions, no side-eye.
Know your rights
Under the Americans with Disabilities Act, a studio cannot kick you out or up charge you because you live with HIV. Full stop. You don’t have to disclose your status. If you choose to share, that info stays private. Anyone who denies you service is breaking federal law and can catch fines for it.
Own your body
Tattoos can mark milestones, piercings can reclaim space, and both can feel like armor. Maybe you want a new tattoo or maybe you just want a fresh nostril stud. Whatever the vibe, it’s valid.
HEALING TIME
Modern meds keep viral loads undetectable, so heal times look the same as anybody else. If you have other health stuff going on, chat with a doc first, but HIV alone isn’t a blocker.
Handling pushback: quick scripts and next steps
Stay steady. Take a breath and keep your voice calm. You did nothing wrong and the science is on your side.
Check what they really mean. Ask: “Can you explain why you need that?” Often they parrot old myths. Getting them to say it out loud shows the problem is on their end, not yours.
Educate with receipts. “The CDC says there has never been a documented HIV transmission from a professional tattoo or piercing. Universal precautions cover everyone.” Offer to pull up the CDC page on your phone, but you are not obligated to teach them if you do not feel like it.
Push back on the doctor’s-note request. “A doctor’s clearance is not required for HIV. My physician and the ADA both say standard shop safety is enough.” If you have a letter handy and want to share it, fine. If not, remind them that asking for one singles you out and is discriminatory.
Invoke your rights. “Refusing service because of HIV status violates the Americans with Disabilities Act. Are you sure you want to go that route?” Say it plainly and politely. Many shops backtrack fast once they hear “ADA.”
Decide whether to stay or walk. If they dig in, thank them for their time and leave. You deserve a studio that respects you. Snap a photo of the storefront or take a business card. Note dates, names, and what was said.
Report it if you choose. File a complaint with the local health department or the Department of Justice Civil Rights Division. You can also leave a factual public review so others know.
Find a better artist. Look for queer-affirming or HIV-friendly studios that advertise universal precautions and nondiscrimination policies up front. Word-of-mouth in HIV support groups or LGBTQ+ social spaces is gold for safe referrals.
Bottom line: You are never required to prove you deserve body art. The law and the science are already on your side.
The Cherry Bomb promise
We’re queer-run, trans-positive, punk as hell, and dead serious about hygiene. The machines buzz, the playlist slaps, the needles are sterile, and the attitudes are inclusive. Walk in whenever you’re ready to wear your story. We’ll have a clean chair waiting.