The Return of Inchunwa: Native Women Bring Back Facial Tattoos — And They Mean Way More Than You Think

Traditions don’t die — they just nap. And then they wake up with a podcast, a tattoo needle, and a mission.

Faithlyn Taloa Seawright — former Chickasaw Princess and Miss Indian Oklahoma 2024 — recently did something most people only talk about: she tattooed her face. But not for aesthetics, fashion or clout. This was inchunwa — a sacred tradition rooted in the identity of Southeastern Indigenous peoples of the U.S., now returning with purpose, pride, and yes, ink.

 

 

What’s inchunwa and why it’s not just a “design”

In the Choctaw and Chickasaw languages, inchunwa means “to be marked.” These tattoos once adorned the faces, hands and bodies of people from tribes like Choctaw, Chickasaw, and Cherokee — until colonization tried to erase them, along with a lot of other “inconvenient” culture.

But The Inchunwa Project — a collective of Indigenous artists, researchers, and community members — is bringing this powerful form of expression back to life. And make no mistake: this isn’t just about skin. It’s about story, spirit, and survival.

Lines on fingers, on faces, and from the heart

Faithlyn wears six lines on her fingers — not just because it looks cool (although it does), but because each one stands for something: a personal vow to grow, a tribute to siblings no longer with her, and a marker honoring thousands of missing and murdered Indigenous women.

Her new ink? Facial tattoos. Two vertical lines on each side of her mouth: one marking her as an adult woman, the other noting she doesn’t yet have children. Once she does — she’ll add a third. Grandchildren? Four. Think of it as a status update, only in skin, not pixels.

 

 

Less spa, more spirit

“When I was getting tattooed,” Faithlyn says, “people stood with me. They reminded me to breathe. Told me it’s okay to cry. Gave me water. That’s what made it sacred — not just the ink.”

Inchunwa tattoos can be applied with handpoke methods or tattoo machines — it’s up to the wearer. Faithlyn chose machine ink, and insists that doesn’t make her tattoos less traditional. It’s not about the tool. It’s about the intention.

Podcasts, festivals, and one little girl who got it instantly

The Inchunwa Project originally began as an idea: walk the Trail of Tears and receive tattoos at the end. But real life (and logistics) had other plans. So it became something bigger: podcasts, online meetups, research deep-dives, and community festivals.

At one such festival in Oklahoma, surrounded by music, community and firelight, inchunwa came to life again. Real stories, real ink, real connection.

And then there was the moment that made it all worth it: Faithlyn’s two-year-old niece touched her aunt’s tattooed face and smiled. No questions, no judgment — just recognition.

 

 

Culture isn’t a relic. It’s right now

“I was raised to believe nothing dies,” Faithlyn says. “Our dances, songs, tattoos — they just go to sleep. Someone has to wake them back up.” And that, frankly, says it all.

A few things you might not know:

• Traditional Indigenous tattoos were once done with fish teeth and bone (don’t try this at home).
  • Ancient motifs come from pottery, shell carvings — even handwoven baskets.
  • Inchunwa isn’t “body art” — it’s a language the skin speaks. And yes, it’s beautiful.

Want a tattoo that speaks for you?
Maybe it’s not about the latest font — but about the story you’re ready to tell.