Tattoo artists need more than needles and ink in South Carolina. They also need measuring tape. The state prohibits tattoo shops from operating within 1,000 feet of churches, schools and playgrounds. Columbia adds even more restrictions.
The city passed an ordinance in 2019 that bans any tattoo enterprise from operating within 1,000 feet of an existing body piercing or tattoo parlor. The result is a series of 360-degree exclusion zones around qualifying establishments, each covering more than 3.1 million square feet — roughly the size of 53 football fields.
As a result, much of Columbia is off limits for Stephanie Melora, a tattoo artist with dreams of expanding her company, Southern Cypress Tattoo, across the street from her current shop. Melora already pays rent at the second location, but the property sits vacant because it falls within the exclusion zone around her existing shop. She petitioned the Columbia City Council for an exemption on Jan. 17, 2023, and the Office of Economic Development is exploring the issue.
As Melora waits, she loses money. Her business already took a hit during the COVID-19 pandemic, which forced her to close for several weeks. Now she is stuck again. But this time the cause is not a virus. It’s arbitrary government interference.
South Carolina has a long history of singling out tattoo parlors, which were illegal in the state until 2004 reforms took effect about two years later. The only jurisdiction that waited longer was Oklahoma. Now policymakers are using zoning laws to continue the separate and unequal treatment of tattoo parlors, once perceived as seedy establishments that invite blight.
Melora blows up the stereotype. Her clients include doctors, lawyers and other professionals. Breast cancer survivors also come to her shop, seeking designs to celebrate their healing. Melora supports state-imposed standards to protect the health and safety of all these clients.
South Carolina requires tattoo artists to complete annual training on infection and bloodborne pathogen control, and she agrees with the oversight. But she wants freedom to grow her business without unnecessary zoning restrictions. “Instead of fighting with regulators just to exist, we should be working together to make tattooing safe and accessible,” she says.
Other entrepreneurs in multiple industries face similar restrictions nationwide. Consciously or not, many policymakers prefer living in communities that match their values. Zoning laws work well for this purpose. But blue-collar workers, entrepreneurs, immigrants, artists and lower-income families sometimes get left behind.
Our public interest law firm, the Institute for Justice, has seen just about everything.
Zoning officials in Mauldin, South Carolina, tried to shut down Jeremy Sark’s U-Haul franchise in 2022 because they thought his rental trucks were ugly. They did not care that his property was well-maintained and well-situated among similar businesses, including a swimming pool repair company, an autobody shop and a car rental business.
Cindy Tucker faced similar discrimination in Calhoun, Georgia. When her nonprofit organization, Tiny House Hand Up, sought government permission in 2021 to build 600-square-foot homes on its own land for working residents with lower incomes, opponents raised concerns about “riffraff” invading their space. Using zoning laws that prohibit the construction of smaller houses, the city blocked the development.
Other zoning crackdowns have targeted food trucks in Illinois and elsewhere, a flower cart in Georgia and a gym in California. Officials in Lakeway, Texas, even tried shutting down Bianca King’s home-based daycare because golfers did not like seeing play equipment behind a backyard fence near the eighth hole of a local course.
None of these cases involve concerns about health or safety. Yet the zoning police meddle anyway. They threaten penalties if people cross regulatory boundaries, but code enforcers routinely cross constitutional boundaries that ensure property rights.
Even without the constitutional concerns, blocking honest labor makes little sense—especially during tough economic times. If anything, cities should be making things easier, not harder, for entrepreneurs.
Melora’s goal is to create jobs, serve customers and give back to her community. The last thing she needs is a drawn-out legal battle involving measuring tape. Rather than covering her in bureaucratic ink, the zoning police should get out of her way and let her work.
Erica Smith Ewing is a senior attorney and Daryl James is a writer at the Institute for Justice in Arlington, Virginia.
