Notes: Public place where one can be smelt, smearing the porcelain with the stain of humanity.

Growing up, I always hated using other people’s bathrooms, especially when it came to the dreaded no.2. Fear of causing a stink, I would try to put it off for as long as possible which would lead to brewing discomfort. When I couldn’t hold it any longer and the interior brown was threatening to burst, I would take myself to the bathroom and prepare for the deed like it was some surgical operation. I had all the tricks up my sleeve: spray the toilet with essential oils to mask the fore-smellable stench, have the hand prepped and ready to wipe and flush as soon as the fecal matter left my body and then spritz more sweet smelling concoctions to leave no trace behind of my shameful act. Maybe at that time, I thought of this ritual as a way of leaving the bathroom smelling nice for the next person, but I think it really came down to not wanting to acknowledge my own stench or let it be linked to me in any way, stench or form, so I just pretended it wasn’t there and covered it up like it was top secret and hoped no one would find out. 

I can honestly laugh about this now, but back then it was a weighty thing, literally, that I tried to conceal. Why do we humans take so much time and spend so much effort in trying to hide the fact that we poo? Every single one of us, shits, takes a dump, farts, stains the toilet bowl brown that not only leaves behind a trace, but also a rank odor to boot. Sometimes, I wonder if this is not the great joke that we convince ourselves we’re better-than-thou, only to find out that we defecate like animals. No one is above the other, especially in this regard. I find it both humbling and relieving, that we all have common experiences. We’re more similar to each other than we’d like to admit. 

Not only are we ashamed of the very act, but we make great strides to make sure no one else finds out. We try to conceal this sacred secret by means of sweet smelling potions and tricks to leave behind fragrance not stench, friend not foe—a feeble endeavor to mask the frail stink of our humanity. 

I used to find it embarrassing if someone I knew was going into the bathroom after me and scared they might wrinkle their noses at the fact that I had caused a mess that left fumes in its wake. Why all the shame? Is it that we don’t want to be associated with anything disgusting? Maybe if we put it as far away from us as possible, we can convince ourselves we’re free from the fact that we all cause a stink? 

Why so much covering and concealing of who we are? What’s the use in hiding something we all do and cannot help? Better to come out with it, or let it come out of us and own it. Embrace it even. It makes for a more authentic experience. 

And the deeper question is why do we run around so often pretending that our humanity, at least the stinky side, doesn’t exist? Sometimes, I think our fecal matter is a symbol of our very imperfection. It shows us that sometimes, we cause a stink. We wreak havoc. We make mistakes. And that is part of what it means to be human. It’s part of who we are. The majority of our experience consists in imperfection, so why then do we pretend we are anything but? It is this very facade that takes away from our authenticity. Parading around like dainty deities, will not take from the truth of the matter, fecal matter that is, that we defecate like dogs.

Now, when I go into a public restroom, and the inevitable happens, I don’t try to get rid of the stink. I make my mark and can admit that yes, it’s a little gross and yes it makes my own nose wrinkle sometimes, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s part of how we were designed and a natural bodily function. If the next person sniffs it, so what? They are no freer from my stench than they are from theirs. Duty calls to remind us of who we are, and that, yes, sometimes we cause a stink and that’s part of the process. It doesn’t take away from our inherent value and there’s no shame in acknowledging our smelly humanity once in a while.