I still remember the first time I sh*t myself as an adult. I was hiking in California. I had almost reached the top of the hike when my stomach gurgled. I had to go to the bathroom immediately. It was snake season and they had warned hikers to not pull their pants down near bushes. There was a public bathroom at the entrance of the hike– if I ran a mile back I could make it. Luckily, I had just finished a class on mindfulness and meditation. It was time to put these skills to the test. If I control my breath and *manifest* making it to the bathroom, I will make it. I had practiced for this. It didn’t work: Turns out that if you relax too much you will stop clenching.
Anyone who has Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) or any chronic gut issues knows that once that vibration hits the gut, you have about 90 seconds to find a bathroom or it’s game over. It does not matter if you only had bread or how healthy you are, IBS makes the rules and your body is forced to abide. That day on the hike I did not make it, and it was humiliating. But thank God I was alone and there was a public bathroom to retain my dignity.
It does not matter how many times you’ve had an accident, there’s no graceful way to shit yourself.
From the moment you start school, you’re told to hold it until class ends. When you express you need to go at an inconvenient time, you’re met with, “Are you sure you can’t hold it?”. At work, people will joke about how often so-and-so use the bathroom. Sometimes you buy something you do not need so that you can use a ‘customer only’ bathroom. The truth is, you shouldn’t have to qualify for something that everyone on Earth has to do (sometimes) multiple times a day.
At protests, on the metro in DC, in the airport security line, on a hike with my future in-laws, behind a Target dumpster, in a Boston coffee shop, in a country where I did not speak the language, and on my graduation day: my stomach has come for me in a similar fashion.
Being allowed to use the bathroom is an experience that is usually means-tested. Access to housing, being trans (2023 saw the highest number of bathroom bans in any previous year) and racism are all factors that determine if someone will allow you to use their bathroom at your most vulnerable. And if you have been rejected or barred from using a restroom, you can be fined for eventually trying to relieve yourself. Public urination is technically illegal in every state.
In 2019, the New York Times wrote, “Poop shame is real — and it disproportionately affects women, who suffer from higher rates of irritable bowel syndrome and inflammatory bowel disease.” Add in the layers of fatphobia and anti-Blackness that are prevalent in this country. Chunky, dark, fat, and Black women are not supposed to talk about having to uncontrollably poop. When thin white women talk about pooping themselves and it’s a quirky joke. When bigger and darker women talk about IBS, it can be taken as too much.
We can’t talk about bathroom access without talking about racism, homelessness and failing infrastructure. During the pandemic, many public restrooms closed leaving it nearly impossible for people to find bathrooms. And before that, the public restrooms in the US had been slowly closing and those that were open were not in great condition. About a decade ago, the UN wrote about how awful the public restrooms in the US are and the human right to sanitation. Many US public bathrooms are not accessible and those tasked with cleaning these spaces are severely underpaid. In major cities, judgement of folks who are unhoused has caused many businesses to close their restrooms altogether.
When thin white women talk about pooping themselves and it’s a quirky joke. When bigger and darker women talk about IBS, it can be taken as too much.
Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) awareness, SIBO, and various chronic gut diseases have started to enter mainstream culture. While it’s been impacting people for years, it’s becoming ever so slightly normalized, kind of (for some people). In Los Angeles, you can find billboards that read ‘Hot Girls Have IBS’ (I have one of their stickers) and on Instagram, MYIBSLife has 45.6K followers (one of which is me) And got2gonyc has done wonders for many New Yorkers, but the pervasiveness of whiteness and thinness determines who are trusted speakers on IBS.
When I explain the reality of what it’s like to have IBS people usually respond with unsolicited, well-intentioned advice: Have I tried yoga? Do I work out? Have I tried [fill in the blank diet]? What if I managed my stress better? Bold suggestions in a country that does not have universal healthcare. During flare-ups where I drop weight fast others have commented that perhaps it’s a ‘blessing in disguise’, a reframing of shitting yourself that I had not personally thought of?
Some men give me dirty looks for being so public about my bowel business. Some folks divulge their gut issues or whisper their own embarrassing stories of almost-not-making-it-in-time.
To this day, I still panic when my stomach rumbles. My body goes into fight mode. I sweat profusely while trying to whisper kind words to myself. If I am with my husband, I will whisper, “I need a bathroom, right now.” He will run ahead and get in line for me or bolt into our apartment and throw the toilet seat up. He knows the drill. If I do not make it, I usually cry. It’s kind of a day ruiner. It does not matter how many times you’ve had an accident, there’s no graceful way to shit yourself.
About the Author:
Melis is a writer and organizer who lives in Yolo County, CA. She enjoys learning about bowel movements, universal healthcare, pop culture, Catholicism and is a very sleepy girl.