‘Toilet Cubicles are a Strange Hybrid’: Graffiti as a Medium of Political Action

By Florenne Earle Ledger

We’ve all had that moment, sitting on the loo in a pub or a cafe, when our eyes wander over the various writing surrounding us. It only just hit me how interesting it is to read toilet graffiti more carefully and see how it reflects the opinions and personality types of the people who occupied the space before.

The issues explored in toilet graffiti include everything from politics to gender identity to domestic violence, and so much more. Why, of all places, have toilets become a somewhat acceptable space for people to ‘vandalise’ with their opinions on important subject matters?

Most of the time you’re either alone or with people close to you when you use a cubicle. Either you’re comforted by your solitude, able to write your thoughts safe from judgment, or you’re encouraged by those who know you best to say your piece. A lot of the time when you’re with someone else in a cubicle you’re drunk, which spurs us on even more to scribble our unfiltered thoughts on the four walls around us.

Toilet cubicles are a strange hybrid. They aren’t the main event, yet most people in a venue will visit them at some point. In other words, it’s guaranteed that a lot of people are going to see what you write in the cubicle. What makes this more interesting is that no one can prove it was you who wrote anything – it’s anonymous. This adds a level of honesty that isn’t always present in public debates and discussions.

The concoction of solitude, confidence and confirmation that your message will be viewed by a decent number of people make toilet cubicles perfect for personal expressions. In my experience, it’s typically people with extreme or liberal views that decide to utilise the space in a small act of rebellion. Through a series of toilet graffiti that I’ve seen in the last month, it’s clear cubicles host some important conversations reflecting the voices of open-minded (and closed-minded) people.

Solitude and anonymity can bring out the worst in people. In Euston station, London, I was disappointed to come across transphobia on the back of the toilet door: ‘Women don’t have a penis’ was written in biro in the centre of the cubicle. I was pleased to see the comment had many responses of people expressing their disagreement and jotting down helplines for trans women. After adding my own comment to counter this transphobic stranger’s argument, I left feeling a mix of frustration and sadness due to the overt bigotry in our country, but also satisfaction knowing that the transphobic comment achieved the opposite of the writer’s aim. It sparked a written dialogue that resulted in the sharing of helpful resources to incite trans liberation.

Euston station is a connection point between London and the North, with trains running to Scotland, Manchester and Liverpool. Thousands of people pass through every day, and many

will have seen the exchange on the back of the door. While cleaners probably removed it quickly after, it may have encouraged people unaware of this issue to do their own research.

Anonymity can be a great thing in other circumstances. I found myself in a gender-neutral toilet in a cafe in Manchester, reading a series of posters containing helplines and information about women stuck in domestically abusive relationships. In the corner of the poster, someone had written ‘as a victim myself, men can be domestically abused too [helpline]. Love to all’. The comment didn’t take away from the support needed for women; it expanded the conversation and provided crucial help for men who have also been impacted by domestic abuse.

I felt the gentle nature of his remark seemed like it came from someone shy, so I assumed he wouldn’t have shared his experience in front of a large group, yet he would have been aware many people would see his writing on the poster. I could be completely wrong, but it’s great that the private space of the cubicle gave him a chance to be honest and brave.

In the same vein, anyone facing domestic abuse may not be able to look up advice or see if there is any local support online for fear their abuser will check their device history. Seeing something like that in a confined space provides effective and safe help for those who need it, whilst opening a conversation up to other victims, such as the man who wrote on the poster.

Whilst cubicles can facilitate important discussions and serious political messages, they can also be a place for novelty expressions and opinions. In a pub in Sheffield, I was amused for far too long by the mass number of pictures and words that were written with so much guts and passion. My favourite was, ‘pussy is the only ethical consumption under capitalism’.

I love that cubicles provide an unfiltered place for people to scrawl down what’s on their minds and have it seen by others. The space often feels supportive, as other people respond to your comment showing engagement and a level of understanding. If you’re using the toilet, it’s somewhat comforting to see the inner thoughts of strangers in the same pub, cafe, bar, etc. In a weird way it makes you feel a part of something, knowing that you share the same views as people around you, even though you’re not talking to them directly.

It goes without saying that trans people, victims of domestic abuse and members of the LGBTQ+ community need more political support than writing on a wall. Realistically, toilet graffiti won’t lead to policy change, but the beauty of creating a sense of community or starting a conversation by writing on the walls is something to be appreciated.