Feminist toilet rant

First of all, welcome to any non-feminists, male or female, who started reading in spite of the title (or didn't notice the title). I know feminists can be scary. The very word feminist is a bit of a challenge, because what we really want to be are equalists or humanists or something more inclusive, but the fact remains that half the population is underrepresented in decision-making and paid less for their contributions even in the most "developed" countries, not to mention the exclusion and injustice experienced elsewhere. We're working on improving that, and would love your help, but the word "feminist" reminds us that we haven't got there yet.

This rant, which has turned into more of a lament, was triggered two weeks ago at one of the camps where we were doing annual maintenance on a wastewater treatment unit (which means cleaning out all the sewage sludge, a very messy job) and we finished after dark.  I love sewage treatment, I think it's a noble profession and worthy and honorable work, but I definitely like to get cleaned up after doing it.  The UN provides lavatories, complete with showers, for men and women at all of the camps.  I wanted to go to the ladies' but it was locked.  The woman who works at that camp, in the Security section, keeps the key and she had gone home. Why lock the door? Because public toilets aren't safe.

If only we could all defend ourselves like Hit-Girl

It's not just in Africa, in Europe and the US parents know this and try to avoid letting their little kids go alone. But as we grow up, after we get to a certain size we forget about it. Not everywhere. I'm not suggesting that there are sexual predators lurking in the ladies toilets on our guarded UN camps (although with the male:female staff ratio I probably shouldn't exclude that possibility), but I am now very conscious that Ivoirian women don't feel safe in a public toilet that wasn't locked before they got there. That tells me a lot about how different growing up as a woman here must have been to my childhood.

Meanwhile, Ivoirian men (and male visitors to the country) routinely pee in public. They stop on the side of the road and urinate into the bushes, in town as well as in the countryside, and don't seem deterred by the presence of others. After all, it's perfectly natural, why be ashamed?

Environmentally speaking, of course, they're quite right - urine is full of nitrogen and a great fertilizer, and it is really a waste to send it all to sewage treatment works. Anyway, there are no public toilets - no fast-food or coffeehouse chains where you can buy a drink as an excuse to use the facilities either (seriously, I even checked the Starbucks locator website: the closest I could find was Cairo), and gas stations don't have them. That's what the bush is for.

You may remember, from my very first post, that I was going to relieve myself in the bush when I got my car stuck in the mud and needed five helpful young villagers to dig it out. Even something as seemingly straightforward as nipping behind some vegetation is not without its hazards. And my young villagers were helpful. Judging by the locked ladies' room door, that is something Ivoirian women are not prepared to count on. Women learn to hold it.

The locked door also reminds me that I grew up in a very sheltered, privileged environment. I had indoor plumbing at home all my life and every school I went to had safe, serviceable toilets. As a girl, this leveled the playing field for me and I was completely oblivious. When I got my first period it was a hassle and an adjustment, but it wasn't a reason to drop out of school. I graduated, without a second thought, just like the boys. Unlike poor adolescent girls all over the world, I had access to decent restrooms.

I know it's not all unicorns and rainbows for boys and men in life either. As the saying goes, everyone is fighting a hard battle, and even the biggest, strongest man will at some point need to poo (that last part isn't in the saying, or at least it wasn't before now). The risks aren't the same as for women, but in that moment in the bush I bet the feeling of vulnerability is familiar.

It seems very unfair, but I don't travel alone here any more.  I might have to use the toilet.

A plumbing and electrical parts supplier in the town of Tabou

Further reading:  there's a great Scientific American article this week on evidence showing that diverse groups are more creative, and a wonderful Indian comic book about puberty aimed at 9-12 year old girls (but welcoming all ages, and genders), called Menstrupedia.

Ladies room clip art: http://www.clker.com/clipart-ladies-room1.html
HitGirl: http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120207153754/bleedmancomics/images/a/a2/Hit-Girl.png