Confessions from the Cubicle Cult:

Hidden within our liminal spaces is the opportunity to join a cult of self expression. Requirements? A Sharpie and an opinion. Latrinalia – the academic term for bathroom stall graffiti – is unexpectedly unifying, bringing strangers together through a faceless voice of freedom. The ancient art of graffiti comes in many forms, from murals and tags to 40,000 year old cave paintings; we have a human desire to externalise the internal, even through means deemed as ‘vandalism’. 

The name ‘Latrinalia’ was first coined by Folklorist Alan Dundes in his 1966 essay, ‘Here I Sit – A Study of American Latrinalia’, in which Dundes explores the differing types of bathroom graffiti and why we’re drawn to vandalising stalls. What intrigues me most is how latrinalia becomes a small act of defiance: whether it’s through sharing a crude joke, a political statement or phone number, these impulsive inscriptions tell us more about their author than any name ever could.

On paper latrinalia should feel like an invasion of privacy. Surrounded by scrawled messages, it’s easy to imagine the hundreds of writers uncomfortably squeezed into your cubicle, chatting loudly whilst you perform your most vulnerable bodily functions. Despite this, these inscriptions don’t feel pervasive. Why? Because your vulnerability mirrors the vulnerability of unrestrained expression. To draw from Dundee’s essay, the taboo of toilet related activities transforms a bathroom stall into the perfect space for secretive conversation: ‘It is in many ways a place of comparative freedom from the normal restraints imposed by the adult world.’ These conversations are not limited to gossip between friends but also create an opportunity for strangers to interact via anonymity. When collecting my own archive of latrinalia, I was interested in the variety of the subject matter. One person drew a game of tic tac toe whilst others wrote motivational messages. I also saw several religious and political notes.

The lawlessness of ungoverned conversation in these spaces leads to creativity in connecting. Through experimenting with humour, politics, advice and beliefs, this cult of vandalism is the ultimate form of self expression without consequence. A bathroom stall gives a voice to us all…but is this always a good thing?

During my hunt for latrinalia, although few in number, I did find some highly offensive comments. This extremist slander gave an insight into prejudices that otherwise remain hidden. Perhaps too cowardly to publish their thoughts online, the freedom of commentary in public spaces may reward anonymity to the wrong people. Yet the responses to such messages were overwhelmingly optimistic: others crossed them out, covered them, or challenged them directly. Latrianlia resembles a physical Reddit thread, ever growing but escaping the confines of an algorithmic echo-chamber.  

I’ve grown to appreciate this community of unknown writers. Their messages immortalise fragments of identity, standing against a world obsessed with curated perfection. I can’t help but feel slightly defeated when I scurry into a cubicle, drop my trousers, and find a barren stall door staring back at me. Maybe I’ll come better equipped next time.