- Formerly A Wife: A Survival Guide for Women Facing the Pain and Disruption of...Brand new
- Formerly A Wife: A Survival Guide for Women Facing the Pain and Disruption ofBrand new
- FOUND B&W PHOTO G_2856 TWO WOMEN AND A MAN OUTSIDE THE DIAMOND BAR AND CAFE
Sara stands outside on a summer day in the country and feels the need. She looks: The coast is clear. She squats down, spreads her underwear and pees.
Peeing outside: it’s been a man’s game for so long. For people with vulva, peeing outdoors, like many other things – becoming a president, screaming during a business meeting, wearing comfortable but fashionable shoes – is just not a social norm.
Peeing outdoors isn’t legal in any state in the United States, but it never seemed to stop people with penises. Now with public toilets and private company toilets – often inaccessible at best – extremely closed, women face a challenge: to do any sort of safe socialization, a good wee from nature to nature. old may be needed.
Maybe it’s the fact that the idea of entering the confined shared space of a bathroom in a public park sounds like a COVID horror story. Perhaps this is a refusal to potentially increase your odds of contracting a urinary tract infection in exchange for a socially distant picnic. Maybe in a year of so much upheaval, being careful about our bodily functions seems silly. Or “maybe the quarantine cabin fever made me a little wild,” Sara says.
Maybe women are starting to mark our own territory.
I would like to officially declare that this is the age of women who pee outside, that social standards are damned. Evidence on the Internet suggests that this is really one thing. On July 23, Amy Schumer crouched just outside a car in a prairie dress, a strip of black underwear tied around her kneecaps, confidently peeing into the night. The “pee your pants” challenge has become, absurdly, a mini-trend on TikTok. “A pandemic peak in public urination turns NYC into a big toilet,” the New York Post reported. A Reddit “Am I the asshole” Publish From March, about a woman whose boyfriend made her pee next to passing cars rather than risk entering a gas station washroom, went viral, dividing commentators. “We’re not going to spend the summer peeing outside,” Henry Grabar wrote in Slate, in an article on the danger of using shared bathrooms during the coronavirus pandemic.
Sure. Rather, we can spend the summer, fall, and even the beginning of winter peeing outside.
Emily *, 35 from the UK, says she would never have peed outside before the pandemic, but times have changed. When she needs to, she finds “a cheeky tree and woods.” She recommends taking your child with you, if you have one, so people will assume that you are just helping your child pee outside, less of a violation of etiquette.
“I peed exclusively outdoors during COVID, especially in Central Park,” says Sally, a 27-year-old living in Manhattan. “I don’t think I will ever go back.”
“A lot of places are closed right now because of the virus, so when I have to go I have to go,” says Kailey, an 18-year-old from Castro Valley, Calif. He’s the kind of person who happily peed outside sometimes before the pandemic. But now she doesn’t always have a choice. “Pick a tree or something to hide behind and do a squat,” she advises.
Evangelizing about peeing outdoors is usually the job of men who talk just to hear themselves talk, or people of all sexes who are extremely enthusiastic about hiking and camping. What nonconforming woman or kind of person hasn’t stood in a long queue in the bathroom while a man smirked about the glory of peeing anywhere and anytime? Who among us hasn’t frantically searched Google Maps for rest areas, while a male companion laughs: “Take that empty soda bottle!” Or I can just stop! “
The urge to pee is a long, invisible leash that binds women to the home, especially in the age of manic hydration culture. Holding your pee is unhealthy and can have long term effects. And even when bathrooms are available, using a shared toilet carries a different risk in the age of COVID-19. “The toilet must be considered as one of the sources of infection” of the coronavirus, research published in June in the journal Fluid physics found. When a person infected with the virus has used and then flushed a toilet, “massive upward transport of virus particles” can occur.
I hadn’t earlier imagined the plume of toilet particles hanging around the park bathroom until I was outside, urinating freely in a bed of clover. It’s one thing to accept that using shared bathrooms likely means inhaling aerosol particles expelled by recent users. It’s another thing to assume a potential additional health risk right now.
Candice was recently on a four hour road trip to the West Coast and didn’t feel comfortable stopping to take a pee. Instead, she settled in some bushes next to a parking lot. “I am extremely shy pee, like that just won’t come out if I think I’m being watched, even if I’m in a stall with a friend in a bar, ”she says. Hiding behind the greenery, she started to pee, but halfway she realized she was exposed to the freeway. “And yet,” she said. “My pee leaked, much to my surprise. It was liberating.
Release: It comes in many forms. Sometimes it comes in a carrying case. Cleo, 25, living in the San Francisco Bay Area, identifies as a “fan” of peeing outside. She mostly does this when spending time with friends in nature, hiking, or camping, but she tries to avoid shared bathrooms everywhere for fear of COVID particles. Like many women who have spoken Charm for this article, she took her outdoor peeing to the next level: “I did some research and ended up buying a Pibella, which is a female urination device, or FUD,” she says . “I practiced several times at home and liked it so much that I bought a Pibella for three of my friends and my mother. She uses hers to pee in the open, as well as in bottles under certain circumstances. FUD is a product category characterized by unfortunate names and compact designs: you have your Shewees, your pStyles, your Freshettes, your Tinklebelles.
Before the pandemic, I was never more than an outdoor pee when absolutely necessary, less because of convenience than because I lack core strength. Unless you want the experience of both sitting on a urinating bidet and also being the bidet, squatting down to pee is tricky.
My pandemic pee protocol involves no squats. If I’m going outdoors or on a long road trip, I wear a skirt or dress. When the time comes, I take off my underwear, put it in my pocket, and pee while standing, mostly fully clothed, like playing a tunnel tag game with a woman. Down, squat with your butt exposed, trying to direct your throw away from your denim shorts. Up with pee completely upright in a minidress.
Women I’ve spoken to have confirmed that outdoor peeing is an art, not a science. Sara recommends three techniques: “One, squat and pull the underwear to one side, better with a skirt. Two, squatting against a tree. Three, standing (experts only). Emily’s recommendation is “to wait until you are desperate; so you urinate faster. She carries baby wipes with her at all times.
But there is one downside to toilet paper hanging over the glorious golden stream of open-air peeing – it’s illegal, with a range of serious consequences, depending on the laws you find yourself in. It is not acceptable to expose other people to your genitals, even if you don’t do it on purpose, but urination in public is illegal the same way as smoking weed or going five miles beyond. above the speed limit is – if you’re white and well- off, you’re probably more likely to get away with it. The pee privilege, I imagine, is very, very real.
For those of us who are just pandemic-era tourists to the world of outdoor peeing, this time should be a wake-up call to the lack of public toilets and the way our public spaces and systems law enforcement are set up to ignore humans. needs and marginalize people at every turn. Standardizing outdoor peeing for women doesn’t mean indiscriminately peeing: don’t do it on private property, do it in someone’s beautiful garden, or in or near a stream or river, do not do it in plain sight. It is ideal for peeing somewhere like the woods or a friend’s yard, rather than next to historic places of worship, like the stone foundation of the Ulm Minster church in Germany, which is being eroded by urine.
As the rules of polite life rewrite themselves for an unprecedented age, so do the rules of polite pee. Cleo, the woman who bought five female urination machines, puts it best: “Spoiler alert: men have been doing this for a long time.”
* Some names have been changed for confidentiality reasons.
Jenny Singer is a writer for Charm. You can follow her on Twitter.
Originally appeared on Glamor