Here’s a question that’s become uncomfortably relevant of late: how do you decide what to be outraged about when everything is outrageous?
In less than a trimester, the Trump Tornado has caused a global economic meltdown, pounded the rule of law and system of checks and balances into unrecognisable pulp, shredded the Constitution, and avenged every perceived slight from Donald’s first term seemingly all the way back to first grade. This all-out strategy was named in 2018 by adviser Steve Bannon, when he said the enemy wasn’t the Democrats, it was the media, and the way to deal with them was to “flood the zone with shit”.
That’s when the lightbulb went off above my noggin, and it lit up an underexposed outrage. An American failure that loomed larger after three weeks in Aotearoa New Zealand, where what’s a huge problem for us almost isn’t a problem at all. The issue? Public toilets.
For reasons no one but me needs to know, I am a more frequent frequenter of public toilets than your average Yank, which is vexing when I’m out and about, as the US has eight public toilets for every 100,000 people, earning a spot near the bottom of the list with, no offence, Botswana and Poland. New Zealand ranks third with 45 (trailing only Switzerland and Iceland), a fact that did not go unnoticed or under-appreciated during my recent three-week visit.
This paucity of privies is a moderate annoyance for me, but it’s a daunting daily challenge for America’s almost 800,000 unhoused people. Many build their days around where and when they can use a bathroom; they stay dehydrated to avoid having to go too often. When they do use public toilets, they are demonised because once in a while there are problems, which results in powerful people with hard hearts using that as an excuse to not build more.
As an ally in my son’s organisation’s effort to establish a homeless union in Colorado Springs said, “By that logic we shouldn’t have roads and that way we can avoid all car crashes.” But people need to go places, so we have ample roads, and people need to go, so logic dictates we should have ample places for that, too.
The US is awash in depressing statistics these days, but the fact we have 24 times more unhoused humans than public toilets certainly deserves more notice than it gets. Delivery and rideshare drivers and people with health-related challenges are also among those who suffer most, but we’ve all been there at some point.
New York City just passed a law mandating the doubling of its public toilet total by 2035, and pilot programmes with fun names like Portland Loos and Philly Phlush are trying out individual, easier-to-clean and harder-to-vandalise standalone units. But these are just drops in the portable toilet. It’s a shame Senator Cory Booker had so many other nightmarish issues to discuss during his 25-hour toilet-visit-free speech a few weeks ago on the Senate floor, as it would have dovetailed nicely with the pro public toilets agenda.
Given the compassion-free stance Trump and his cruelty chorus have towards serving the underserved, I have no hope of federal help for what is largely a state and local issue anyway.
I regret but understand the reluctance of small business owners to open their conveniences to non-paying customers, but I don’t recall seeing any “No public bathroom” signs in New Zealand – and there was the time a coffee shop proprietor had closed for the day but still welcomed me to use his loo.
Not providing enough places for what are among our most fundamental acts speaks to a lack of concern for the general welfare by those in power.
Catarina de Albuquerque, CEO of the multinational Sanitation and Water for All agency, said, “It’s an ongoing sanitation crisis, and it highlights American inequality and marginalisation.
“Like food, water and shelter, access to safe sanitation is a fundamental human right.”
