Graffiti is “a political protest that has gone on for at least 50 years… one of the most enduring acts of protest.” It’s true.
This piece features the authors opinion.
It’s 8:56 am on a Monday morning when I get the urge to go — always right before class. I rush into the nearest bathroom, trying to be quick, but inevitably find myself lingering. Not because I’m slow, but because I’m reading. The four sides of the toilet stall are covered in graffiti. Political messages, love notes, doodles, surveys, confessions. I’m surrounded by anonymous voices, and I don’t stop thinking about them for the rest of the day.
As someone who identifies as female and uses female bathrooms, I’m well aware there are probably far less anatomical illustrations here than in male stalls. But that’s not the point. What matters is that bathrooms are miniature public platforms for political participation. They’re intimate, yet communal. Private, yet public.
Think about it. What was the last message you read on a toilet wall?
At UC, it’s likely to have been a ‘Free Palestine’, the most popular piece of graffiti circulating at the moment. Often it’s accompanied by a hand-drawn Palestinian flag. The person who wrote it was sharing a political agenda. The people who added to it expressed their agreement, and the ones who read it are reminded of the ongoing struggles in the Middle East. A little piece of graffiti has the power to bring us together, to provoke thought, and to politicise a space we usually associate with silence and solitude.
According to Hyperallergic, graffiti is “a political protest that has gone on for at least 50 years… one of the most enduring acts of protest.” It’s true. Because of their anonymity, bathrooms offer a protected space for political expression. No usernames, no surveillance, just ink and the wall. No one can prove you wrote anything, which generates a raw honesty that’s hard to find elsewhere.
Scholars say university students are particularly likely to engage with political bathroom graffiti, given our age and education level. We’re curious, critical and often searching for ways to make our voices heard, even if it’s through a Sharpie on a stall door.
Heroica writes “cubicles can facilitate important discussions and serious political messages.” To me, the ongoing commentary sprawled across toilet walls is like a distorted internet forum. People ask questions, write about themselves and share messages that spark internal dialogue, even if that dialogue never leaves the cubicle.
Mediums vary. Sharpie, ballpoint pen, stickers, paint pens. I recently came across a bug-like creature drawn in the Undercroft bathroom. “Buggi says DON’T BE A DICK. Free Palestine!” Underneath, someone had written “life is short, love w/ your whole body, mind & soul,” next to a Greenpeace sticker urging people to vote for clean drinking water.
According to The Guardian, “scribbles in women’s toilets express more vulnerability, talk about relationships and show more solidarity, while men are more likely to draw pictures and write insults.” Yet some scholars argue men are more likely to express political messages, while women focus on positivity and interaction. I’m not sure it’s that binary. At UC, I’ve seen plenty of political graffiti in women’s bathrooms.
Curious about UC’s stance, I reached out to them for a comment. Over the past few weeks, I’ve collected dozens of photos of writing, drawings, stickers, and posters from bathrooms across campus. A University of Canterbury spokesperson responded:
“Graffiti on University property, including in bathrooms, is not permitted. It’s treated as vandalism and removed as part of regular cleaning and maintenance. Under the Student Code of Conduct, students must not misuse, damage, or interfere with University property. The University supports positive and creative ways to share messages, including using UCSA-managed poster bollards, approved notice boards, and designated chalking areas.”
I’m not here to argue whether graffiti is art or vandalism, but I’ll tell you this. It expresses political power. The need to be heard and to create change is not something that can be scrubbed off a wall with chemical cleaning product.
While writing this piece, I came across a photo of a scribble on a stall wall that stuck with me:
“You can paint over me, but I’ll still be here.”
To me, this demonstrates the raw anonymous urgency of toilet graffiti. The messages remind us politics isn’t confined to lecture halls or protest marches; sometimes it’s scrawled in ink on a bathroom wall, waiting for someone like me or you to read it.