But Then Feminism Happened.

PAUSE

2012-01-20T14:28:00.001Z

So, something terrible happened. In October. But it was still terrible.

My house was broken into, and my dear little laptop was stolen. I had dozens and dozens of awesome toilet graffiti photos saved up on there, and they're all gone. Until I rebuild my collection, this bog blog is on hiatus.

I have a creative writing blog called A Cage in Search of a Bird that might interest you in the meantime.

Over and out,

Alice x

Chalk Board Trend.

2011-09-25T20:44:00.004+01:00

San Francisco State University, California.

I saw these cool chalk boards bolted to the bog walls of SF State's toilets. "What a neat idea!" I thought, snapping a couple of merry pictures for the ol' blog. It seemed like a great way to allow students to express themselves whilst on the throne, yet still keep the toilets in a respectable condition.

Then I went to New York...

Entire chalk-board toilet covered in absolute filth. Lower East Side, Manhattan.

Laughter Lounge chalk board pissers. East Village, Manhattan.

If you found butthenfeminismhappened.blogspot.com via my chalk-board bog adverts, feel free to say how do.

True Art

2011-08-19T12:49:00.003+01:00

We have a little Banksy in the making in The Dev, Camden. Of course, she's right: some of the finest artwork I've ever spied has been on the walls of toilets, such as the example below.

World's End, Camden.

Sucking in Seattle.

2011-08-10T23:24:00.003+01:00

Sucks to be your date, Seattle, USA.

(But not so much if you're eating delicious vegan food and drinking house infused spirits in the amazing metal/vegan bar Highline).

Number of the (blog) beast.

2011-08-09T01:43:00.002+01:00

Bog graffiti in Seattle. It was pretty cool, yo.

Wimbledon: I have spent hours doing this.

2011-07-19T01:26:00.003+01:00

"Toilet Tennis: Look Right."

Okay, so I'm a little late to the annual smug strawberries-and-cream-our-knickers-over-grunting-noises party, but whatever. Submitted by my talented amigo Jason Weight. Location indeterminate.

May our hard ons live on.

2011-07-07T19:01:00.000+01:00

New Orleans, USA.

Bummed out.

2011-05-10T23:38:00.000+01:00

San Francisco, USA.

I'm watching you...

2011-05-02T14:05:00.000+01:00

Another Sharpied voyeur, New Orleans, USA.

There is a house down in New Orleans...

2011-04-24T08:42:00.000+01:00

Lack of updates is due to a two-week stint galavanting around the States. I've held baby alligators in New Orleans, drank coffee in Seattle, bear-spotted in Yosemite and escaped from Alcatraz in San Francisco... and I've taken a fucking shed-load of wild toilet graffiti for y'all to enjoy. Expect a plethora of wholesome American vandalism when I land on British soils, but for now here's a snap from a stall in Angeli's, New Orleans.

Seriously.

2011-04-02T11:38:00.000+01:00

Seriously. London, UK.

Thumbs up, yeah?

2011-03-26T11:15:00.000Z

Thank you to Jo for having the presence of mind to snap this picture, found in 'the North's dirtiest rock club (The Tasch).'

I Heart My Pub

2011-03-21T20:25:00.000Z

Every now and then - not often, mind - I stumble upon a little ode to someone's favourite pub. It warms the cockles of my fanny.

God love 'em. Temple is a lovely pub with a cracking juke box. As it happens, it used to be a public toilet, and photos snapped in Temple have cropped up on this humble blog several times already. My spiffing little banner is a prime example. Long live Temple!

Chamber of Secrets.

2011-03-17T13:05:00.000Z

This was originally posted by the PostSecret twitter feed, and then retweeted by Stephen Fry, so I'm sure everyone's seen it already, but sod it, it's too good to omit.

This is the first chapter of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, in full, on the back of a toilet door.

We must ask ourselves the question that so frequently springs to mind when viewing the wacky world of toilet graffiti: why did someone bother to do this?

The obvious answer is, of course, why the fuck not.

(Thanks to Amy for pointing me in the right direction.)

In the gutter, but wearing fabulous lipstick.

2011-03-11T01:53:00.001Z

So, I was in Paris, minding my own business in Père Lachaise cemetery, when I stumbled upon Oscar Wilde's grave. It was covered in lipstick kisses (which we've seen in a toilet in Manchester) and graffiti (mostly Wilde quotes and "X hearts Y" drivel). We've seen a deviation of this particular quote in another toilet in Manchester, so I thought I'd think outside the cubical and share.

Here's a few contextual shots, for your viewing pleasure:

And no, I did not add my own lipstick commemoration.

"I'm a slut."

2011-02-27T17:49:00.000Z

Thanks to Kate for this feminist interaction, found in The Tottenham, London, UK.

You might have to squint to see the catalyst of the exchange.

You are not alone.

2011-02-20T15:17:00.000Z

Enjoy the new layout, folks. I got sick of the sight of the old one, so I decided to apply a digital Sharpie to it. Thoughts and opinions most welcome.

Manchester, UK.

Deutsche Toiletten-Graffiti.

2011-02-16T23:19:00.000Z

Frankfurt, Germany.

Big thanks to Ellie for this sticker found in Goethe University, Frankfurt. Neither myself nor Ellie speak German, so who knows what mysteries lurk within that blue inked text? (According to Babelfish, not much).

If you wanna wee...

2011-02-13T20:21:00.000Z

I can confirm that my wee at the Hope & Anchor in Islington was, in fact, free with my pint. London, UK.

Codename: Crimson Tide

2011-02-08T03:18:00.000Z

New Orleans, Louisiana.

Thank god the lingual trend-setters are finally cluing the rest of us into their new-fangled slang. I was sick of constantly feeling out of the loop at Tupperware parties. On a different note, Crimson Tide sounds like a character from a Quentin Tarantino film. (I can see her now: a hard-hitting, tough-knuckled hit woman from The Deadly Vagina Assassination Squad. Man alive, how I loath Kill Bill).

Monster Balloon

2011-01-10T15:32:00.000Z

Monster Balloon is watching you pee, Brighton, UK.

Turf wars.

2010-12-22T13:32:00.000Z

Massive thank you to Katie of Rock 'n' Rolly for including But Then Feminism Happened in her top ten blogs of 2010 feature. Cheers bab! May your visits to public toilet be filled with festive merriment.

I couldn't get a decent photo of this Sharpied exchange in the Hope & Anchor, Islington, and this isn't verbatim (blog-fail):

"This is my dad's pub."

"Actually, this is my pub and I haven't spawned any offspring."

Brilliant.

The Tate proudly provides sanity bins.

2010-11-29T01:25:00.000Z

Thanks to Miranda for this slice of fried gold from the Tate.

Check out her bangin' blog Bad Reputation. It's actually about feminism, not toilets.

Put yer back in it...

2010-11-09T23:39:00.000Z

I spent ages reading all the fiddly bits of tat written on this toilet door before deciding against taking any close ups. It was only later when I was scrolling through the photos that I saw the huge-assed letters scrawled over the whole thing.

Shame, innit? London, UK.

Mwah!

2010-10-22T18:47:00.000+01:00

This lipstick-daubed wall in the bathroom of Odder bar, Manchester, reminded me of this urban legend.

It also reminded me of this wall of kisses I found in a French café, Soho, London.

That said, I'd like to kiss a toilet wall about as much as I'd like to follow these instructions written on a toilet wall in Paris, France.

A plumber's word.

2010-10-17T23:02:00.000+01:00

Josh may be a petty vandal, but he sees no need for coarse language. London, UK

Imagine there's no graffiti...

2010-09-30T11:14:00.000+01:00

A butchered John Lennon quote for you on this beautiful Autumnal morning. Manchester, UK

(The original line is, of course, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.")

Take note...

2010-09-21T01:32:00.000+01:00

Manchester, UK.

I always notice the notices. If you do too, take photos and send them to But Then Feminism Happens. There are only so many disgusting graffiti-daubed toilets a girl can visit.

I know. The fuckers keep redecorating them.

An existential-blog moment.

2010-09-16T23:19:00.000+01:00

Manchester, UK.

Sometimes - not often, but sometimes - I wonder if this blog serves any purpose other than to highlight the disgusting drinking establishments I frequent.

Some of the biggest mistakes of my life...

2010-09-08T00:51:00.000+01:00

Anyone who's ever had a shit haircut can relate to the wise words of Jim. Brighton, UK.

I'm a boy!

2010-08-17T22:14:00.000+01:00

Firstly, big kisses to Sarah of Wrapped Up With String fame, who nominated my silly little blog for a One Lovely Blog Award last week. Smooches to you darl, it's appreciated! Now, for today's offering of ridiculous graffiti joy...

Brilliantly eloquent and to the point. Manchester, UK.

Fuck the mainstream!

2010-07-24T23:42:00.000+01:00

Wouldn't that just create lots of little mainstreams? Manchester, UK

Sausages are cool.

2010-07-21T00:42:00.000+01:00

When I saw this in Manchester, UK, I was a little bit drunk and thought "Yeah! That'll be a great addition to the old blog." In the cold light of day (metaphorically, as it's about 1am), I realise it's actually complete shit, but... well, I've uploaded it now and life's too short to waste editing one's toilet-graffiti blog. Enjoy!

A lesson for us all...

2010-07-14T02:41:00.000+01:00

Beware of limbo dancers, London, UK.

Go England!

2010-07-09T21:18:00.000+01:00

Whoops, London, UK.

Lost in Translation

2010-06-18T01:20:00.000+01:00

I don't really understand it either. Paris, France.

Power button...

2010-06-05T16:11:00.001+01:00

'The power button. Lick it, it's fresh!'

I can't imagine anything I'd be less inclined to do.

Paris, France.

From Paris, With Love.

2010-05-25T21:04:00.000+01:00

Apologies for the lack of updates of late. I've been living it large in France, and alas whilst there appears to be graffiti on everything ink will stick to over here, toilet cubicles are seriously lacking. Here's a token two, from a great bar we found when we stormed the Bastille. (Tape, if anyone knows it!)

Who are you calling a fatty?

2010-04-26T23:46:00.000+01:00

This one poses many questions; most importantly, what do you think they're watching you do, and why should they be interested in the first place? Brighton, UK.

If you write on the wall...

2010-04-20T23:56:00.000+01:00

Couldn't've said it better, London, UK.

Indecent proposal...

2010-04-14T15:10:00.000+01:00

I hope to god this is a real proposal. Imagine. Camden, London.

U depressing fuck

2010-04-11T22:03:00.000+01:00

I love the comment scratched into the paint next to this Sharpied quote from Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. Camden, London.

Unite for peas.

2010-04-06T23:59:00.000+01:00

Legume-related witticism from the Tate Britain, submitted by Ingrid of And So Say I fame, your one stop blog spot quenching the culture vulture within.

Night time is the right time...

2010-03-29T22:44:00.000+01:00

How long did this take? London, UK.

Groupies are so 90s...

2010-03-21T17:38:00.000Z

This feisty gem was submitted by Katie of Rock N' Rolly fame, taken in Kilburn Luminaire, London.

The blog accepts no responsibility, either.

2010-03-20T18:16:00.000Z

A disclaimer from Shoreditch, London.

How can you be bored?

2010-03-15T13:39:00.000Z

Philosophical and eloquent. Manchester UK.

Yummy mummy seeks new profession...

2010-03-11T02:03:00.000Z

A bored MILF dreams of breaking the shackles of motherhood, Manchester UK.

(Hopefully not the optimistic creature responsible for scrawling this message).

Be Still, My Beating Heart...

2010-03-08T22:09:00.000Z

A gentle sentiment in liquid eye liner, London, UK.

(Anyone recognise the quote?)

In the gutter.

2010-02-07T18:05:00.000Z

A moment of sobriety in Manchester, UK.

Two fingers to the recession nazis.

2010-02-06T19:24:00.000Z

A cubicle confession, which stirs mixed feelings from the ranks. Manchester, UK.

An introduction to the subtle, graceful art of petty vandalism.

2010-02-06T19:17:00.000Z

We're all girls, here, darlings.

Everyone likes to have something to read whilst on the lavatory, right? Alas, it isn't lady-like to stroll across a restaurant, bar or club to the little girls' room clutching a magazine. Well, lucky for us, there exists a breed of woman determined to stick two fingers to the man by performing acts of petty vandalism in the privacy of the ladies' loos.

Toilet wall graffiti pre-dates Post Secret by aeons, but we're definitely in the same ball park: anonymous messages, penned by individuals to be read by hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions of strangers.

A philosophical thought on the art of toilet graffiti prompts an intellectual nail varnished response. Manchester, UK.

Content varies dramatically, from quotes and song lyrics to confessions of love and sexual desire. Some reference pop culture preferences, some come complete with illustrations. Be it comical, confessional, intellectual or life-affirming, someone out there just had to get it out.

The tools of the trade vary. Some scribes opt for the vandal's best friend - the humble Sharpie - which suggests a pre-emptive desire to leave their mark. Other writing tools are also adopted, with biros and pencils making a regular appearance. Finally, khol eye liner, lip liner and even the occasional smudged (and near-illegible) lipsticked sentiment occur, suggesting the author became overwhelmed with the spontaneous need to graffiti whilst airing her pink bits on the lav.

Of course, like all graffiti, there is an impermanence to the art. Walls are scrubbed clean, toilets refurbished, stalls replaced, messages Sharpied out of existence. Like water trickling from our palms as we blast them under the hand-dryer, we must grasp hold of this subtle art and celebrate it before it is removed by the Squares. Welcome to But Then Feminism Happened, a humble bog-related blog.

~ Alice Practice