The hill I will die on: Bum gun, bidet or shattaf – whatever you call it, install one now | Mona Eltahawy

The first time I heard of a bidet in the United States—or at least its use—was at the beginning of an off-Broadway play I saw in 2015 called Threesome. An Egyptian-American couple is in bed waiting for a white man whom they have invited to join them for the title date. He jumps on stage after going to the bathroom, and the couple shouts at him: “Go back and wash your ass!” »

Like this couple and Threesome playwright Yussef El Guindi, I am Egyptian. In Egypt, the bathrooms of every house, as well as those in public buildings, are equipped with some sort of contraption for washing after going to the toilet: a bidet, a free-standing low oval sink next to the toilet that one straddles – or, more commonly, a shattaf, a device in the toilet itself through which water flows. Sometimes the shattaf is a small shower head attached to the wall next to the toilet. I recently learned that its name in English is bum gun. This is my favorite type of shattaf because you can control the water pressure.

But in Egypt, bidet or shattaf, everyone washes their ass.

And now, washing after going to the bathroom may finally take off in the United States thanks to New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani and his wife, Rama Duwaji, who recently moved into their official residence, Gracie Mansion, where they plan to install bidets. You see, it’s not just Egypt where people wash after going to the toilet. Zohran is of Indian origin.

The word “bidet” comes from a French term for a small horse, hence the term “enjambeur”. In Arabic, “shattaf” comes from the word clean. Variations of both can be found in many parts of Europe, the Middle East, East Asia, and some South American countries. I’m currently visiting my sister and her family in California, where every toilet in the house is equipped with a shattaf – purchased from online stores. “Zohran and Rama are going to make bidets cool! Finally!” I’ve told everyone I know.

The couple straddles many firsts between them, in addition to bidets. Mamdani, 34, is New York’s youngest mayor since 1892, its first Muslim mayor and its first South Asian mayor, as well as the first born on the African continent. Duwaji, a 28-year-old Syrian-American artist, is New York’s youngest first lady, and both the first Gen Z and first Muslim first lady. How he eats, what she wears and what they say – or don’t say – is analyzed, scrutinized and often idolized by his supporters. And demonized by his opponents – like White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt, who called Mamdani a communist as if it were an insult. I can imagine a typically rabid take of Leavitt accusing Mamdani of imposing an “Islamist” culture on America’s bathroom habits, or Vice President JD Vance complaining that only “soy boys” wash after going to the bathroom. I don’t care – I love that they make clean asses look cool.

I was seven years old when my family moved from Cairo to London in 1975. Perhaps the biggest culture shock for us was that the toilets didn’t have a bidet or a shattaf. We were horrified that someone could use the toilet and then not wash up. At home, we learned to use a watering can that we kept next to the toilet. Wet toilet paper became a poor substitute for shattaf for my brother and me at school, and at work for my parents. If this TMI is too uncomfortable, so be it. Not being able to wash after going to the toilet was a bigger discomfort, believe me. When we left the UK for Saudi Arabia in 1982, it was accompanied by another round of culture shocks – but at least all the bathrooms had a bidet or shattaf.

There was a moment, during the Covid-19 lockdown toilet paper shortage, when I thought, “This is it! People will finally understand how absolutely necessary a bidet is.” Even though sales have indeed increased, the United States remains stubbornly away from shattaf.

So here I am. I’m not inviting you to a threesome, but I’m demanding you, I’m begging you, I’m urging you: wash your ass! Install that bidet, ass gun or shattaf. You’ll thank me later.

So maybe I’ll consider a date.