My dear boy,
Everyone poops. As obvious as that sounds, there exist those who have yet to comprehend the truth in that statement. In the very moment we answer the call of nature, there is no other moment as vulnerable as that. That moment brings us closest to who we truly are: dust. Your father, a gentleman, nevertheless has been out there.
Now I remember this. Whenever we went out sports fishing, this was what we called a moment where we stepped out to flirt with beautiful women. My very good friend, your uncle, Four, and I did that together until we turned over a new leaf. Sports fishing was simply going out there, rousing the interest of the women enough to get their phone numbers, but never calling them. Hence, the game was won by whoever could get the most phone numbers. It was fun for us. In fact, it was our way of unwinding when we had a tough day.
You simply had your bath, freshened up, applied some perfume or any body spray that you could lay your hands on and stepped out to Club 89. Club 89 is the female hostel. Anyone who attended the University of Calabar knows this. Why it was called that, I really do not know. Club 89 was pretty much Halls 8, 9, and their environs. Hall 8 had really hot chicks. Hall 9, on the other hand, seemed to have problematic ladies. It was safe for you to flock to Hall 8. Now, there was the Scholarship Hostel. The Scholarship Hostel housed a certain breed of girls. They walked a certain type of way, as though they were better than the rest, but don’t be deceived; some of the rich girls were in Hall 9. Well, some of the very, very crazy girls were in the Scholarship Hostel.
Anyway, at that point in time when you are tending to your fecal needs, you are most vulnerable. In fact, some would tell you that at moments such as that, nothing else matters. We can lend credence to this, given that in such moments our spirits are open to receiving ideas. It’s as though there is this uninterrupted connection to the Divine. It feels like finally being where you’re supposed to be. There is an alignment found among our bodies, our spirits, and our souls. Hence, the transmission of ideas between these three entities flows uninterrupted.
Why am I sharing this with you, my boy? Whenever we went sports fishing, we were bound to see women whose beauty made you ask silly questions. You asked questions such as, how did they get here? It’s almost as though you forget their humanness when they step out of the hostel. It’s like an unseen uppercut whooshing across your face. However, if there is anything to center a man, to ensure that he doesn’t stumble under the weight of an inferiority complex, it is the realization that everyone poops.
You stand there, you see this girl, beautiful, prettier than any woman you may have ever seen (and this feeling happens every time we are out), glowing in the dark. It’s as though she’s in competition with the moonlight. In some cases, she becomes one with the moonlight, such that the moon up above is dark because she is all the light the moon can muster. Yet you look at her, and all that comes to mind is, “She poops,” and if she poops, she can’t be any better than me. She can’t be above whom I can talk to, because she poops and I poop. This creates a level playing field. While your heart is trapped in a maze of beauty and wonder, your mind calls it back with a singular understanding: she poops.
Now, my boy, though we did that in our varsity days, I cannot begin to narrate how instrumental it has been for me outside the four walls of the university. When I step into rooms that overwhelm me with the presence of the people therein, I remind myself, “everyone poops.” As such, when I look across the table, I imagine the person at the head of the table pooping. Is this an attempt to strip people of their hard-earned status? No, this is the mechanics of mental stabilization, in that you see people through a lens that says, “When it’s all said and done, they’re human, just as I am human.” Thus, our interactions ensue from that plane. They don’t have to know, nor do they have to agree.
Therefore, when you find yourself unsure about being in a room or wrestling with thoughts of being undeserving (it is called imposter syndrome these days), remember everyone poops. From that vantage point, let your fraternization commence. Nevertheless, all men may be created equal, but all men are not equal. It will be foolish of you to assume otherwise. As such, apply this mechanism of mental stabilization before men whose presence and aura can be towering. I encourage you to be a man who respects hierarchy, for we cannot have that which we do not respect. In Band of Brothers, Major Winters corroborates this assertion when he rightly tells Captain Sobel, “We salute the rank, not the man.”
Do not be one of those who, in their attempt to appear revolutionary, foolishly attack traditions and structures which have over time kept societies in place. Yes, everyone poops, but that doesn’t mean that the next time you see me, you should imagine me tending to my fecal needs. I’m still your father. Have a good one, boy.
Love,
Dad.
