Why You Should Sing in Public Showers: Toward a Sociology of NGAF

After a quick swim, I stepped into the public shower at the Y. Like most of you, I have a pretty standard routine in public showers.  I avoid making eye contact with others, wash quickly, and then bounce to the locker room.  It's like I was never there.  The public shower, like the subway or bus, is a place where people practice what Erving Goffman calls “civil inattention.”  There’s an expectation that you should enter this space, tacitly acknowledge others, but keep to yourself.  Engaging with someone in a space that feels so intimate and revealing can be awkward and intrusive.  And so, people walk into the showers heads down and go about their business without ever socially connecting with others.  

But, something interesting happened tonight…

As I was getting ready to leave, somebody started singing.  At first it was faint, a muffled echo against the sounds of a dozen showers squirting hot water on bodies.  But, then the singing got louder.  I glanced around the shower and saw an old guy, pushing 70, with white wispy hair singing into his shower head.  His eyes were closed and he was singing while scrubbing his armpits.  Sometimes, he sang into the oncoming jet stream of water; his singing would become a gargling yodel. 

Making a fool out of yourself can feel good & bring joy to others

This was funny and people started holding back laughter.  His voice grew louder and louder, echoing off the tile walls, piercing through the thick cloud of steam enveloping all of us.  I glanced through the mist and made eye contact with a few others, who were smiling and smirking.  It was like we were suddenly in on the joke—a secret society brought together by this guy’s cringe-worthy singing.

At one point, he got so loud that a YMCA staff member walked into the shower, peeked around the corner, and started cracking up when he saw the guy—in his birthday suit—singing his heart out.

Gene Kelly knew the joys of singing in public

By this point, some people were laughing out loud and a couple people were talking to each other.  The mood was light and people seemed happy.  And then, at a break in the action, someone else started singing!  At first I couldn't make out what this new person was singing, but I thought it sounded like he was humming Sam Cooke’s version of “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.”  (on a sidenote: it might have just been a bunch of gibberish.  I sometimes imagine hearing Sam Cooke music in the background of everyday life).

This tandem had become an impromptu acapella team. People were laughing as they combined powers, producing a loud, cacophonous symphony of sounds that must have sounded like humpback mating calls to people in the locker room.  

I walked out of the shower smiling, feeling light.  As I got changed, I replayed this event in my head, thinking about how the first guy had really gone out on a limb.  He made a fool of himself and in doing so, had set in motion something beautiful to witness.  The first guy (we'll call him "Gene") emancipated everyone else from the social pressures of maintaining a cool, serious, or respectable front.  And perhaps more importantly, he had inspired someone else to do the same.  

All of this got me thinking, maybe there is some real (sociological) truth to William Purkey’s famous quote:

“You’ve gotta dance like there’s nobody watching,

Love like you’ll never be hurt,

Sing like there’s nobody listening,

And live like it’s heaven on earth.”

I think Purkey was right.  Living unafraid of judgement and failure is a liberating way to be.  But, making a fool out of yourself isn't only personally liberating.  It also helps others feel less self-conscious.  It gives people around you courage and nudges them to loosen up and live a little.  So, next time you're in a stuffy, impersonal, or cold space, start singing.  Or dancing.  Or do something weird and silly.  What do you have to lose?  You will feel better and so will everyone else around you.