Why do people drink their own piss?
I’ve often wondered if childhood fears reveal something deep about our psyche; whether our adult choices are somehow wrapped up in them. When I was a child, I was fascinated and horrified by stories of people stranded in deserts. Someone would be driving along a long road and their engine would fail. They would be stuck, torn between leaving the vehicle to find help and following the advice to stay with it. My primary fear was the unquenchable thirst. In the stories, the stranded adventurers would have some water in a bottle, and there would be more in the engine if they really got desperate.
There were techniques for collecting moisture at night, using a tarpaulin stretched out with a bottle or cup beneath, and it was also, I remember, possible to drink from cacti if there were any about. After this, however, there was only one option: to drink your own piss. This, I think, was the part that really horrified me. It felt proscribed. Something disgusting that a person would only do if they had no alternatives; that they would only stoop to if their very life were at risk.
But what does this childhood fear reveal about me as an adult? I suppose it shows that, when approached to write an article for The Fence on urine consumption, I am likely to say yes.
For some, it seems, drinking one’s own piss is not an act of desperation to be undertaken only in cases of dire need, but an active choice, with devotees extolling the virtues of the practice on health and wellness grounds. And people don’t stop at drinking the stuff. True converts also rub it into their skin, and even squirt it into their eyes. The practice garnered attention in the world of mixed martial arts when two fighters, Lyoto Machida and Juan Manuel Márquez, revealed that urophagia is part of their regimen. Machida suffered from a bad cough and his father advised him to drink his own urine, and he’s been doing it ever since. Márquez believes it helps with intense training.
My initial reaction to urine therapy was revulsion. But I do feel the need to try to take some of their claims seriously. The practice is ancient. There are texts from ancient Egypt that espouse the benefits of drinking one’s own waters. And it’s worth noting that there are some seemingly disgusting practices that do have proven benefits, and are therefore not to be sneered at.
What do the arts tell us? In the film, Waterworld, Kevin Costner negotiates a post-apocalyptic future in which the entire world is covered by the oceans. He lives alone on a raft that drifts the high seas. But what does he do to remain hydrated? We all know that seawater is too salty to drink. Luckily, there’s something else that is just salty enough. The film features a scene with Costner pouring some of his own good stuff into a kind of filtration machine, and then drinking the resultant product (with some relish). The tycoon Howard Hughes famously collected his own urine in bottles and jars. We know this because Leonardo DiCaprio dramatised it in his portrayal of Hughes for The Aviator. The billionaire sits in his mansion surrounded by piss as it slowly ferments.
China has a strong tradition of urine consumption for therapeutic purposes, and it is associated with long life, softening the blood vessels, and increasing circulation. In Dongyang, near Shanghai, schoolboy urine is collected by a local entrepreneur who then hard-boils eggs in it, presumably for those squeamish about drinking the stuff outright, or who simply prefer it that way. According to one consumer, these eggs cooked in urine offer protection from the summer heatwave. They are considered a delicacy and served in springtime. And now this learning is being mixed with western medicine, and scientists are extracting stem cells from urine.
There are also some who suggest a conspiracy by the medical establishment to keep the benefits of urophagia under wraps. Because it is, after all, a free resource, Big Pharma would be wholly unable to profit from it. While I have no doubt that large pharmaceutical companies in America go to lengths to maximise profits, this notion seems to fall apart from within the United Kingdom, where one would suppose that the NHS would leap at a panacea that was, quite literally, free at the point of need.
For the rest of us, it seems to break an age-old taboo. The anthropologist Mary Douglas claimed that dirt was ‘matter out of place’, or an attempt by societies to distinguish the sacred from the profane; the pure from the tainted. Within this framework, waste products must be kept within their proper place – either inside the body or elsewise the sewage system. In a sense, urophagists are abiding by the first stricture, only in a distorted way. Where, then, did these people go wrong? Can the tendency to imbibe piss be traced back to early childhood?
As I read more about the wellness trend, I began to wonder whether there could be practices that could be identified as ‘entry drugs’; steps towards drinking one’s own urine. Where do urophagists begin? I, for example, am partial to a morning Berocca. My flavour preference is orange, which, let’s be frank, can look a bit like wee. Is this a slippery slope? Am I unwittingly dipping my toes in briny waters? It is well known that apple cider vinegar – or ‘ACV’ as the aficionados call it – is the health elixir du jour. People add it to their cooking or to smoothies or they drink it mixed with water. It is also common to put a couple of cups of the stuff into the bath to soak in it. Apparently, it is good for your skin, and can regulate your natural microbiome. Rubbing it through your hair can increase glossiness.
However, I then came across people who bathe in diluted cider vinegar and then drink that used bathwater. This, which I think you’ll agree is truly disgusting, is, I think, moving in the direction of urophagia. There is something revolting about the consumption of one’s own waste products – whether it’s urine or water inflected with the grime from one’s skin. I have a friend who imbibes ACV in a glass of water every morning. The other day, I asked her if she would ever consider upgrading to urine. Her answer: ‘No.’
