Ep 182: Pinky Pinky

Pinky Pinky: Apartheid, Anxiety, and the Bathroom Boogeyman

Welcome back to Privy—the podcast that dares to ask life’s most important questions, like “Why is the porcelain always cold?” and “Who’s hiding in your bathroom?”

I’m your host, Hunter Hoover, broadcasting once again from my bathroom—the only studio with built-in plumbing. And today, we’re keeping the Spooky Season train rolling with another installment of Spoopky Season (that’s spooky + poopy, for the uninitiated).

Last time, we talked about the Golgothan—the biblical poop demon from Dogma. But this time, we’re going real-world spooky. Real history. Real horror. Real bathrooms.

Because today, we’re talking about the South African toilet monster known as Pinky Pinky—a creature born not just from fear, but from one of the darkest periods in modern history: apartheid.

Setting the Stage: Apartheid and Anxiety

Before we summon our monster, we’ve got to set the scene.

Early 1900s South Africa was a mess of colonial greed and racial division. European settlers—first the Dutch, then the British—wanted the land, the labor, and, when gold and diamonds were discovered, the money. The system they built around this greed eventually became apartheid—a literal policy of “apartness,” or racial segregation.

Black South Africans were stripped of their land, their voting rights, and their basic freedoms. Schools, hospitals, and neighborhoods were divided by race. And when anyone protested? They were often met with violence—like in 1960, when peaceful demonstrators in Sharpeville were gunned down by police. Sixty-nine people killed, nearly two hundred injured, all for daring to resist oppression.

The world finally condemned apartheid (thanks, UN, glad you could join the conversation), but the damage was deep. Generations grew up under fear, displacement, and injustice.

Fear Finds a Face

Even after apartheid began to collapse in the late 1980s, fear didn’t just vanish. You can’t dismantle decades of systemic racism overnight, and the infrastructure—schools, housing, and yes, bathrooms—was still segregated and unsafe.

Many schools had outdoor toilets—rundown outhouses or pit latrines set apart from the main buildings. For young girls, this meant walking outside alone, sometimes through dark or deserted areas, to use the restroom.

And in a world where violence against women was tragically common, those trips weren’t just creepy—they were dangerous.

So, parents and teachers started to do what humans have done for thousands of years when reality gets too terrifying: they told stories.

The Birth of Pinky Pinky

In the 1990s, a story began circulating in South African townships. Kids whispered it in classrooms and shared it on playgrounds. A story about a monster that waited in bathrooms, preying on young girls.

They called it Pinky Pinky.

Descriptions varied, but the gist was consistent: Pinky Pinky was a half-human, half-animal creature with claws, glowing eyes, and bright pink hair. And—here’s where it gets weird—he had a thing for pink underwear.

(Which is just… no. If your ghost starts showing fashion preferences, it’s time to call a priest and a therapist.)

But this wasn’t just some campfire tale or made-up Slenderman clone. Pinky Pinky was rooted in something real—anxiety, trauma, and the collective attempt to make sense of danger that never really went away.

Monsters Have Meaning

Unlike ancient spirits or folklore demons, Pinky Pinky isn’t tied to religion or mythology. He’s a modern monster—a mirror of a society scarred by apartheid and gender-based violence.

In many ways, Pinky Pinky is a stand-in for the real predators of that time—men who attacked women and girls in or around those unsafe, neglected school bathrooms.

Telling the story of Pinky Pinky became a way to talk about fear without naming it directly. “Be careful, don’t go alone,” parents would say, “or Pinky Pinky will get you.” It was protection disguised as superstition.

A bathroom bogeyman born not from legend, but from lived experience.

The Real Horror

What makes Pinky Pinky terrifying isn’t just the glowing eyes or the claws—it’s the truth underneath.

The monster represented something people couldn’t talk about openly: the ongoing threat of violence, the lingering shadows of apartheid, and the reality that safety was still a privilege, not a guarantee.

So yes, it’s Spoopky Season. But this one’s not about jump scares—it’s about how fear takes shape when justice doesn’t.

The Flushdown

Pinky Pinky may have started as a story to keep kids safe, but like all monsters, he reveals more about us than about himself.

He’s a reminder that even in freedom, fear lingers. That trauma echoes. And that sometimes, the scariest monsters are the ones we make to explain the ones we can’t face.

So this Spoopky Season, as you check under the bed or behind the shower curtain, maybe give the toilet a little side-eye too.

Because you never know where fear—and folklore—might be hiding.

And as always, friends: keep pooping in the free world, own your stank, fight those Pinky Pinkies… and don’t forget to flush.