I Feel Personally Attacked By Rain Showerheads

Is it possible to make a cleaning device your enemy? I’m not talking about loathing robot vacuums or an air conditioner you can control from your phone. No, I’m here to get on my high horse, her Royal Pettiness, about the absurdity of a rain showerhead. Nothing in the world will guarantee my foul mood more than the impractical, anxiety-inducing, irritating experience of a “rainfall” shower. For some reason, hotels worldwide have taken this Pinterest board idea too far, and I’m here on six legs (mine and my high horse’s) to stand against this abomination to women and the rest of mankind.

Why would I, as a Black woman, ever want to stand directly under an unrelenting stream of water? I paid too much to look like this. While it may appear chic and calming, I have never experienced a more stress-inducing experience than five minutes with a rain showerhead. And I’m not alone. . .

Several TikToks supply a litany of complaints women have against rain showerheads: they make it nearly impossible to shower without drenching your hair, and they induce a sensation of being waterboarded or drowning. The people are singing, singing the song of angry (wo)men). There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes, and ideally, that is a new showerhead.

Below, a few questions I have for anyone who likes a rain shower (if they do indeed exist).

1: Are You Made of Gum?

Rain showers require a level of flexibility you could only attain if one (or both) of your parents are a piece of Laffy Taffy. To rinse your — ahem — undercarriage, you’re forced to either attempt a standing split or some demented variation of a herkie through the water to ensure you’re entirely rinsed. I have literally crawled backward into a stream from a rain shower to ensure I was thoroughly rinsed. And bless your heart if you need to shave anywhere between the stomach and thighs. A simple grooming session can require acrobatics akin to Cirque du Soleil or the meanest hot yoga class ever.

I guess there is one upside: You won’t need to go to the gym because between running around to dodge the stream and Elasta-Girling your way under a rain shower, you’ve got a simultaneous workout and shower.

2: Do You Have Hair?

When I shower, I often wear a shower cap on top of my bonnet and a scarf as an extra layer of protection. Even that combination isn’t enough to save my edges from the dastardly blast of a rain shower. But what really grinds my gears is how this aquatic menace is still too weak to rinse my thick hair if it’s not in small sections. Yet, it’s powerful enough to break through the Fort Knox I create to protect my hair from its unrelenting attack. I am not a scientist, but I fear this is a conspiracy.

I’m about to start a Change.org petition to ban them from public consumption. Can you sue a device for crimes against cleansing? Before you consider your rain shower, think: Do I need new enemies? In the meantime, I’ll be clutching my privilege and Jolie showerhead until we find a solution. The masses, they’re begging.

Amanda Mitchell is a writer and podcaster with bylines at PS, Marie Claire, Oprah Daily, Allure, Byrdie, StyleCaster, Bon Appétit, and more. Formerly a senior beauty writer and stories creator at Refinery29, her work exists at the apex of beauty, pop culture, and absurdity.