The Women’s "All-Gender" Restroom
Yes, you read that right
Let me apologize in advance for *another* essay about public restrooms. Sometimes you pick your theme, and sometimes the theme picks you.
We’ve known one another for more than a decade. Two decades for some of us. We’ve worked together, we’ve been apart for years in between some jobs, and when we see each other there’s instant recognition and shared memories. Let me be the first to say that I know I’ve changed. But so have all of you. We’re all a little older, maybe a little heavier from the covid years. One of you was complaining that “everything hurts,” and we all laughed together about that. It’s so true.
And I’m getting used to a lot of these interactions being awkward for me. That’s no more your fault than it is mine or anyone else’s, it’s just a thing we all have to go through together. I look different. I sound different. But I’m still me, and you still laugh at my jokes (because they’re obviously amazing). It’s hard to adjust when we work from home and don’t see each other regularly. I wish that part was different.
But here’s the real reason I need to write this to you. That training we had on the third floor yesterday? I was really looking forward to the relief of being on the floor of that building where there are “all gender” restrooms. I know they don’t fix everything, but I don’t have any anxiety when I see those bathroom signs. Those are literally the only bathroom signs that actually make me relax when I see them. It was a great project for our employer to try out, and I so want them to be a success. There are more people like me than you realize, and we need that relief (pun absolutely intended there).
The only changes they made to those restrooms were the signage and a little black privacy strip on either side of the stall doors. Nothing else. So you can see the signage outside that shows what equipment is inside (toilet, urinal, sink).
How can this NOT be a perfectly simple solution to the issue?
I stopped briefly in that first break and looked at both signs, head turning left and then right. I wasn’t even close enough to really see the symbols on the signs. I just picked one and went in.
Please stop and realize how incredible it was for me in that moment to
Have choices, and
Know that all that tea I drank had an escape route.
Was I bold when I opened the door? Did I not wait long enough during the break to decide to go? We only had ten minutes. And I had tried to delay, to let everyone else go through at their pace first. Because it’s easier if I’m alone.
But I wasn’t.
There were four of you there, all women I’ve known for decades. We had just been in the same training room for two hours together. We shared donuts.
And as I stood there in the threshold of that “all gender” restroom, you all stared at me in a way that spoke volumes. Here is what you said with your eyes, your posture, your restricted breathing:
“What are you doing in here?”
“You don’t belong with us.”
“This is the women’s all gender bathroom.”
I ducked my head and beelined into a stall until you left. Your conversation had ended, you didn’t speak another word.
You probably felt really awkward. You felt like I’d trespassed, like I’d made a choice and then backtracked or something. You think I was in the wrong.
But was there even a tiny shred of a moment when you thought about what that did to me? How it felt to have all of you stare me down like that? To treat me as though I am so different that I don’t even belong in an “all gender” restroom?
I don’t even know how to bring this up, or how to get this letter to the group of you, but I wish you could read this and see what it was like for me. Instant relief on the outside of the door, backlash the moment I walked in. That should have been my safe space. It should have been the same exact environment as the hallway, the classroom, the bus, the sidewalk. I had every right to be in there, and so did you. So why did that happen? Why was it so hard?
And the moment you walked out and shared a funny glance with one another, it was over for you. You dusted your hands of the event and moved on with your day.
But here I still am, wondering, writing about it, thinking of how I could have known something like that would happen. Trying to wrap my head around the concept of a “women’s all gender restroom” and a “men’s all gender restroom.” I’m pretty sure that’s not what the designers had in mind when they changed those signs.
On the second break of the morning training session I used the “men’s all gender restroom,” and things went a lot better. It was quiet, zero confrontations, and the one other guy at the sink warned me that the faucet was a spitter. We both smiled and laughed. But that was the “men’s all gender restroom,” and it felt like it.
That’s still a problem.
Supporting your transgender friends, family, and coworkers doesn’t always look the way you expect it to. It’s not just about getting our pronouns right and respecting our names. It helps when you laugh at our jokes and treat us as the same people you grew up with and have worked with for years. We are those same people. But in these other little moments, the places where you feel awkward or weird, please don’t push those feelings back onto us. Especially if you’re in a group and we are alone. And if you’re tired of hearing about trans people having issues with bathrooms, try to understand that we’re still talking about it because it’s still a problem. You can be part of the solution. You can be welcoming and supportive. You can demonstrate that an all gender bathroom is a neutral space for everyone. You can even vote no on policies or laws that make restrooms unsafe for transgender people, and you can support legislators who promote gender inclusive laws.
You have so much power in a look or a glance. Please don’t use it to exclude me.
Your trans friend,
Robin
Ugh. A clear example of how changed signs do not shift cultural beliefs and norms.