The Bathroom as a Mirror
Reflecting how we see each other
Written by Mason Bunce, TE Intern
Take a moment and think about bathrooms—not just what they are, but what emotions they evoke in your mind.
What is your reaction when someone brings up needing to use a public bathroom?
“I have to go drop the kids off at the pool,” they say, trying to lighten the fact that they have to go poop. The little group you’re all with seems to have a moment of silence, a unanimous awkwardness that fills the room. Then, once someone gets up to go, you all start slowly talking again, but as you do that, you watch as they walk to the restroom, and with that viewing comes the foul stink of judgment, a tinge of lingering discomfort. A few minutes later, the friend comes back; no one addresses it, though, almost as though it never happened.
How do you feel when you need to get up and go? Is it this same feeling of discomfort? Awkwardness? Do you shame yourself? We often seem to be uncomfortable with the thought, but why?
What if we could change how we feel about bathrooms? What if we could change how we treat others who need them?
I want you to consider this: bathrooms are a universal part of life.
Everyone, everywhere, needs a bathroom.
However, this fundamental need has become a source of embarrassment, stigma, and stress for much, if not all, of society.
We find ourselves rushing in and out of bathrooms as well as hiding our bathroom needs behind jokes or euphemisms. We also often hold it in to the point where it’s painful. But look on the bright side: at least nobody will judge you now, right?
Wrong.
Society drives us to constantly worry about how others perceive us, so much so that we lose touch with ourselves and often hide our authenticity and needs. We’ve learned to conform to a toxic culture of putting forth a perfect, almost fake image of ourselves, but what if we didn’t have to?
What if we didn’t always feel the need to hide our need to use the bathroom—to sneak away quietly and whisper coded phrases like, “I’ll be right back” or, “Nature’s calling?” What if we didn’t add so much tension and discomfort to something so human?
Bathrooms are not gross or shameful. They are essential, even sacred, places that allow us to take care of ourselves. They offer us comfort where we would otherwise not find it.
In fact, bathrooms go beyond just a place for us to pee or poop; they act as a separate little world, allowing us to feel free from any discrimination and feel especially worthy—to feel comfortable in our skin.
For transgender people and others who don’t fit within binary gender expectations, though, bathrooms can be dangerous or humiliating.
Imagine you’ve lived your whole life feeling overwhelmed and buried by the awful feeling that you are not in the right body. You spend countless hours thinking of how you would rather be—how you would rather feel. There’s a longing for something new, but that quickly succumbs to the dread of knowing you’ll have to wake up the next morning as someone you don’t want to be.
However, you hold on, and years later, you’ve found that dream self, one that lives with authenticity and love; that is, until you have to step into the bathroom.
You step into the bathroom, having to relieve yourself of the cramps in your stomach. You notice the limited number of smalls—fewer stalls than what were in the bathrooms you used to use. Upon walking into the bathroom, you slightly winced when you saw the sign, almost as though it was saying, “Men only.” You would’ve used a single bathroom—family or gender neutral—but the facility didn’t have one available. You would’ve held it in, but the pain was unbearable, and you were miles from home. It’s okay, though. You’re going to hurry; get in, get out. All is well until the population of the bathroom goes from one to three. You’re met with looks of disgust as you walk out of the stall. The two men shout a derogatory word at you and raise their fists as they threaten to harm you. Your stomach clenches, but it’s not from the cramps this time; it’s from fear. You pause for a moment, calculating the escape route, but there’s no time. They start to come towards you when you suddenly push through them and run. You run as fast as you can. They follow you until you get to your car. There, you lock the doors and drive away, mentally noting to never step foot in that bathroom again.
You’re shamed, judged, and even scorned—not only by the people in the bathroom, but society as a whole, constantly commenting on your ability to use the bathroom that fits your identity. Something as basic as relieving oneself becomes overcome by fear, confrontation, and rejection.
No one should have to choose between holding it in and risking their safety.
To go further, many bathrooms are also a place of added discomfort for those who menstruate. Because they either lack the proper resources or provide them at a cost, there’s often a silent shame that lingers in these facilities, making it unwelcoming. You just know that everyone heard that crinkle as you wrapped up your tampon to throw it in the trash.
In fact, there have been many instances where students are left to bleed through their clothes because their school bathrooms had no period products, or they were too embarrassed to ask for help, which was a result of the silence that society encourages most people to have.
These moments are not rare.
Why is it that we, as a population, have built up these standards that encourage people to withhold their needs and priorities?
Unhoused citizens, who never cease to meet pushback from communities, often go hours or days without access to a clean restroom. Public restrooms are often locked, monitored, or far from reach. With nowhere to go, many are left to use alleys, bushes, or parks, compounding both their physical health risks and the sense of being seen as unworthy.
Without the ability to take care of your basic human needs in a dignified manner, it’s hard to feel much self-worth, so much so that you begin to feel a toll on your mental and emotional wellness. Then comes the dread—the fear that this may not be a one-time thing, and you’ll be in the same position in a few hours when you need to go again.
The most basic need—access to clean and safe restrooms—has been wiped away, or worse, it has never existed. It is a major obstacle for people in the world, including many of our community members.
What if society didn’t feel the need to look down on others?
It is the aspect of society where they “other” a group that truly sparks the lack of bathroom access.
For example, one woman shared that, before she was given a place to poop by Toilet Equity, she would rely on the bushes around her because, “you don’t go in the store [nor a convenience store] when you’re homeless;” if you do, “they’ll call the cops on you” and make up any excuse to send you to jail.
Society labels her “homeless,” thinking she’s not trying to find a home. That’s not the case, though, as she does put forth effort into finding a place to stay.
The problem is the community, notably the way society thrives in its usage of hierarchical structures and desire for status and approval. That status and approval are withheld from each of us when we do something as basic as going to the bathroom, let alone lack access to one all of the time.
It is the community’s lack of interest, resources, and aid that makes it especially difficult for people to find housing, especially because they make it so that one’s “voice is not validated,” as though the community itself is “like a prison.”
The woman “can work,” but there are no jobs available for her. That is not her fault, though, and there is absolutely no merit behind her getting punished or shamed due to the community’s lack of understanding.
We commonly think, “Well, if it isn’t affecting me, why do I have to do something about it?” Well, it’s because doing something about it is to have basic human empathy.
To have a community is to build each other up—to be bridge builders, allowing everyone to walk the path of life not with shame and contempt, but with gratitude and compassion for each other.
The idea that everyone should have access to a bathroom that’s clean, safe, and available isn’t just about convenience or necessarily what you need; rather, it’s about compassion and respect for others as well as the establishment of a positive experience for everyone, regardless of their identity.
For someone with a medical condition, bathroom access is not a preference—it’s a need. For someone menstruating unexpectedly, or someone with a disability, or even a parent managing their child’s emergency, bathroom access is not a preference—it’s a need.
Access to a bathroom should never be a source of shame or panic. It should be a source of relief—a reminder that your needs matter and that you matter.
It’s more so the recognition of their humanity than it is a bathroom.
Thus, work must be done to promote bathroom access and provide a sense of belonging to everyone, whether it’s done through organizations or society as a whole. Organizations like Toilet Equity are reshaping how we think about bathrooms. We’re tackling the stigma head-on, advocating for cleaner, safer, and more inclusive facilities for all. Whether it’s installing public restrooms in underserved areas or pushing for an equitable place for all, we are leading with compassion.
So, what if we created a new normal?
What if we taught our children that bathrooms are not shameful, but essential? What if we stopped whispering about our needs and started advocating for spaces that honor them? What if public restrooms weren’t just functional, but welcoming?
By changing how we view bathrooms, we change how we view each other.
We move from judgment to empathy, from exclusion to inclusion, and from shame to dignity.
Let’s build a society where no one is embarrassed to take care of themselves. Where everyone, regardless of gender, housing status, ability, or identity, has access to clean, safe, and affirming bathrooms.
At the end of the day, access to a bathroom shouldn’t be a privilege; it should be a right.
