The Joy in a Safe Place to Pee
“But that’s what Pride is for me, it’s knowing that things have historically been and continue to be dangerous, and yet we still show up for ourselves.”
When I sit down to write about the joy of finding a safe place to pee, my mind immediately started describing the difficulties I’ve had in public bathrooms over the past 24 years. Separating out the joy of finding a safe place versus the stress of not knowing if there is a safe place is an exercise in perspective.
But that’s what Pride is for me, it’s knowing that things have historically been and continue to be dangerous, and yet we still show up as ourselves.
Peeing in public is one of those times that can be dangerous.
And yet…
In the past two plus decades of my queer life, I have seen a lot change.
Thinking back to the early aughts, I can’t even count the number of times I had to assert that I was in the correct bathroom. When I was in straight bars, restaurants or stores, I always had a straight or femme friend come with me to the bathroom. They were my buffer -- my insurance policy. No one was going to question whether or not I belonged if I had an obvious member of the team by my side.
And now? Most of the time people don’t even look at me. I’m not sure if people have changed or if I’ve changed. Could it be that two decades of lesbians in media have helped people be able to detect a lez in the wild? Or maybe I just don’t care as much about whether or not people think I belong? Either way, I go in, pee, wash my hands and leave. If I’m being stared at, I don’t see it because I have tunnel vision.
Single stall and all-gender restrooms are now so common that the elation I felt when I used to stumble upon them is now just a sigh of relief.
“I can pee safely,” I think to myself.