laurengo.ca

Let me paint a picture for you. You are on your way to a friend’s get-together. You have some library books to return so you make a pit stop. You need to pee. For most people they just pick the bathroom they’ve always picked and everything is well.

But now imagine you’re trans. You approach the two bathrooms and do gender calculus in your head. How are you dressed, how is your hair, what’s the environment, are there people around. You want to know if you can go into your chosen bathroom without being clocked as trans, because you’ve seen the news and the social media posts, you know what can happen to people who transgress against gender. Maybe you get yelled at. Maybe worse.

But get this, if you’re a trans woman on progesterone then you need to pee all the time, it’s one of the medication’s side effects. The trip from your house to your friend’s house is now rife with opportunity for something to go wrong. Most of the time nothing goes wrong. Most of the time.

Against my better judgement I bite the bullet and go into the men’s. That is no guarantee of safety either, by the way. That’s the wanton indiscriminate terror of bigotry, you’re a man or a woman when it’s convenient to hurt you, they’ll decide what you are for you.

Usually I would go to the women’s bathroom. But it’s cold out, I’m dressed for warmth and look androgynous at best in a heavy coat and hat. I had a haircut recently and people have been misgendering me more than ever. The little comforts for myself have been turned against me, another reminder of my place on society’s margins.