I’ve used men’s restrooms before, and more than my welfare, it’s the men I worry about.
A few men have backtracked and rechecked the sign on the door after seeing me washing up at the sink. If I took a photo every time that happened, I’d have an exhibit by now.
I once stopped a group of burly men in the middle of conversation when I entered a locker-type toilet during a fashion show. Inside the cubicle, I heard one of them make a catcall or crack a joke.
In the college boy’s dorm’s shared bathroom, I and my friends wrapped towels around our bodies like we’d already gone under the knife and were only being prim and proper. What a sight we must have been to our dormmates!
But for many years now, I’ve only been using the female bathroom. As long as I don’t talk (my voice is like Mariah Carey’s – when she goes for the low notes in ‘Someday’), I can pass off as a woman. Unlike when I use a male bathroom, I don’t get funny looks inside the women’s loo.
At my old office, one of the female bosses complained about my using their restroom. At my new work now, we share the female bathroom with another company in the same building. Some of the women from this company have now talked to our administration staff about a ‘bakla using their restroom.’
There are men who feel uncomfortable when transwomen (and gays) use their bathroom. These are the sort of men who feel we are out to get them, that they are difficult to resist.
There are women who feel transwomen have no right to women’s restrooms, that we are still male and are therefore intruding on their appointed sanctuary.
In the world of these types of men and women, we better start saving up for the treatment of our future sakit sa bato, from holding it in for their peace of mind. *