It happens to me at least once a day. That warm uncomfortable squiggle beneath my stomach. The furrow in my brow. The inevitable question...which public restroom do I use? Where am I less likely to be confronted? Why do I have to think about this every time I pee?
This happened to me yet again about two months ago. I wasn't paying attention to where I was, and my proximity to a large group of my fellow "gender offenders" made me a little less self conscious. I made my way to the can. "Excuse me..." A rather sweet-looking young lady sneers at me. "Yes?" "You're not a woman." she states, with an impetuous stamp of her foot. "I thought it was just a toilet," I reply, wishing in this moment that I had some glitter to pass on to this poor person who was taking themselves a bit too seriously.
I ducked into the Lou, and did my business, and when I emerged from the coffee shop's WC the person who had confronted me was gone. I went back to my table and relayed the event to my friends.
Three of them seemed shocked that anyone would take issue with one's preferred restroom choice, it being such a basic human function. They couldn't believe me when I told them this kind of confrontation happens to me at least once a day, no matter which room I choose. I don't fit into either of those accepted representations of "male" or "female". It is my belief that this two-partied gender system is broken.
And this is when I had a...EUREKA moment. What if on Saturday September 19, all day, anyone who was interested staged a little dramatics in the john? Use the opposite restroom to what you usually use all day. If you feel uneasy alone, take a friend. If you'd rather, only do it once. If anyone confronts you...simply reply "It's just a toilet..." Isn't it? After your moment, if anything happens, if nothing happens...tweet about it, or write us a blog (send to email@example.com).
September 19 is my 26th birthday. And I, Peter Noble, can think of no greater present than some Chicago-wide restroom genderfunkery.
Peter Danger Noble co-founder Genderqueer Chicago