[diary~dad]

The Sacred Space
By Joseph Kelly


I have a bit of an issue with toilets. Let me explain.

When I was a kid I went to a school in the country. The school was built in the settlement era and had been outgrown years before I arrived. As a result, the school was a jumbled maze of red brick buildings, portable class rooms and corrugated iron sheds. The toilet block must have been an after thought when the building budget was almost exhausted because for the whole time I was a student at the school it never had a roof. Luckily we lived in the sort of town that counted its average rainfall in millimeters.

I remember one vivid day in grade 3 when I was desperately in need of the school’s facilities. When I entered the toilet block I saw three grade sixers leaning back trying to pee over the toilet block wall. While none was successful their efforts lent a certain texture to the ambiance of the toilets. The older I got, the toilets at school appeared to get no more sanitized. By the time I left high school the only thing worse than the stench at the urinals was the graffiti in the toilet stalls.

Given my experiences, then, it’s no wonder that when I had my two little girls I was pretty sure that the last place I would ever want to send them to is the boys’ toilets. This, however, becomes both problematic and embarrassing when I’m in a public place without Susie and one of the girls needs to go. The first time it happened I ran around looking for a parenting room or a disabled toilet but with no luck. Finally, because Maisie won’t go into a public toilet on her own, I took her into the women’s toilets and stood in front of the cubical. A middle aged woman who came in was obviously shocked to see me standing there and froze at the half-open toilet door. When I explained what I was doing she kindly offered to look out for Maisie while I waited outside. No problem.

A couple of months ago I found myself in the same situation and forced to make the same decision. This time, however, I incurred the wrath of a couple of angry patrons. “Men can’t enter the women’s toilets” one woman told me, as if it was the eleventh commandment, “you’ll have to use the men’s”. I tried to be disarmingly charming, witty and informative all at the same time. “I don’t need to use the toilet, she does, and she’s not a man” If I was really trying to be charming, witty and informative I could tell by the reaction I had failed. While one of the women stayed with Maisie the other marched me outside and gave me chapter and verse about the sacred space that is the women’s toilets and how, on pain of death, I should never violate that space.

Applying the workplace lunch room straw poll produced some interesting results. Generally the women with children were sympathetic, while the women without had stricter views. What I found most astonishing was the amount of men, be they parents or nay, who said that the thought of entering a women’s toilet would never enter their minds in a million years, not for any conceivable reason.

Which makes me wonder – is it just me? Am I alone out there or is it acceptable to put the comfort of your child above your own discomfort – and the discomfort of other toilet patrons – by breaching the sacred space that is the women’s toilets?

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This post has been edited by diary~dad: 23/06/2010, 11:14 AM

[andrew2701]

I have two young girls myself, and will take them in to the womens' if necessary.

What I don't understand about your experience, however, is why did you wait *outside* the cubicle? I go *inside* - there might be an awkward moment when you first enter and while you're getting hands washed, but no-one gives you grief inside.

You might have to deal with some attitude from your kid in the cubicle (I don't have that problem yet - our girls are both younger than 5) but it's much less embarrassing than getting a dressing-down in public from a complete stranger about female toilet etiquette.