Don't Judge a Bathroom by It's Sign

Before somebody asks, yes, I’m biologically a girl.

To many, especially any average Joe on the street, I am seen as a guy

Which is awesome, since I identify as one, but,

Not when you feel the flood gates of the dam down there about to break while you’re in public

And you are with your mom who still sees you as her little girl.


There was this one time, Sophomore year,

On a family trip to DisneyLand,

My liquids of the day had filled up inside me like a water balloon

And I felt I was going to burst

But I was with my mother.

So I had to go into the bathroom with the sign that has the person in the triangular dress.


I walked through the sea of moms and daughters

And safely made it in and

Out of the stall

Washed my hands without a hitch.


However, when I was leaving the over crowded washroom,

A girl, whose voice I cannot connect to a face,

Pulled back a bow loaded with her words and it didn’t

Hit me until I was back outside


“Dude. You are like fourteen!”


I wish I had seen this girl

I wish I could have said to her that

‘First of all, I’m sixteen’

‘And second of all, I have lady parts just like you’

‘But hey, thanks for seeing me as a guy’


But since my mind has a tendency to process things late at times

And we were in such a congested area,

I was never able to see who called out to me

The chance to confront my perpetrator was gone

Faster than I could take another breath.


And that is why I have a hard time using public restrooms

Like an unfinished map,

I do not know where to turn next.

If I go into the woman's, or the men’s,

There is not a chamber where I can relieve myself that I feel I am socially accepted into.


Every day I wonder,

I wonder if my femininity gets in the way of my masculinity,

If the way I dress is enough to be seen as a boy

If it is safe for me to rescue my small bladder by entering the sector designated for guys.


Don’t worry about me, though.

I am working on my confidence

I won’t let my binder push back my bravery

I will love myself for who I am

And I will shakily push open the door to the bathroom

With the sign that has the person with the two rectangular legs.


This poem is about: 
My country


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