Maybe we do actually need to talk about this.
The Year of the Toilet
THERE was, of course, the terrorism, and talk of immigration, and guns. But 2015 has emerged as the Year of the Toilet, when private business became part of a public debate about acceptance, inclusion, double standards and equality.
It began when transgender men and women stepped into the spotlight, and some conservatives tried to whip up potty panic, claiming, without a shred of evidence, that allowing transitioning men into the ladies’ room was an invitation to trouble. In the spring, the Department of Labor issued guidelines saying that employers should allow transgender employees to use the restroom of their choosing. But in November, Houston voters rejected an anti-discrimination ordinance that would have protected trans people’s right to make that choice.
Our nation’s toilet moment crested on Saturday at the latest Democratic debate when Hillary Clinton showed up late from a bathroom break. Turns out the ladies’ room was a minute-and-45-second walk from the podium, which leaves very little time to take care of business during a brief commercial break. Thus, for one awkward instance, the woman striving to lead the free world was merely a woman trying to find a free stall.
We have all heard stories of women working production lines not being allowed to leave the floor to answer the call of nature. The ladies’ room is the great equalizer. Needing to use it may be the last bastion of sexist attitudes that we really cannot qualify for leadership positions for anatomical, physical, and dispositional reasons.
Age-old claims that women cannot lead because they “become hormonal” were rampant as recently as our 2008 primary season although I have not heard that one – yet – this cycle. (Pardon the pun.) Never mind that the people who seem to throw the worst, bouncing-off-the-walls, red-faced, screaming tantrums are men. I have been around this type in almost every aspect of my life all my life. From boyfriends, to husbands, to bosses, to colleagues, to employees, to male relatives – they surround us, judge us, make unreasonable demands, and they yell – a lot. Male explosive devices. M-E-Ds. (AKA bullies.) For some women, they actually become deadly. I am not exaggerating, as most women know.
I once held a position that involved several days every four weeks of crazy busy, nonstop, multi-tasking, intense work. There were no breaks in a 14 to 16 hour day. When I needed – badly – to get to the ladies’ room for a quick change with a tampon hidden in the pocket of my black slacks, my boss stopped me. Physically. Grabbed my arm and demanded that I immediately come to his office to meet a visiting dignitary. It had been a long, busy morning, and I knew I could not wait. I said, “I will be there in two minutes.” His face flushed the color of burgundy and he yelled, “NOW!” We were surrounded by my staff and students, maybe about 40 people. I apologized and said I was sorry, and I would be there right away. He bellowed some more, treating me like a naughty child trying to duck out of a responsibility. I turned my back and walked away. I had to. It was going to be a disaster had I not. I could not have sat down on a chair in his office without one of those “worst accidents” happening. I know I am not the only one. I know countless women have had experiences like this. We never talk about it. No one wants to hear it.
The Donald Trumps in this world will tell you that this is exactly the kind of “disgusting” situation women engender. Remember Megyn Kelly? You can’t even talk about it. You can’t explain. If you do, you are proving why women should just shut up and stay home because men do not want to hear about it or deal with it – even if it just means you need two minutes to make a quick change. Silencio. They don’t want to hear. They don’t want to know.
Jennifer Weiner quotes Muriel Ruykeyser:
“What would happen if a woman told the truth about her life?” the poet and activist Muriel Rukeyser once asked. “The world would crack open.”
Maybe we do need to talk about this. Or perhaps it all remains taboo because it just too disgusting.
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