Principle of Least Astonishment

“The bathroom question,” is a well-known fixture of transgender issues. Transpeople want to be able to use public restrooms in peace and with safety, but transphobia fuels cisgender people’s fears about what might happen (read: what transpeople will do to cisgender people).

Where all these fears around bathrooms come from, I’m not sure. I know of some fears around men in women’s restrooms based in sexual assault attempts, and fear of such assaults. But, the issue seems to go back much further. Or, perhaps what goes back further is the entitlement and privilege of some being asserted over others in material ways through bathroom spaces (e.g., during the U.S.’s Jim Crow era where there were three bathrooms—white men, white men, and “colored”). (There must be some geography/cultural landscape scholarship on this...)

In any case, I had long ago internalized this fear, even before I started identifying as trans. My gender presentation has never really conformed to “woman,” and I learned early on that I could startle women in restrooms. I also learned early on how to compensate/cope—to use the restrooms on campus during class when traffic was minimal, to use out of the way restrooms, to limit my liquid intake and wait until I got to a “safe” bathroom, etc. I also try to follow the principle of least astonishment, and use whichever restroom I think others expect me to use—that is, that will not be a cause for surprise.

The other day, I was at a coffee house in DC and had to use the bathroom. As usual, I waited until there seemed to be a lull in the restroom traffic before I made my approach. The coffee house had two bathrooms, both single-use, and a key was needed to enter. (Why places insist on labeling one bathroom “men” and one “women” when they are single-use, I’ll never understand. True, some can be equipped slightly differently, as in the case when there are urinals in one but not the other, but otherwise they can still be used by either.) The keys were in plain sight by the register, and for the most part, employees pointed the keys out to customers who asked or looked like there were searching, but otherwise, didn’t seem overly concerned with strictly and closely monitoring them. I packed up, quickly walked to the register, and grabbed the key to the women’s room.

Now, I always feel conflicted about which bathroom I use, and I’d prefer to use the one that says “bathroom,” but if they are sex-segregated spaces and other people are around, I usually default to “women” because I don’t think I pass all that well, all my documentation still says “female,” and in my experience they are often a little cleaner.

Imagine my surprise when the employee at the register saw me and said, “not that one,” indicating I had taken the wrong key. He seemed to think I took the women’s key by mistake, and I was really glad that he thought so. A small victory, but I’ll take what I can get.