Bathrooms are Ableist

I drafted this blog in Microsoft Word and the little red squiggle notified me that ableist isn’t a word. Funny. Yet all other discriminatory words are considered real words, according to Word. Another example of how disabled people don’t matter. Just one other thing to add to the never-ending list.

Lately, I’ve been reading fictional books featuring disabled characters; written by disabled authors of course. It has been the most liberating, empowering, and radical experience. I never realized how it feels to be represented in any form of media. Finally, there are some (very, very few I might add) stories about disabled characters. Let alone, the main character is disabled and also desired and deemed as attractive. I never realized how my self-worth was affected until I started reading these books. I’m slowly starting to realize I am worthy of love. It’s crazy what an ableist society does to you. You actually start to believe the lies and stories society tells you.

In reading these books, I also picked up Alice Wong’s “Year of the Tiger.” She is a disabled Asian American that has Muscular Dystrophy, same as me. She also used to wear a non-invasive ventilator and went through a lot of the same challenges I did.

It’s so refreshing to read something and be like, “Wow! I thought I was the only one who thought like this.” Or “OMG! There is someone that has the same experiences as me!” It’s quite transformative. Being disabled makes you feel very alone at times. In a society where you’re a minority, it can be grueling to even go to the grocery store, park, or gas station and not see anyone that looks like you. Where are all the young, attractive, successful, physically disabled young adults out there?! I know we exist! But, society has made us recluses. We stay in our homes because the world was not built for us.

After reading “Year of the Tiger”, I realized so many of my everyday thoughts are ableist. I had no idea. Basic, basic things. Like apologizing for taking up space. Needing accommodations. Not being as what is deemed “productive” by American capitalistic society. My mind was blown. Here I was, thinking I was a perfect disabled person advocating for the rights of others, when even I am ableist. Crazy.

Today, I was reminded of an ableist experience I have frequently. But after reading the novels, I realized my thought error. First off, bathrooms are rarely, rarely ever accessible. I cannot emphasize this enough. I can count on one hand the number of bathrooms I’ve been in that are actually accessible for me. So already, we’re shut out of society. A basic human right of pissing whenever and wherever we want has been taken from us.

Sheesh. As if enough wasn’t taken from us. Anyways, one issue of peeing independently is also non-disabled people using the accessible stall. I cannot, once again, emphasize what a giant pet peeve this is of mine. All the stalls will be available, like maybe five or so, and one person is in the accessible stall because they like the “bigger” space. Bitch, I actually need that space. It’s not a luxury for me. So, I’m stuck waiting on them to finish their business and hold in my bladder and dignity. Sometimes people apologize and look at me, others completely ignore me. I usually just give them a death glare and leave it at that.

Now back to the story. I was at a plant store where there was a book club meeting. The store also sold drinks. It was in the morning so it was a bit chilly outside and I decided to purchase a delicious cup of cherry blossom green tea with an absurd amount of honey. As I read my book and sipped my tea, I was in a faraway land full of bliss and fiction.

I noticed it was getting time for the book club to be over soon and I realized my bladder was about to explode. I went over to the bathroom and waited on the woman to exit. I asked her to hold the door open for me (doors are my natural nemesis. And chairs.) and she said sure and asked if I was good to be alone. Of course I was and I did my best not to roll my eyes. I would ask a stranger to open a door, not help me pee. My goodness. I’m a grown adult thank you very much.

Anyways, as disabled people know, things take longer for us. It’s just a fact of life. Simple tasks like putting on clothes, going somewhere, or eating simply takes longer. It’s why I always feel like I need to rush. I feel like I’m already losing precious time due to my disability. Time is a construct and impossible to lose, so I’m working on changing that mindset.

Back to the story. My bathroom routine takes about 10 minutes on my own. It used to be 30 before I had surgery, and now it is 10. I prayed to God the bathroom would be accessible, and low and behold, it was! I set up my supplies and got to doing my business. As I was getting prepared, multiple people banged on the door.

“Occupied,” I said. I heard a crowd forming and the book club officially ending. More bangs. The door handle jiggled.

“Occupied,” I said again a little bit louder.

“I don’t think someone’s in there,” someone said.

“Are you all waiting on the bathroom?” someone else asked.

“Yeah, it’s so loud so I can’t hear if anyone is in there.” More banging and handle moving. I finally took a deep breath and mustered all the energy I had and shouted, “SOMEONE’S IN HERE!” My rage had peaked.

I was all flustered and aggravated because I just wanted to pee in peace. As I was continuing my process, there were more bangs and wiggles of the door handle.

My thoughts drifted to, “Oh no, they’re all waiting on the bathroom! I have to hurry. Maybe I should just wait until I am home to go. This takes so long! All those people need to use the restroom. There’s a huge line out there all waiting on me.” My thoughts frantically said to my brain.

I took a deep breath and thought, you know what, no! No. I will not rush, I will not hurry along. I will take my goddamn time to use the bathroom because it is a human right. And get this, I was thinking of actually apologizing to the crowd once I emerged from the door. Apologize!! For TAKING TIME TO PEE.

I realized how ableist bathrooms are. How I have the need to constantly apologize for taking time and space. Not anymore. Those are ableist views and thoughts on how able-bodied people think everything should be. And I don’t fit their mold or fit their perfect box of time and space.

They can wait on me. Hell, I’ve had to wait plenty of times on other people using the accessible stall for whatever reason. Surely they can wait a few more minutes for me. And if not, that’s their problem.