Bathrooms, smashrooms.

Sometimes I use the men's room, at least when they are single user bathrooms. It's my own silent protest against gendering these single user bathrooms. I mean, really, what's the point? Does anyone honestly care if the person who used the bathroom before you was male or female or some variation on the spectrum? My mom wasn't really an activist, but she was a pragmatist. And whenever we would go out somewhere, she'd use whatever room was available, and encourage me to do the same. Even with that upbringing, I still hesitate when I walk up to the men's room door. I have no boi in me, so I feel somehow like I am intruding on someone else's space. Space they aren't using, admittedly, but still, if I have a choice, I feel mildly obligated to use the women's room. I know I don't really belong in the men's room. I doubt anyone notices besides me, but it reminds me of the privileges I have. The rooms I can enter because I was born in the body that fits my identity. The ways in which the world has already shaped itself to my needs. And the ways in which I can work to help reshape this world to fit more people than it does.