by Maria Bratikova

(Editor’s note: The following editorial was prompted by a recent incident at a mall in Quezon City, Philippines, where a transgender woman was refused the use of a female restroom.)

I grew up in a barrio.

Our house was a kubo. The outhouse was a mile away for obvious reasons. It was just called “Casillas.” It had no sex, no gender, no civil status. Understand this: my dad is a male, bro a male, me and my mum females. When it came to having your business done, the toilet was either occupied or not! Open, you do business. Closed, somebody’s already doing business. Either you waited for your turn and hold your chop or find a big tree in the next village. Or just turn blue in the face. The choice was yours as the business person.

Fast forward to the present century.

Our house grew – we now have two toilets – thanks to modern foggaras that moved inhouse and are called outhouse no more) plus a porta potty (in the Bunker!). Still no gender assigned to any of them doors. Just: a roadmap to a place called WC- water closet (why that is another story). You can be a male, female, pajero, harmaphrodite . . . rule is outstanding: open-business; closed-take a holiday or do a marathon.

Still in the present century.

We are inundated with regulations that are meaningless and tend to circumvent the laws of nature! Nature is no respecter of human laws. You got penis? Male. You got vagina? Female. Admittedly, there are some caught in-between. Can’t help it. . . it happens! Is it a problem? Not. But we make it a problem. Are we so bored? Looks like it. The factory of the devil is the empty cranium (hello, hontiveros!).

We thought we have scrapped apartheid? We have brought it back with our übersensibilities and übersensitivities. If a vagina can hit a target pissing on male urinals, standing – why not? If a penis wants to be seated down like a queen on her throne (yes, like you she pisses urine and shit shits -did you think she downloads roses and orchids or whisky when she visits the outhouse? Because she does visit the place, believe you me. Don’t be naive!), that can be done in any toilet. Any toilet. Just take note of the open/close significance.

So now, we have a problem. LGBT. . . if each of these letters would want a separate cubicle. . . whooaaah! Bring your own anerola (shitpan) like you grow roots on your cellphones and iPads.

Personally, i don’t bloody care where one does his toilet business. He can wank himself, pee, shit, sleep, sing. But close the door. The plumbing system is not going to qualify your product!

That’s why doors were invented!