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Unisex changing rooms are depriving me of getting naked with my fellow women Unisex changing rooms are depriving me of getting naked with my fellow women
(4 months later)
My My local swimming pool has been undergoing refurbishment for many months, during which period the men and women were forced into temporary, unisex changing rooms. It was all a bit uncomfortable, and awkward, but there was a certain blitz spirit about, and we smiled grimly at each other as we waited for the next available shower stall, and carefully choreographed our eye movements to avoid any appearance of staring.
local swimming pool has been undergoing refurbishment for many months, Last week, I visited the refurbished pool for the first time. The new changing facilities were roomier, brighter, even, for now at least, a tad cleaner. Unfortunately they were also still unisex. This appears to be a new policy on the part of municipal leisure facilities – the Aquatic Centre in the Olympic Park operates a similar system – and I now feel as if all that time, I was taking exercise under false pretences.
during which period the men and women were forced into temporary, unisex You can argue that feminists should have no issue with unisex changing rooms. We should be reveling in the liberté and egalité that has broken down the barriers of plasterboard and hospital tiles, and allowed us to stand locker-to-locker with our fellow man. We should rejoice that we are free to embrace our mutual humanity, and share our shampoo.
changing rooms. It was all a bit uncomfortable, and awkward, but there After all, it’s not like we’re expected to get naked in front of anyone: the etiquette of these new, communal changing areas are strictly and repeatedly stated. Appropriate clothing must be worn in public, and all actual changing activity is confined to individual cubicles. So what’s the harm?
was a certain blitz spirit about, and we smiled grimly at each other as After I’d got over the shock of queuing behind a young Harry Styles-a-like for the hairdryer, I realised that my objection was not prudishness, but rather the opposite. I’m no exhibitionist – although I don’t expect you to believe me after this argument – but perhaps for that very reason, I have always appreciated the one small part of public life where women’s bodies are allowed to be on display to each other, with no stigma, judgment or agenda. Where else do women feel safe enough to just let it all hang out?
we waited for the next available shower stall, and carefully I fully appreciate that many women don’t feel comfortable stripping off in front of strangers – that’s why those small cubicles, with their damp benches and their poorly positioned hooks, exist. But it seems good, to me, that one convention remained in which it isn’t considered perverse, or embarrassing, to be naked among my fellow women. To be invisibly nude, and to know that that is still OK.
choreographed our eye movements to avoid any appearance of staring.
Last
week, I visited the refurbished pool for the first time. The new
changing facilities were roomier, brighter, even, for now at least, a
tad cleaner. Unfortunately they were also still unisex. This appears to
be a new policy on the part of municipal leisure facilities – the
Aquatic Centre in the Olympic Park operates a similar system – and I now
feel as if all that time, I was taking exercise under false pretences.
You
can argue that feminists should have no issue with unisex changing
rooms. We should be reveling in the liberté and egalité that has broken
down the barriers of plasterboard and hospital tiles,
and allowed us to stand locker-to-locker with our fellow man. We should
rejoice that we are free to embrace our mutual humanity, and share our
shampoo.
After
all, it’s not like we’re expected to get naked in front of anyone: the
etiquette of these new, communal changing areas are strictly and
repeatedly stated. Appropriate clothing must be worn in public, and all actual changing activity is confined to individual cubicles. So what’s the harm?
After
I’d got over the shock of queuing behind a young Harry Styles-a-like
for the hairdryer, I realised that my objection was not prudishness, but
rather the opposite. I’m no exhibitionist – although I don’t expect you
to believe me after this argument – but perhaps for that very reason, I
have always appreciated the one small part of public life where women’s
bodies are allowed to be on display to each other, with no stigma,
judgment or agenda. Where else do women feel safe enough to just let it
all hang out?
I fully appreciate that many women don’t
feel comfortable stripping off in front of strangers – that’s why those
small cubicles, with their damp benches and their poorly positioned
hooks, exist. But it seems good, to me, that one convention remained in
which it isn’t considered perverse, or embarrassing, to be naked among
my fellow women. To be invisibly nude, and to know that that is still
OK.
@em_john@em_john