In the 1950s the Ladies’ Room was a place of refuge, a wall-papered lounge with a couch, polished mirrors, fresh flowers, and often an attendant armed with fresh towels, perfume, and mints. As men have always suspected, we didn’t go there just to use the facilities; the Ladies’ Room was a safe gathering place.
We went there to talk, to primp, to smoke, to cry, to adjust a poor wardrobe choice, to sneak away from a bad dinner date, or just to sneak away. The Ladies’ Room was a place where women could be women–a place with no men watching, commenting, judging.
The Politicization of Bathrooms
In the early 1970s, at the height of the feminist era, “Ladies” Rooms came under fire. We feminists were not “ladies” who needed fainting couches in restrooms because we didn’t have the fortitude to work an 8-hour day without a nap or a good cry. “Ladies” were well-behaved women; we early feminists were anything but ladylike. As a result, “Ladies” Rooms became the Women’s Rooms– or Womyn’s Rooms– and the couches all but disappeared.
Further politicization of public bathrooms came later in the 1970s. I remember my first trip to a gay bar with a couple of gay guy friends, George and Henry. As professional photographers, the three of us worked together and played together. The Kismet, a legendary downtown Columbus gay bar, was hopping the night we were there– loud disco music, flashing lights, dancing, plenty of booze, and other adult entertainment and harder drugs, if you knew who to ask.
