CREATIVE DIRECTION + PRODUCTION + WORDS + interview BY ANDYOMO
PHOTOS + ART DIRECTION BY PRIVILEGE CLAVEL × FEATURING LUNA LA SIRENA, YOOJIN PARK, ANDYOMO, X HERNANDEZ, + OLIVER BARILE × BEAUTY LEAD STERLING TULL × BEAUTY ASSIST VEE SADIKU × LOCATION 3 DOLLAR BILL
SPECIAL THANKS TO OUR VENUE PARTNER BRENDA BREATHNACH
Hesitation— two options.
The signs on the doors, the weight of new laws. I glance out of my peripheral before taking a deep breath, steadying my hiccuping heart. I got this. One step after the other, I push open the door to the women’s restroom, moving with purpose to an empty stall. As I shut the door and sit, I exhale, releasing the last bit of air I hadn’t realized I was still holding in. If only all this could be as simple as the basic human function it was meant to be; as it is for most. Instead, every step is a calculation, every choice a compromise, forever focused on making others comfortable in hopes of finding comfort for myself.
This is what it feels like to exist as a transgender non-binary person right here, right now in the U.S. I will not speak for the experiences of anyone or anywhere else; my experiences are rooted here and are personal to me. I have stood at urinals, lifting my skirt to go, while being verbally harassed over my acrylic square tips and six-inch stilettos. I’ve sat in stalls, legs tight together, trying to make myself smaller in a space that made me feel so alien. More often than not, if possible, I retreat to the family or handicap bathroom—a place where I can breathe with no limitations, where I don’t have to wonder who is watching, and who is judging. I keep myself composed, always aware, just trying to exist.
 
This moment doesn’t end when I leave the stall. It follows me to the sink, where I keep my movements small and deliberate, avoiding eye contact in the mirror as I reapply my lip gloss, desperate for a moment of normalcy, of validation. The eye contact lingers as I step out the door, hyper-aware of my posture, my stride. Too fast, I might draw further attention; too slow, and I'm left feeling exposed. Even after I’m gone, I carry it with me; the unease settles deep within myself like secondhand smoke sinking into the leather of my Balenciaga handbag.
This isn’t about the bathroom. It’s about existing in a world where the simplest acts - needing to use the bathroom, getting dressed, walking down the street—are all loaded with unspoken rules, risks, and negotiations; where dignity feels conditional, and safety is never a guarantee.
As photographer and creative, Oliver Barile says when sharing with me about his own experiences in gendered bathrooms early on in his transition, "I would usually use the women's [restroom] for a long time. When I finally started using the men's, it was a little bit daunting. I had weird stares, I was quite scared." The fear and uncertainty that Oliver expresses are not unique—this is the reality for many, as we navigate the discomfort of existing in spaces that don’t always accept us.
This heightened policing of expression and autonomy is not only affecting trans people—it affects every single one of us. The conversations surrounding bathroom access have seeped into every part of society, dividing not only the trans community but also cisgender individuals. Cisgender men and women are increasingly persecuted for not appearing, sounding, or acting ‘cis enough.’ Cis women who don’t follow every beauty trend or cis men who don’t fully meet the 'masculine ideal’ face judgment, scrutiny, and sometimes even assumptions that they are trans. But this isn’t a trans issue - it’s a problem for anyone who doesn’t fit neatly into society’s rigid and ever-so-constricting views on gender.
In the LGBTQ+ community, individuals already facing discrimination based on sexual orientation or non-conformity now also face persecution due to their own expressions of personal identities. What many fail to realize is that this climate of fear and surveillance of autonomy harms everyone, creating suspicion, division, and the policing of gender norms. This is felt everywhere, from workplaces to social circles to online spaces, failing to bridge generational gaps while fueling ongoing culture wars. Instead of recognizing the shared experiences of marginalization, cis and trans people are now caught in a useless cycle of targeting one another, driven by fear, misinformation, and an irrational need to constantly tweet how we feel every two seconds without thinking about what real repercussions there might be.