I write about this topic today as my daughter shared something in the school toilet that I find interesting.
BEHIND A PUBLIC TOILET DOOR: WHEN A CHILD’S SIMPLEST NEED BECOMES COMPLICATED

There is a small but significant milestone in a child’s journey of growing up. Around the age of eight, a child begins to use the toilet by themselves in shopping centres, parks, airports, and other public places. For the child, it should only take a few minutes: “Mum, wait here. I’ll go to the toilet and come back.” It should be a beautiful first step towards independence.

But the more I observe, the more I realise that using a public toilet alone is not as simple as adults think. A child needs not just a toilet but toilet paper, a clean space, enough light, to know which cubicle is free, to know what to do if something unexpected happens, and sometimes a little privacy to adjust clothing or deal with a perfectly normal bodily situation. What should take a few minutes can become a whole chain of small problems a child has to manage alone.

And that made me ask: When we say a child can use a public toilet independently, are we comparing the toilet itself, or are we comparing the entire environment around it?

Because a toilet at home and a public toilet may have the same toilet bowl, but they do not have the same environment. At home, there are parents outside the door. There are spare clothes, towels, water, and someone who can come in immediately when the child calls. In a public place, those things are not like that.

So this article is about shifting the question from “Can a child use this toilet by themselves?” to “Does this environment truly allow a child to use it independently, safely, hygienically, and privately?”

1. When a child really needs to go, it can become a long process

When a child says, “Mum, I really need to go,” the first thing we think of is finding a toilet. But that is only the first step.

Once inside, the child may have to find a clean cubicle: Is there enough toilet paper? Is the toilet clean? Is there anything on the seat? Is the floor wet? Is there soap? Which cubicle is free? What if the first one can’t be used? An adult can usually handle this without thinking. But for an eight-year-old, every small detail becomes a decision. And when a child is desperate to go, those decisions become even harder.

What should be: enter → use → wash hands → leave, can become: search → check → avoid → find paper → wipe → choose another cubicle → wait → deal with the situation → leave. The time and complexity it takes to meet a very basic need is also part of environmental design.

2. We cannot assume all public toilets are the same

A toilet in a shopping centre may be cleaned regularly. But what about a toilet in a park, a playground, a rest stop, or a more isolated place? We cannot assume there will always be enough toilet paper, soap, a clean toilet, a dry floor, good lighting, working equipment, or an adult nearby to help.

An adult may manage, but an eight-year-old may not yet be able to handle all of those small situations calmly. So when we talk about children’s independence, we also need to ask: Is the environment we expect them to use alone truly designed for them?

3. A toilet is not just a place to use the bathroom

For women and growing girls, a toilet is also a place to adjust clothing, fix an outfit, change, fix make-up quickly, deal with unexpected bodily situations, or simply have a few minutes of privacy. These are perfectly normal needs. And because they are normal, privacy should be seen as part of a toilet’s function, not a luxury.

For example, I may enter a women’s toilet just to adjust my dress. If the cubicles are occupied but the area outside is empty, I can still stand at the mirror and adjust it. If another woman walks in, there is nothing unusual about it.

But when a space is designed so that anyone can walk in, something small changes. It’s not that I think the person who just entered will do anything wrong; it’s simply that I no longer know who will walk in next. If I am in the middle of adjusting my dress, I may have to stop, wait, and check who just entered. Something that took seconds can take longer. Privacy is not just about a locked door; it is about being able to carry out normal personal care without constantly calculating whether the environment is still appropriate.

4. We also need to preserve natural layers of protection

A clearly separated space has a feature we often overlook: it creates social visibility. If a stranger appears where their presence is unexpected, people around them may notice. That doesn’t mean the person is dangerous or has done anything wrong, but it creates a signal: “Why is this person here?” Sometimes that small signal is enough for someone to take a second look. It is a kind of invisible gatekeeper in the community.

When a space becomes completely shared, that signal becomes weaker. Anyone can appear in the same area and their presence no longer automatically gives others a reason to ask questions. I don’t think this proves a shared space is inherently unsafe. I just think it’s a question worth asking: When we change the design of a space, do we unintentionally remove a layer of natural observation that once helped adults notice unusual situations?

This is a question of risk management and environmental design, not a judgment about any particular group.

5. A child should not be the one managing risk

An eight-year-old who urgently needs the toilet cannot think like a security professional. They will not walk in and check: Is someone standing there too long? Is someone watching me? Is there an unusual device?

And I don’t want my child to have to do that. My child is just going to the toilet, learning independence. I don’t want to turn an ordinary skill into a test of risk assessment. Adults are the ones who should design and manage the environment.

6. Don’t turn children into detectives

I don’t want to teach my child to be afraid of strangers. I also don’t want my child to inspect every detail like a security officer. I just want to give my child simple rules:

Prioritise a Family / Accessible Toilet whenever possible. That is where a parent can accompany them.

If one is not available and they must use a shared toilet, a parent can go in first, take a quick look, and point to a specific cubicle: “Use this one, sweetheart. Mum is right here.”

And I only want my child to remember one sentence: “If anything makes you feel uncomfortable, call out loudly: Mum! / Dad!”

A child doesn’t need to solve the problem, argue, or become a hero. They just need to know how to call their adult.

7. Independence does not mean handling everything alone

Independence does not mean “You deal with everything yourself.” A child may be able to use the toilet alone while still needing an appropriate environment to do so. They can walk in, close the door, use the toilet, and wash their hands. But that doesn’t mean they should be responsible for a toilet that is too dirty, a lack of paper, poor lighting, unexpected situations, or risks they are not yet able to assess. Independence should be supported by the environment, not created by transferring adult responsibilities onto children.

8. A toilet at home and a public toilet are not different only because of the door

I have a son and a daughter, so I see these ordinary incidents at home. My son may need to go urgently and wet the floor. My daughter may be in such a hurry that her dress touches water on the floor. These things happen, but we have never thought our toilet at home is therefore a perfect environment.

The difference is that it is our home. My children can shout “Mum! Dad!” and we will come. They can change clothes, get a towel, have a shower, and cry a little while Mum and Dad handle it together. The ability to recover from a small incident at home is very different from the ability to recover from it in a public place.

So when someone says a shared public toilet is essentially the same as a shared toilet at home, we need to ask: “Are we comparing only the toilet, while forgetting the entire support system behind the toilet at home?” At home, behind the door there are parents, spare clothes, towels, water, and an adult who can come immediately. A public toilet does not have that system.

That is why the same small incident like a wet dress, a puddle on the floor, no toilet paper, a frightened child can be resolved in minutes at home but becomes a much bigger problem in public. The better question is not “Is this toilet the same as the one at home?” but “Outside this toilet door, does the child have the same support system as at home?” If not, we cannot evaluate the two spaces by looking only at the toilet itself.

9. When an ordinary cry for help becomes information a stranger can hear

My young daughter tells me sweet stories about toilets. Older girls may sit in different cubicles, talking, and when a girl has trouble with her period, she can just call out: “Excuse me, could someone give me a pad?” Another girl will look in her bag and pass one over. It is a very natural form of social support between women and girls.

But what happens to that sense of privacy if the space outside the cubicles is no longer one where girls can assume only women and girls will be? Today many girls as young as eight or nine may already start menstruating, and they need a safe space to preserve their dignity.

In a separated space, calling “Excuse me, I need a pad!” is simply a request for help between people of the same sex. But in a completely shared space, a man or a male student may also hear that cry very clearly. That means information about a child’s very private and vulnerable bodily situation may be exposed beyond those she expected to hear it.

Privacy is not just a closed door. It is also the ability to control who has access to private information about your body. If a child cannot call out for help because she worries about who may hear her, then a very natural form of social support has unintentionally been weakened.

Conclusion

I don’t want my children to live in a world without risk, because I know such a world doesn’t exist. I also don’t want every public space to be designed around fear. But I think we can do better in recognising children’s very ordinary needs.

An eight-year-old needs to use the toilet. They need a clean place, toilet paper, enough light, privacy, to know their parents are nearby, and an environment where they don’t have to spend much longer dealing with problems that adults could have solved through design and operation.

If we want to keep toilets gender-neutral, that is fine, but please do not design them lazily. Do not assume a public environment is the same as a home, because behind the toilet door at home there is an entire support system, while outside a public toilet, there is not.

Let going to the toilet be what it should be again: a natural and simple human need, where a parent’s heart does not have to start pounding the moment their child disappears behind any public toilet door.

And if one day my child says, “Mum, I need to go to the toilet,” I only want my answer to be as gentle as that very ordinary need:
“Okay, sweetheart. Let’s go. Mum is right here.”

In conclusion, my point is that cautious behaviour has been taught and trained into me for more than half of my life as a survival and safety skill. Having that deeply ingrained instinct suddenly stripped away and replaced by something contemporary is not something I can simply swallow in a few months, or even a few years. I need time to disarm myself.

Also, when I look at the philosophy behind the new toilets and then look at the design itself, I can’t help but wonder if it is still the same toilet my grandma used… just with a new label:
ALL GENDER – INCLUSIVE – MODERN – 2026