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We need to fix that. Accessibility needs to become a way of seeing the world, not a concession or two to meet a legal standard.

Accessibility starts with empathy, with putting ourselves in the position of anyone, in any circumstances, who might want to use a public facility. How does a sight-impaired person find this washroom from the bus station? Are there ways to minimize the loudness of the hand dryers in that washroom, to make it easier for some people with autism? What barriers does this washroom pose for people who need a caregiver or attendant? Will that scented soap set off someone’s allergy?

The Ottawa study also found issues with things such as signage, opening hours and baby-changing tables.

My son is used to going to the washroom by himself; he’s been in day care since he was one year old. But unfamiliar public washrooms are a source of stress. The loud, unpredictable automatic flushes terrified him when he was a toddler; he still puts his hands over his ears. Very often, the sinks are too high for him and the possibility that he’ll make a mistake with an unfamiliar tap and scald himself makes him nervous. The soap and paper towel dispensers can be confusing to operate. Don’t even get me started on automatic hand dryers. If he encounters a mess, he just doesn’t use the washroom at all.

So even though he’s old enough to go in by himself, life is much easier if he has a parent with him when he’s in a strange place. And when it’s a big, busy public washroom in a mall, train station or airport, I’m not keen on being separated from him. But he acquired a strong sense, around age 4, that boys are not allowed to go into the girls’ washroom, and vice versa. If I insist on taking him in with me, or accompanying him into the men’s, he gets very embarrassed, and might refuse to go.