Silent Bathrooms Should Be Illegal

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There needs to be a formal investigation into why some public bathrooms are so quiet you can hear your own internal organs.

I’m serious.

This is a public service announcement.

Because I went to a flea market last week, right? Normal day. Walking around, minding my business, looking at things I absolutely don’t need but will think about for the next three business days anyway. And eventually, like any normal human being, I had to pee.

So I find the women’s washroom. It’s upstairs for some reason, which already feels like a choice. Like why am I climbing a flight of stairs to go fight for my life in a bathroom.

I open the door.

And immediately… something feels off.

Too quiet.

Like not “oh this is calm” quiet. I mean the kind of quiet where your brain goes, something’s wrong here.

There are two girls in there, standing at the mirror, touching up their makeup. Fully mid-conversation.

“Is she coming over later?”

“I don’t know, she said maybe—”

Normal conversation. Casual. Chill.

And I’m standing there realizing…

There is no other sound.

None.

No fan. No music. No hand dryer. Not even that distant hum of whatever’s happening outside. The flea market below us? Gone. Silence. It’s like this bathroom exists in a different dimension where sound just doesn’t travel.

And I make the worst decision possible.

I go into a stall.

Now I’m committed.

And I’m sitting there, in complete silence, with two fully aware, fully conscious human beings like three feet away from me, having a conversation about their plans later, and I’m trying to psych myself up to pee like I’m about to perform on stage.

Tell me why my body suddenly forgets how to function.

Like I know how to pee. I do this all the time. I’m actually pretty good at it, if I’m being honest.

But in that moment?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I’m sitting there like, okay, just relax, it’s normal, you’re fine, everyone does this—

And my brain goes, yes, but not like this.

Because it’s too quiet.

There’s no cover. No background noise. No auditory buffer. It’s just me, my thoughts, and the very real possibility that these two girls are about to hear every single thing my body does.

I could hear myself breathing.

Breathing.

That’s how quiet it was.

And at that point, it becomes psychological warfare.

Because now it’s not just about peeing. It’s about the sound of peeing. The timing. The pressure. The risk of it being too loud, too obvious, too… present.

So when it finally happens?

It’s not a normal stream.

It’s a slow, hesitant, deeply uncomfortable little trickle like my body is trying to be polite.

Which somehow makes it worse.

Because now it’s drawn out.

Now it’s not even a quick in-and-out situation. It’s this painfully slow, whisper-level event that feels like it’s lasting a lifetime, and I’m sitting there thinking, they can hear this. They can absolutely hear this.

I am convinced they could feel how uncomfortable I was through the stall door.

Like the energy in that room shifted.

And they just kept talking.

Fully unbothered.

Meanwhile I’m having a full internal crisis over something my body does every single day without issue.

And here’s the thing.

Before anyone jumps in with the very logical, very correct take of “well, everyone pees, it’s not a big deal,” I know.

I know that.

This is not about logic.

This is about vibes.

And the vibe of a completely silent public bathroom is hostile.

It’s unsafe.

It’s psychologically aggressive.

There needs to be some kind of standard.

I’m not asking for a nightclub. I’m not asking for a full playlist and mood lighting.

But give me something.

A fan.

Soft music.

White noise.

Even the faint sound of a radio playing somewhere in the background.

Just enough to remind me I’m not the only audible being in the room.

Because right now, some of these bathrooms are set up like interrogation rooms, and I’m not interested in being perceived on that level while I’m trying to pee.

Businesses, I’m begging you.

This is a small fix.

Low-volume music. That’s it.

You’ll improve lives. You’ll reduce anxiety. You’ll create a safer, more humane bathroom experience for everyone involved.

Because I cannot keep going into situations where I have to mentally prepare myself to do something as basic as pee.

I am not signing up for exposure therapy every time I leave the house.

I just want to exist peacefully, do what I need to do, and leave without questioning my entire nervous system.

Is that too much to ask?

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Anyway.

If you’ve ever been personally victimized by a silent bathroom, I need to know I’m not alone.

Because I refuse to believe I’m the only one who’s sat in a stall like, this is how I go out.

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Some things in life don’t need to be silent. Public bathrooms are one of them.

talk soon, kas

☕️💭