NO UNISEX PLEASE, WE’RE BRITISH
The fuss about mixed-sex hospital wards has revealed the strength of an ancient taboo. In the permissive West, separating the genders might seem redundant, but at times of vulnerability the very last thing you want is a strange member of the opposite sex about the place.
That’s why progressive offices have such a hard time persuading their employees, however right-on, to share a unisex loo. Even meeting people coming out of their respective convenience is obscurely embarrassing.
Why does it feel OK to be naked with strangers of your own sex in a communal changing room but so very
not OK in the presence of the opposite gender? Perhaps women have more to fear from an alien male, but both sexes seem to share a sense of proprieties and privacy outraged. Pirated footage of Britney Spears mid-coitus feels like less of an intrusion than, say, her caught unawares performing some intensely private female function; and anyone who has seen film of childbirth may understand the taboo which kept this graphic and momentous event within the company of women.
SHE’S GOTTA HAVE IT
In an age of Big Brother, our own sense of modesty and decorum is apparently alive and well.
SHE’S GOTTA HAVE IT
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