Should you be concerned about your “loo leash”?

I’m certainly reminded by my partners resigned look as I run to the loo “just in case” before we go out, that my own leash is way shorter than I’d like. And being peri-menopausal that “just in case” can cover a lot of bases (you know what I’m talking about ladies).

Having only recently heard the phrase “loo leash”, it made me think. Well, it actually made me think that I haven’t really thought about the unfairness of toilet provision for women. Remember your mum saying “just try” when you complained that you didn’t need to go to the toilet, before heading out the door? She knew something important – that finding a toilet, a decent, safe toilet with toilet paper and room to swing a tampon is bloody difficult (pun intended).

But that warning, delivered from an early age, together with the “shame” and taboo of potentially bleeding through clothing or peeing a little, has resulted in women creating toilet management systems without us even knowing we’re doing it.

We leave early. We map routes around places you know will let you use the bathroom. We say no to plans because we’re not sure what facilities will be available. We carry extra items – pants, water, wipes. We time our day around our bodies. But we never complain because we don’t even think about it. It’s just “our lot”, we “just get on with it”.

Public toilets are often framed as a “nice to have.” But in reality, they quietly decide who gets to participate. Women generally need more time (often 3-4 minutes compared with 30 seconds for men), more space, and more frequent access. We need running water, toilet paper, free period products, and ways to help us manage our bodies. We need recognition that our bodies have needs, that we’re using products that may need different support (e.g. menstrual cups and discs). We need a bloody hook on the door! Ideally two.

Yet design standards in the UK still favour men. Research by Ghent University found that using the same floor plan, men gain 20–30% more capacity through a combination of urinals and cubicles, compared to cubicles alone for women. This creates a 2:1 ratio in favour of men, with women’s cubicles often too small to accommodate children or assist other adults.

Longer queues have become normalised. Next time you go to a concert or a sporting event, have a look at the queues for the food and drink in the breaks. Mostly men. Not because they are somehow hungrier or thirstier – it’s because they don’t have to queue. Our adaptation has become our problem. Studies consistently show women have higher expectations from toilets but seldom are these met.

But what’s striking is how rarely this shows up in conversations about equality, productivity, or urban life. We talk about participation as if it’s purely cultural or motivational. But participation also depends on whether our basic needs are anticipated... or ignored.

The British Toilet Association reports that 40% of public toilets in the UK have closed since 2000 with no sign of improving. And “customer only” signs mean your need for the toilet often involves a coffee and a cupcake, whether you want one or not.

So once again, the risk of women staying at home, adapting their plans, doing additional thinking, increases due to inadequate facilities. The “loo leash” is rearing its ugly head once more.

The demand for better access to away from home toilets can’t be denied. But it raises a quieter question: how else do our toilets need to evolve to reflect the realities of the people using them? What does the future of the toilet look like and how can we access more of them?

I think we need to talk about it.