The girl’s bathroom is a special and sacred place for 90s Alt femmes.

Lipstick and mascara happen there.
First Kisses.
Crying and comforting.
Secret smoking.

Enemies become friends following the shared humiliation of a surprise blood stain and the charity of a tampon.

There are sticky zippers, broken bra straps, empowering words from a stranger who also missed that tricky spot where calf turns to knee

Love.
Forbidden handholding.
Secrets passed through psychic eye contact

Motherhood, childhood, brotherhood, and sisterhood between friends.
There is Throwing up.
Hair holding.
Breastfeeding.
Helping.
Empathy.

It is a place where we are human.
An inclusive space.

One for coexistence
Unofficially.
One for queer people.
For sick people.
For Best Friends.

So, anyway,
STFU, J.K. Rowling