Over Easter weekend I'm sure many college students went out of town with family, caught up on ridiculous amounts of papers and procrastinated homework, but I had a small project in mind. I went with my family to Charlotte, North Carolina to visit my grandmother. We got there late Friday night, and after I had an eight hour shift at work and a three hour drive to her apartment, we were beat. We greeted my grandmother, briefly conversed about life, jobs, new TV shows, etc. and then it was off to bed. I was so tired that a couple of minutes after my head hit the pillow, I was out. I awoke at about 9:30 a.m. the next morning with a nagging feeling. I was going to have to be inside of a church in about an hour and a half that had previously spoken against homosexuality, feminism and the transgender communities, which I had chalked up to how some people were.

I had always been unsettled about the fact that some people that I knew back home could travel to a state just a couple hours away and not be able to use the bathroom that matched the gender that they identified as. I wasn't, however, moved enough to take any form of action except to sympathize and move on. We got dressed into our fancy church clothes and off we went. I sat down in a pew in which my mother took a picture of me in a dress, which is admittedly a rare occasion. A thought popped into my brain in that moment. If I were dressed like a traditional male, would I be forced to use the ladies room? Or vice versa? I shuttered to myself as I imagined how horrifying that must be.

I told my mother that I had to go to the bathroom and off I trotted into the hallway of the church. I was very nervous at first and checked the hallway for people who might be on to my impending plan. I ran to to the men's bathroom door to take a quick selfie as evidence that I actually did the thing. At this point, I felt like a double agent in a bad spy movie. I clutched my phone to my chest and opened the door. From what I could see, there were about three guys in front of a long mirror checking their suit for stains from that morning's breakfast. I took a deep breath and in I ran. I walked in with my head down and with no irony, prayed that they didn't see me. My heart thumped inside of my chest so hard that I felt dizzy. I darted for the nearest stall. Once inside, I found it a little hard to, you know, go. I tried to make myself think liquid-thoughts. Waterfalls, a running faucet, drinking water. When that didn't work, I finally took a deep breath in and told myself it was nerves and relaxed. At last, success. I heard someone from outside of the stall mutter something like "Dude, did you see a girl run in here?" I then realized that the experiment was not yet over, I still had to make it out of the bathroom...alive.

I quickly pulled up my pantyhose and unlocked the stall door. I saw two guys leaning up against the far wall looking at their phones. I decided that while they were distracted, I would make a final ninja exit. I flung the door outward and froze. I looked at the men, with their mouths hanging open. Suddenly, I realized that I shouldn't be afraid, I mean I was doing something to not only make me brave, but also to give some of that courage back to the communities that were be discriminated against by this law. So, I mustered up a sideways grin, feeling goofy and a little lightheaded, managed to choke out "HB-2" and proceeded to dart out of the bathroom and didn't stop running until I got back to my seat. Throughout the service, I held inside my head and heart the knowledge that even though it was a relatively small gesture, I was doing a good thing.

For those of you who don't know, HB-2 is the name of the law that North Carolina has recently passed that forces transgender men and women to use the restroom that matches their gender from birth.