At 42, Meghna Sahoo, a transgender woman from Odisha, has lived a life of resilience in the face of layers of systemic exclusion and humiliation. Her story shows how something as basic as using a toilet becomes a battleground for dignity when public spaces aren’t designed for everyone.

Meghna was born into a working-class family in a small village. Her father was a truck driver, the family’s only earner. Money was scarce, but what made her childhood even harder was the gap between the gender assigned to her at birth and the girl she knew herself to be.

She gravitated toward female friends, but even as a young child, people mocked her for her voice, clothes, and mannerisms.

At home, there was only one toilet—reserved strictly for women to prevent the septic tank from filling up too quickly. Meghna, still viewed as ‘male’, was barred from using it. She had no choice but to defecate in the open. She would often face ridicule from neighbours for her appearance and mannerisms. “They would call me names and laugh at me. I felt like an outcast,” she recalls.

These early experiences shaped her relationship with her own body and with public space. The lack of safe sanitation was more than an inconvenience— it was a site of violence.

For Meghna, school became another space of danger. She was expected to use the boys’ toilet, despite feeling unsafe there. Male classmates sexually harassed her, and teachers dismissed her complaints, turning the blame on her. Instead of protection, she heard: “Why are you behaving like a girl?”

The lack of safe, private, gender-affirming toilets turned everyday school into emotional turmoil. These experiences deepened her fear and shame, forcing her to hide her identity until her mid-20s. When she finally began transitioning, her family rejected her completely. She left home and had to start life over, alone.

Meghna worked several informal jobs before becoming a driver for Ola (ridesharing company) in Bhubaneswar. As a driver, she spent long hours on the road, and there were no unisex or inclusive toilets in public spaces. The public washrooms that did exist were unsafe or unavailable. To avoid having to use these facilities, sometimes she would skip drinking water and eating for an entire day, until it eventually caused kidney stones.

One incident at a movie theatre became a turning point. She walked into the women’s washroom during the interval. While she was on the phone, women panicked after hearing her voice and accused her of being a man. Security guards interrogated her. “As a trans woman, it felt terrible to be treated this way,” she says. The humiliation was public, crude, and unforgettable.

In 2018, Meghna turned her personal struggle into public activism. With support from the Centre for Advocacy and Research (CFAR), she launched an online campaign demanding safe, inclusive sanitation for transgender persons.

When COVID-19 hit, the transgender community suffered a severe loss of livelihood. Meghna formed a self-help group (SHG) to support survivors and worked closely with the Bhubaneswar Municipal Corporation (BMC) and the Water Corporation of Odisha (WATCO).

Her SHG eventually secured a contract to manage Bhubaneswar’s Faecal Sludge Treatment Plant (FSTP)—a historic achievement. It provided steady income, dignity, and visibility for transgender workers in the sanitation chain.

Her advocacy bore fruit when the Odisha government mandated the creation of inclusive toilets in urban areas. But the pace of rollout remains slow. “It’s been over a year since the announcement, and we’re still waiting,” she says.

For many people, using a toilet is a routine task. For transgender persons, it can be a source of harassment, a site of violence, a trigger for humiliation, and a genuine health risk.

Inclusive sanitation, for transgender people, is not just about infrastructure. It is about identity, safety, health, freedom of movement, and fundamental human dignity.

Today, Meghna has built a network of mutual support, skill development, and empowerment for transgender persons through her self-help group. For many, she has become a lifeline, someone who understands them and offers hope and healing. 

Her life is a powerful testimony to how something as fundamental as a public toilet can become a site of exclusion, but also a site from which to demand recognition, rights, and respect without fear or shame. “We need inclusive toilets not just as a basic amenity, but as a fundamental human right,” Meghna asserts. Meghna’s story is proof that change begins not in policy documents, but in the courage of individuals who refuse to be silent.

—Seema Jain, Programme Manager, CREA