I grew up around disability, though I never really noticed it much. You don't, as a kid. You just accept what you see as normal.
My father was disabled. You could tell. He was in a wheelchair - literally the symbol of disability. If he needed to use a disabled toilet there's a picture of him on the door to let you know it's okay [1]. He had hand controls in the car, and a hoist that would put the wheelchair on the roof, so he could drive himself to work, and, provided he had enough space to unload the wheelchair, be independent.
My step-grandfather had both legs amputated (thanks to years of smoking, though he never would admit that). Again, he had the wheelchair, so disabled - check.
My other grandad had a heart condition. He could walk, but would often stop, out of breath, when we were out, and put a little pill under his tongue. He was also deaf in one ear and nearly deaf in the other and had a hearing aid. I never thought of him as disabled. Disabled meant wheelchair. Or a white cane or something. Grandad was just grandad.
When I was about 12 my brother was riding his motorbike and was hit by a car. He somersaulted over it and broke his leg quite badly. They put six bolts in his leg (big metal pins that stuck out, and which he used to hang his coffee cup on) while the bones knitted back together. My father and I went to visit him in hospital while he was recovering. There they sat, both in wheelchairs. Dad turned to my brother and pointed up at me, "Right. Now it's his turn!"
My brother's leg healed, although it's now a bit shorter than the other one. He was only temporarily disabled. Although it could be said that we are all only temporarily abled.
Now I definitely wasn't disabled. I had two arms and two legs, perfect eyesight and hearing. Never so much as broke a bone growing up, despite climbing every tree and building in the neighbourhood.
My disabilities don't show. I don't have a wheelchair, a hearing aid, or a white cane.
So when I use the disabled toilet, I sometimes get funny looks. Did I say funny? I meant angry. Fortunately, being white, male and 6'2" I don't often get directly challenged. Getting between me and a toilet when I need it is not recommended. However, I still see those looks, and I still feel guilty despite myself.
My wife and I were driving in Austria a few years back. I pulled the car into the services and parked as near as I could to the entrance (but not in the disabled - I don't have a blue badge, although I'm told I qualify for one). I leapt out and sprinted into the building. Toilets - straight ahead and downstairs. Great! I ran down the stairs 5 at a time, turned into the corridor and... saw the queue. Lots of folks fumbling with turnstyles. Fuck. For reasons known only to themselves, Austria and Germany seem to have only pay toilets, even at services.
Fortunatley the disabled toilet is right here. Knowing everyone is going to stare at this obviously able-bodied person using the disabled toilet, I grab the handle. Locked! So this isn't a toilet for disabled people - it's literally a disabled toilet. The sign says the key is available from the cashier desk upstairs. Up. Stairs. For a disabled toilet! I assume there was a lift somewhere but I didn't see it.
Bugger that!
I sprint past the queue of people to the turnstyles. People are standing about, trying to pay, but they're broken. I vault over the turnstyle, sprint for the nearest cubicle and bar the door. Made it! Just! I'm sure someone is going to call security on me, but right now I have ... other matters to attend to.
You can't tell by looking at me, unless I lift my shirt to show you the large scar from just above my navel to my pubis where they cut some of my intestines out over 20 years ago, but I have Crohns Disease.
If you've not heard of Crohns, think of it as the de-luxe edition of Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). Everything from the back of your throat to your anus can join in the fun. And how's this for a superpower - bits of your innards that get inflamed can randomly connect to *other* bits of you. I've been in hospital twice because of that. Last time my intestines connected themselves to my bladder. I ate a seasame seed bun. I still can't look at seasame seeds without wincing.
If you see someone use the disabled toilet (or any toilet) just... mind your own business. You don't need to try and measure their disability, or guess their gender.
[1] I don't remember ever seeing him use one. As I recall, he'd just empty his legbag in the carpark.
2024-07-31 (Disability Pride Month)