Star ratings for public toilets: A bold step toward dignity, trust, and urban accountability

In an age governed by stars—restaurant reviews, hotel ratings, ride-share ratings—we have become fluent in the shorthand of trust. A five-star badge speaks not just of service but of assurance, of the small certainties that make us feel safe, seen, and satisfied. But in the orchestration of daily urban life, there remains a blind spot—a place where no rating, no review, and no prior knowledge could shield us from disappointment or discomfort. That place is the public toilet.

It is an irony of modern urban life that while we consult digital reviews for a cup of coffee or a weekend stay, we are left utterly unguided when seeking something far more fundamental: a clean, safe, accessible toilet in the city. In Bangladesh's urban centres—where people move with urgency and spaces collapse into each other—the public toilet has long existed on the periphery, both physically and in policy. No map leads us there. No metric assures us of its usability, until now.

In a quiet yet decisive move, WaterAid Bangladesh has introduced a star rating system for public toilets under its Pother Dabi (Demand of the Streets) campaign — an initiative that might well be described as revolutionary for its simplicity, elegance, and foresight.

Nineteen modern public toilets across Dhaka North and South City Corporations, operated in partnership with local organisations DSK and Voomij, have been assessed and assigned star ratings ranging from three to five. This isn't symbolic or cosmetic. These stars are earned, not given—anchored in a rigorous, index-based evaluation system adapted from the Toilet Board Coalition's international framework and contextualised for Bangladesh's urban realities.

At the heart of this initiative lies a deeply human aspiration: to make public sanitation not just available, but dignified. Each facility is assessed on key indicators—cleanliness, availability of hygiene materials, gender and disability responsiveness, privacy, ventilation, lighting, safety, and overall management. The inspection teams, professionally trained, evaluate the smallest details: Are the door locks functional? Is there soap and running water? Is a female caretaker present? Are sanitary napkin disposal bins available and clean? Can a disabled user access the space without fear or difficulty?

These are not minor details. They are the difference between inclusion and exclusion, between shame and comfort. A five-star rating, in this context, is not a status symbol — it is a promise.

But this promise extends beyond the user. It is also a mirror held up to the provider. For those who manage and maintain these facilities, the star rating is a tool of self-reflection and accountability. It creates a gentle but firm pressure to perform, to improve, and to sustain quality. For in the era of viral reviews and informed choices, a low rating is no longer just a score — it's a risk.

The impact of this system, however, is not only operational. It is symbolic. For decades, the public toilet has been treated as something that should exist—but just barely. An unspoken compromise between what is needed and what can be tolerated. This initiative begins to undo that compromise. It dares to imagine that public sanitation can meet the same standards of quality, pride, and transparency that we demand from private services.

It also dares to centre women in that imagination. Too often, discussions on public toilets overlook how profoundly women's lives are shaped by the absence of safe, accessible sanitation. Without these facilities, many urban women ration their water intake, suppress bodily needs, and avoid long commutes or public outings. The consequences are not merely inconvenient—they are medical, psychological, and social. The rating system explicitly accounts for these realities: each facility is assessed for the presence of a women's chamber, menstrual hygiene support, secure locks, and privacy. In doing so, it reclaims public sanitation as a space of gender justice.

And yet, the foresight of this model lies not only in equity but also in economics. Public toilets, when well-maintained and widely used, are not just a civic service. They are viable business models. High ratings attract more users. More users mean more revenue. And more revenue enables better maintenance—creating a cycle of sustainability that invites both public and private investment. In a city bursting at its seams, such models are not idealistic—they are necessary.

Looking ahead, the initiative plans to integrate digital tools — mobile applications where users can locate the nearest rated toilet, leave feedback, and access real-time hygiene scores. This technological layer will make sanitation services more visible, data-driven, and responsive. It will also bring the citizen further into the fold — not just as a recipient but as a co-owner of urban accountability.

What's radical here is not just the idea of rating toilets. It is the idea of treating sanitation with the seriousness it deserves. Of saying, without apology, that a city cannot be smart if it is not hygienic. That dignity is not measured by how high we build but by how low we're willing to look — at the ground, at the ignored, and at the essential.
A star rating on a public toilet door may seem modest. But it marks the beginning of something profound: a shift in how we understand public services, how we demand quality, and how we restore trust in the everyday infrastructure of life.

In the end, this is not a story about toilets. It's a story about visibility, accountability, and possibility. About how the language of stars—long reserved for luxury—can finally speak to something that touches us all.

From left Samia Anwar Rafa, Plaban Gongopaddhay and Amina Rahman Raisa. Photo: Courtesy

The writers are development professionals working at WaterAid Bangladesh. To reach out to the writers, please write to plabangongopaddhay@wateraid.org