Circumcision. For many years I couldn’t say that word. If someone nearby said “cir… cumstance” my heart would leap into my throat, just hearing the first few letters of that word, and my fight or flight reactions would kick in a big way. Circumcision has had a profoundly devastating effect on my life, very much I would think like being repeatedly raped by your parents throughout your childhood would have.

Why raped? Well, circumcision is a sexual assault of unparalleled proportions, I think only castration could compare.

Why repeatedly? Well, every time I looked at my penis I was reminded of the assault, it had been marked in my flesh so I could never forget.

Why parents? Well, they are supposed to protect you from harm as a child. When these people actively cause you harm it is the greatest betrayal.

I am, so far as I know, the first South African foreskin restorer (by non-surgical means anyway) and the only South African to have completed a foreskin restoration. I could write a book on my journey from intactness through 27 years of feeling like half a man, less than a whole person, damaged goods, and wondering how great it must feel to have a whole body (something I thought I could never know), through restoration and back to intactness. Restoration to me was as much about restoring my mind as it was about restoring my body. It was also great to feel that I was showing a huge “middle finger” to my parents and the whole medical fraternity who thought that was they had done to me was permanent and out of my control.

I was born in Cape Town on the mid-sixties. I don’t know when I was butchered, but I’ve tried to find out. This way I would know how long I was a complete human being before my joy for life was brutally cut short. Unfortunately my birth records have been destroyed, and I have never been able to talk to my mother about it.

When I was 5, I had a friend come and sleep over for the first time. After we had bathed together and we were getting into our pajamas in my room he asked me if I knew why we didn’t look the same. I really hadn’t noticed or thought about it up till that point. I said I didn’t know. He told me that when I was a baby the doctor had cut off part of my penis. I didn’t believe him, I told him that wasn’t true and that I had been born the way I was. He insisted that I was wrong. I ran to my mother and asked her. She confirmed that “a little piece of skin had been cut off”. I was shattered. I can remember all of this like it was yesterday—that feeling of dismay and disbelief. From that moment on there were two kinds of boys—real boys and cut boys like me. I can’t remember anything more about that evening. I have struggled with depression most of my life and I believe it started that evening.

Throughout my school career I kept quiet about my feelings but I always noticed who was a real boy and who was not. Using a public changing room or shower was torture for me, despite the fact that that most of my peers were cut. One would think that I would feel comfortable being one of the majority, but I was not. I longed to be one of those few boys who would walk into the shower proudly sporting a long dangling foreskin! I was in boarding school from std (grade) 6 to 10. I used to shower early in the morning when everyone else was asleep.

Throughout my life I tried to figure out ways to restore myself. I always dreamed of getting a foreskin transplant as a young child, it was the only way I could think of to get back what was taken from me. When I was 14 I remember taping myself. I pulled my remaining skin forward and taped it over my glans. Two problems though—I only had electrical insulation tape so it wasn’t very comfortable and it popped of after not very long. Second, as I was cut rather tight the skin didn’t cover my whole glans, so the tape stuck to my glans where it was not covered—not very comfortable. I didn’t know at the time that if I had found the right tape, and persisted with it, I would actually grow a foreskin back.

At age 21, after spending three years speaking to shrinks, I was finally able to tell one of them what was really on my mind. While it was great to finally be able to talk to someone after suffering in silence for all of my life, it didn’t do much to relieve my distress and anger about my circumcision. He told me that he had never heard of this before and that it was in none of the books he had studied, etc. It was like there was something wrong with me because I hated being circumcised. Now of course I understand that this is a very normal reaction to a violation of this kind and that there was nothing wrong with me at all, but the societal “blackmail” to be grateful that you are circumcised and never to dare speak a word against it was overwhelming. If you dared suggest that you were anything but overjoyed to be circumcised there had to be something wrong with you and you needed psychiatric attention. What a load of trash! What was really unbelievable was the pressure that I witnessed this “arse about face” thinking put on perfectly healthy intact guys. Some actually began to think they were dirty and wished they were circumcised. Not only the circumcised are victims of this revolting practice.

When I was 27-years-old, I discovered the internet and searched for info on circumcision (with some trepidation) and found an internet site all about ending circumcision and instructions on non-surgical restoration. It took me quite some time to get over finding out that I was not the only one who hated being circumcised and wanting to be restored. I got a lot of support from other guys I met via the web page. I started my restoration.

At first I started with the only method we knew back then, taping the remaining skin forward. Mainly this would just keep the glans covered and moist, stretching and skin growth would really only occur during nocturnal erections. This method is very slow but it was a great experience for me. I remember my glans changed colour from a dull pink to a deep healthy purple. At the end of the day, if I had remained covered, I could detect an odour when changing my tape, after a while I also began to produce some smegma. Each of these events was hugely exciting for me and I began to feel like a real person again. My confidence grew and the restoration process had a positive effect on everything I did.

Soon after that the T-Tape method came out and in 1994 I began in earnest with T-Taping. The skin growth rate was incredible compared to the ordinary taping I’d done before and using the toilet was even much easier (you don’t have to pull the tape off to go). It wasn’t long before I was using foam cones with the T-Tape because there was so much skin beyond the glans when under tension that it would fold up and pinch. By 1998 I had full coverage while flaccid and a nice ‘gliding’ skin system while erect.

I stopped in 1998, not because I think I have finished restoring (I can always do with more skin), but because I had achieved what I needed to…

  • An inner peace, wholeness and confidence I never knew before
  • An “up yours” to those cut and allowed me to be cut
  • Being able to ‘glide’ and not ‘rub’ during sex
  • To have to retract before urinating (I can never get used to that!)
  • Smegma!
  • And best of all, TO WALK INTO A PUBLIC SHOWER PROUDLY SHOWING OFF MY FORESKIN