In my suburban Chicago late 70’s/early 80’s upbringing, it was the norm. Everyone was circumcised.

My mom explained it to me when I was a pre-teen—in graphic detail. When I say graphic, I mean she took my penis and pulled the shaft skin up, covering the glans, and then showed me where it was cut. She also told me how afterwards, the skin often “got stuck like glue” to the glans and my pediatrician had to force the skin back to break the adhesions. My mom told me that she continued to pull it back until I was bathing myself.

It didn’t bother me much until I had my first real girlfriend and my first sexual encounter. When it was over, she asked if (more…)

In order to make sense of my feelings on the issue of circumcision, I wrote this history which
helps me to understand how my thoughts developed.

3–6 years old:
My earliest clear memories (3–4 years old) is the recollection of sneaking around the locker room every chance I could to try to see as many penises as possible. I was always very pleased when I saw someone with foreskin, but it was ALWAYS on an “old man”, NEVER on another kid. My logic told me that for some reason, I also had an old man’s penis. I knew I was a kid and wanted to look like the other kids including my two older brothers. My father was intact (I only saw him a few times in my life), but I NEVER wanted to look like him. Eventually I realized that some “old men” were circumcised and some were not. I was then more confused about the different types of penises, but figured that all old men would look intact—the process just took more time with some people than with others. I can’t say that I recall thinking that there was something drastically wrong with me, but simply that I had an old man’s penis (though, without pubic hair, etc.).

Having watched my nieces and nephews trying to sneak around when they were little (there is nothing subtle about it), I now understand why people sometimes seemed to give me strange looks and cover themselves as I was trying so hard to “innocently” look (more…)

Hi, my name is Tom and I’m from Michigan. Here’s my story and where I’m at now.

I always thought being circumcised was “normal.” As normal and necessary as cutting the umbilical cord on a newborn baby. As a teen, I remember often getting in an argument with a friend who was originally born in Germany about how the uncircumcised penis needed to be cut, because there was “too much” skin, and it was ugly and didnt look like a “real” penis. When I say often, I mean just about every time we’d be out hiking in the forest or were a little far from home and had a piss. I guess comparing penises is something kids do.

Anyways, I always thought I had the most perfect penis that anyone could possibly have. It never came across to me that the reason I always had to wear one-size-too-small briefs was to keep it from rubbing and causing a terrible pain or sensation with nearly every move I made. I always thought it was “normal” to have to experiance that terrible pain when I moved certain ways, or every time I got up or sat down. When I was 17 I decided that (more…)

I wish I would have read something like these stories in time; my two boys have been cut and I regret it with every ounce of my being. My pediatricians never told me of any of the risks, nor the fact that circumcision is medically unnecessary, they never even asked us why we wanted them circumcised. I found out later about dangers and complications from circumcision, and both my boys have had to endure problems from their circumcisions. This surgery has been traumatic, physically and emotionally, for our whole family.

With our first born, E, I am ashamed to say that we hardly discussed it beyond answering the hospital staff’s question of when, and signing the consent form. It was just a given that E would be circumcised because his dad was circumcised. At that point, I had never seen an uncircumcised penis, not even E’s. I never changed his diapers in the hospital. Today I regret that. I should have changed his diapers and seen what he looked like naturally. I feel like even more of an idiot when (more…)

I was born at Community Memorial Hospital in Sidney, Montana. At that time it was rare for anyone to escape the knife, although I know a few who did. It was probably considered medical malfeasance at the time if they missed you somehow. The majority of boys in the U.S. are still cut, but the rate is getting down a lot closer to half nationwide, though it’s much higher in some states and much lower in others. It’s like the luck of the draw anymore, rather than a done deal, although the chance of growing up with the dick you were born with is still poor.

Having been cut twice, I feel I am qualified to write on this topic. I remember about the time of puberty, around 12 years of age or so, how uncomfortable (more…)

Many years ago, I witnessed an infant circumcision in person at the invitation of a mutilator. He invited me to attend, to prove to me that there is nothing wrong with mutilating babies. He also decided and told me that he would not do a complete circumcision, just a little dorsal slit, to minimize trauma, damage, injury, and blood loss. “I will cut on the center line. There are no blood vessels there.” (Right.)

I decided to go. White mutilator, black baby, southern USA, 1972 or so. With the first probe under the foreskin the baby screams a blood curdling scream and keeps screaming. With the crushing of the center line of the top of the foreskin with the hemostat the baby’s screaming and thrashing ratchet WAY up (he was restrained by tie-downs, put in place in preparation for this human hurricane they already knew from long experience was coming) and when the clamp comes off and the dorsal cut is made the baby begins to vomit—projectile vomiting—the most violent vomiting I have ever witnessed from any human being. Blood from the baby’s penis spurts everywhere. The vomiting interrupts the screaming and the screaming interrupts the vomiting. The mutilator takes out his sewing kit and (more…)

Like most Americans, I had no clue what circumcision was, exactly. As a child, I was told that it was simply something that boys had done. Instinctually, I knew it was wrong since it made no sense that every single male would be born defective. While at college in the late 1990s, I was browsing the web and came upon the topic. It was a crudely drawn diagram of normal male anatomy and the subsequent removal of the foreskin. It struck me as very creepy and primitive.

A few years later, I got married and soon was expecting my first child; a boy. Prior to finding out the gender of our child, I revisited the circumcision topic. I read all of the alarmist literature on the subject; doctors and parents talking about how circumcision prevents UTIs, penile cancer, cervical cancer, and all sorts of random infections. It struck me as fearmongering. I found out that no organization in the world recommends routine circumcision and haven’t in a long time, with the single exception of when circumcision advocate Edgar Schoen led the AAP circumcision task force. I found out that infant circumcision for is almost unheard of in most of the world and is seen as a religious ritual, not a medical procedure.

Later, I learned that my inital impression of fearmongering was correct. (more…)

Today, as I have for so many days over the past several years, I am wearing my tugger, struggling to restore the foreskin that was taken from me all those many years ago. Each time I look at my mutilated cock I am reminded of what I have lost, what was stolen from me, and it strengthens my resolve to restore that stolen foreskin, to re-cover my naked glans. Yet there are also the days when I am depressed, when I can’t face the effort of putting on my tugger and the minor discomfort of wearing it for hours at a time. What a cruel fate that what took only minutes to cut away now takes years to restore.

I really don’t remember much about the cutting. I do know that I was not circumcised as an neonate because I was born at home.   Rather, the terrible deed was done when I was 5 or 6, while I was having my tonsiles removed.   he only good part of that is that I was totally anesthetized while it happened and didn’t feel the pain of the cutting. But I woke up hurting—my throat hurt, my pee-pee hurt, but most of all I was terribly sick to my stomach from the ether that was used as anesthesia way back then.

As a kid I was quite aware of the visual difference between cut and intact. I had been intact for the first few years of my life and then suddenly I was cut.  My father, whom I often saw naked, was intact.  My brother, a year younger than I, was cut.  Several of my junior and senior high classmates, whom I regulary saw naked in the gym class showers, were intact. But like most Midwestern American boys (more…)

I was cut at the age of five. The reasons they told me are a bit dubious. They said I had phimosis. But there was just one look of my physisian at my penis and just another very short examination of it by another doctor (the same doctor who earned money circumcising me). This second examination lasted aproximately one minute, then it was clear to them that I had to be cut. The circumcision itself was quite without problems and the healing was OK. I was cut low and loose, i.e. most of my inner foreskin was removed for cosmetic reasons. The next six months after my circumcision were quite difficult. I got frequent erections and my glans was ached. I don’t get unwanted erections that often now, but they still happen. Furthermore, my glans aches after visiting a swimming pool.

When I had swimming class in school, and saw for the first time other naked boys, I was the only one who was circumcised, and the others laughed at me. I was quite shocked about my body when I hear in biology that the glans would be the most sensitive part of the penis, my personal experience was otherwise. With my first tries of masturbation I had quite a lot of problems to reach an orgasm until I found the right technique. But still after masturbation my glans is quite sore and aching.

The worst is to read on internet forums about techniques of masturbating with an intact penis and to read that the most intense feelings come from the foreskin. I have never had the chance of having these feelings and I will never get it and no one asked me before circumcising.

I hope my story, together with other blogs, can help to stop senseless circumcising and give other boys the chance for a natural sexuality.

As part of my self imposed therapy, I write about my feelings and have composed this poem. I hope someone can benefit from some of these words.

    ATAVISM
    He said “It’s just a little nip and tuck,
    Nothing really to worry about.
    It’s best to get it over with now,
    He’ll never know without a doubt.”
    “A ‘lifetime of benefits’ can be realized.
    Trust me, we know what we say.
    And we would never do anything,
    That would cause harm in any way.”
    “For, you see, I took an oath
    When I was idealistic and young,
    So sign the form and consent
    And hand me over your newborn son.”
    And the benefits keep rolling in
    A panacea of health and gratification.
    Like the highest HIV rate
    Of any industrialized nation.
    Protection for every man-child
    In every sub-Saharan nation.
    As professional arrogance gone wild
    Substitutes surgery for education.
    And they know not what they take
    And they know not what they lose
    And they know not what they make
    And they no longer have the right to choose.
    Thus each is forever transfigured
    Into an Adonis of some stranger’s choosing.
    But would you cut off a toe or finger
    At the whim of society’s musing?
    How can you miss what you never knew?
    How can you feel loss or even mourn?
    Perhaps you should ask a man who
    Was born with only one arm.
    So they are the walking wounded
    Maimed by intentions of pure hue,
    By a people and a profession
    Who are afraid to know what is true.
    And for most, I can suppose
    It really is not so sorrowful,
    For the forces of denial and ignorance
    Are mighty god-damned powerful.
    But for those who suspect otherwise
    Who wonder what might really be lost,
    Who think that nature just might be wise
    This shunned minority suffers the real cost.
    There are more of them than you know
    Suffering their pain in stoic anonymity
    Lost, a teeming midway sideshow
    Faint light in the dark of blind conformity.
    Does the rest of the world laugh, appalled
    At our misandrous archaic ritual?
    Knowing a whole body in adult life
    As something to be enjoyed as sensual.
    It is obvious and in no doubt true
    A diet of hamburgers, fries and shakes,
    Is fine if you never see the whole menu
    Which lists caviar, Champaign and steaks.
    Thereby does it continue forward
    No atavistic reform in sight,
    Great grandfathers having no word
    On their descendant son’s plight.

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