(fragments of a very human article by http://shouldicircumcise.blogspot.com/)
We were talking about circumcision. I'm sure I was irritated that she
had brought it up. She mentioned my scar. "I don't have a scar!" I
said with cultivated indignance
"That's what that ring is right here, honey," she said as gently as possible.
that moment it dawned on me how little I knew about my own body. My
next question was how the hell I could not know that and that was when I
finally started to realize I was using this minimalization of what had
happened to me to avoid dealing with how I really felt about it. She
then proceeds to tell me how this idea of restoration works. She rolls
some of the skin on my dick past the scar and it really freaks me out. I
stop her twice before she is finally able to do it. Again, I'm left
wondering what the hell my problem is when this woman has touched my
dick a substantial number of times without ever inspiring this feeling
of abject terror and discomfort I'm currently experiencing. Then I
realize it doesn't even hurt when she does it, it feels kind of natural
and I realize all of it, the discomfort that is, is in my head.
wasn't like all the lights turned on at once that night but it was the
beginning of a kind of awakening that culminated in my realization that I
was not happy my parents had signed up for part of my dick to be
removed and i was really pissed that the American medical community had
encouraged them to do just this and had made a practice of doing it to
people for all kinds of bizarre invented reasons since the 19th
century. Now I was REALLY uncomfortable. I realized that what had been
done to me was really, royally screwed up but I had no idea what the
hell to do about it. Boy was I a miserable jerk for a few weeks there.
By then my son had been born and I saw what a real, normal penis is
supposed to look like. Um, yeah, it's like the difference between going
out to play in the snow with your coat on and walking outside naked.
It's like looking at one normal finger and than looking at a finger than
has the fingernail ripped off and here's this naked nail bed all dried
out and fucking weird. That denial really started to fall apart after
the first twenty or so diaper changes. But I'm glad of course. That's a
hell of a thing to live your life without realizing that a huge part of
you has been missing since you were about 4 days old.
It's a hard thing to face this stuff when you can't even remember it
being done and your whole life everytime you hold your dick in your
hands to take a piss you think it's perfectly normal that it looks that
way. You're talking about rising up against decades of cognitive
dissonance. I can't imagine how difficult it would be to come to such a
realization after you've already circed your child. Anyone who has the
gumption to face a mistake like that and speak out about it deserves a
frikkin' medal in my book.