Month: May 2015

I’ve been watching this story develop through social media feeds of the various genital integrity groups I follow. A mother in Florida named Heather Hironimus took shelter with her four year old son to prevent him from undergoing circumcision of his penis, which the estranged father was demanding in court. Now it is up to a judge to decide whether the child will undergo a permanent, irreversible cutting ritual on his penis, which he has stated he does not want.

Everything is wrong with this case:

– The idiotic rationale of the father (“I just think it’s the normal thing to do” is what he said)

– The all too common effort to hurt the child in order to hurt the ex-partner

– The fact that it is playing out in court, and the inconceivability of this ever being debated if it were a girl whose genitals were to be cut

– The fact that the child is over four now, and that if he were to be circumcised now, he would remember every detail, including whatever forced restraints were used on him, and what his penis looked like before and after it was altered

I have never really shitted a fuck about issues that fall in the broad “mommy lit” genre (such as debates over parenting methods that play out endlessly in the news media). But this male genital cutting gets me so upset. I sometimes avoid Facebook because my feed is full of horrific stories of the latest boys to die from the ritual (I will not call it a “procedure,” even if it is done by a cut-happy doctor) and of statistics on adverse outcomes. Millions of babies undergoing genital cutting because of tribal custom, superstition, and an anti-masturbation campaign from the 1800s, is outrageous and disgusting to me. I get upset, then I think about it all day, and then I regret the powerlessness of my own disgust and outrage.

But the truly powerless ones are the infants strapped down and cut and altered, never to be intact again.

If anyone thinks I am strident in my atheism, and wonders why, I will ask if you want to see my penis, for I will gladly show you: I bear the physical scars of my parents’ religion, and of the dominant religion of the culture I happened to be born into. Although I could fully reject these dark superstitions as I came into reason (between the ages of 8 and 18), I can never, ever be physically intact.

However I will resist the urge to wallow. There is hope:

– Many more people nowadays are aware of female genital cutting, and are rightly outraged by it. They will compare their opposition to this practice to their silence and equivocation on male genital cutting, and they will reconsider.

– There is a crowdfunding effort to start a foreskin regeneration company using stem cells to allow individuals to regain an intact penis, potentially with some semblance of the original vasculature and innervation

– There are devoted amateurs online who have developed tools to stretch the skin of the penis into something resembling an intact foreskin. I am impressed with their ingenuity, their desire to share their techniques, and with their spirit of rebuilding what was lost.

– Male genital cutting is declining in our country and 80% of the world’s men are intact.

I believe the methods of restoration will be perfected enough for me myself to eventually sign up. I treasure the hope that within 20 years infant male genital cutting will be completely outlawed in the USA. And we will shake our heads at what we deem an era of hypocrisy, blindness and ethical confusion.

– I moved to Saint Paul. It won’t be that bad. The people here are pretty much the same: legs, teeth, hair. Seeing the sunset over the river is surprisingly unfamiliar to me since I’ve lived on the other side my whole life.

– During the move I purged unused and lightly used items. I am proud of myself because I discarded things based on legitimate criteria I had established in advance instead of just personal attachment:

• Is the thing damaged, stained or frayed (thermoses, clothes, shoes)
• Is it a duplicate (sleeping bags and pillows)
• Is it old, heavy, cumbersome and easily replaced (textbooks, a lamp, cookery, three bookshelves and a coffee table)
• Is it consumable and can it be used during the move to protect other things (tin foil, baggies, old clothes as padding, etc.)
• Can it be entrusted to the solicitude of willing neighbors (two large spider plants, another coffee table, and a Sansevieria)

Now everything I own can fit in a Toyota Corolla, with ample space and comfort for my select houseplants.

And I look at all the empty space I now have and see opportunity to be deliberate. Not just to scavenge junk from alleys, but to consider light, air and greenery as I furnish the new apartment.

– A security guard asked if I was "in the service." I said "No, but I play a lot of Call of Duty!" Not sure he liked that. It’s the results of my vein-embiggening exercise regimen that attracts attention, mostly from other dudes.

– I am reading "Ultralight Backpackin’ Tips." It’s one of those highly practical books, loaded with information, that is also laced with the philosophy and worldview of the author. I have my new hammock and am ready to go.

But even this statement does not meet the standards set forth in the book which I’ll make a concerted effort to internalize. Paring down to sub-25 lb means thinking in terms of "systems." To sleep safe and warm I should only carry my "sleep system," not specific items I may have deemed essential without examining them. When it’s hot enough I may choose to sleep in a bivy sack on the ground with no hammock at all.