Did I Do the Right Thing When I Circumcised My Son?

Talking about the choice I never gave him

I gave birth to my son when I was 20 years old. Not exactly a teen mom, but definitely not old enough to take full responsibility of another life. At least, that’s how I felt.

I couldn’t legally purchase a bottle of wine, but if I wanted to create the miracle of life and push it forth from my womb, no one bats an eyelash.

As a type-A gal with an anxiety disorder, I worried I wouldn’t know what I was doing once my little boy came to greet me. I wanted to do what was best for him every step of the way. I wanted to raise him right — to make him happy and teach him how to love others. And I wanted to do everything I could to give him the healthiest start.

I prepared by doing all the research I could. I talked to other moms, asked my OB-GYN all the questions I could think of, and read every book or article I could get my hands on.

My doctor and I discussed my pregnancy diet at length. We talked breastfeeding versus formula. And we went over the ins and outs of epidurals. I remember hearing about the risks and benefits of everything that could affect me and my son.

Except circumcision.

We never had a real conversation about the decision to circumcise my son. It was more of an assumption made by my caregivers. A commonplace routine that I was encouraged to go along with.

And I did go along with it, even though it wasn’t something I really thought about. It wasn’t something I researched. And it wasn’t something my providers made sure I truly understood.

Looking back now, I see that there’s something inherently wrong with that.

Fast-forward 13 years later, and I stumble across an article by Kent Clark — an educated writer who is passionately against America’s normalization of circumcision. After reading Scarred for Life: Fourteen meditations against circumcision, I thought deeply about the decision I’d made about my son’s body before he could even speak.

Why hadn’t I contemplated the decision more deeply? Why hadn’t my doctors given me more information? Why didn’t I do the research?

At some point, my son will learn more about circumcision. He might want to talk to me about it. And I want to be ready when he does.

Is circumcision really healthier?

The American Academy of Pediatrics’ (AAP) states that though the procedure of circumcision is not actually a medical necessity, the health benefits outweigh the risks. Some benefits include the prevention of urinary tract infections, some STIs, and penile cancer.

And according to the World Health Organization, there is compelling evidence that circumcision reduces the risk of heterosexually acquired HIV in men by approximately 60%.

In an article titled “Should I Circumcise My Child,” urologist Marcos Del Rosario, MD, shares that males who are circumcised are three times less likely to suffer from urinary tract infections. If these occur frequently, the kidney — which is still developing in small children — may scar and can potentially deteriorate to the point of kidney failure.

These seem like some compelling reasons. But — the fact that I made the decision to take away a part of my son’s genitals when it’s been deemed not medically necessary? That blows my mind.

The research and statistics weren’t enough for me. As someone who doesn’t have the experience of owning a penis, I knew I needed to talk to some of the penis-owning people in my life and get their take on things.

Talking to men candidly about their penises

In my investigation, I started with my long-term partner. We’ve been together for over ten years, and not once has he talked about the fact that he’s circumcised.

When I asked his opinion on the matter, I learned that he’s never really thought about it much, one way or another. “I like the look of it more. I think circumcision is more attractive,” he said. “Otherwise, it’s never really affected me, in all honesty.”

Aesthetics is one thing. But, those who take an anti-circumcision stance understand that if someone prefers to modify thier genitals to feel more attractive or to conform with social beauty standards, then it should be that person’s choice. Not something a parent decides.

My body, my choice.

As a feminist who’s been witness to acts of violence against women and laws threatening our autonomy, to say this viewpoint strikes a chord in me is an extreme understatement.

Moving on in my investigation as a woman and mother — to a man whose penis I’ve never seen, but who generously and publicly shares his experience as an uncircumcised, cisgender male with phimosis: Mr. Jake Austin.

Phimosis is a condition in which the foreskin is so tight that it can’t be pulled from around the tip of the penis. I first learned about it after discovering Emma Austin’s stimulating and educational writing.

In “I Married a Man with Phimosis,” Emma shares: “His tight foreskin meant he never got enough stimulation from sex to actually ejaculate. It was like his cock was covered in a permanent flesh condom.”

In their podcast, Emma and Jake have an illuminating discussion on male sexual health in an episode called All About My Husband’s Dick (Phimosis, Delayed Ejaculation, and Death Grip).

After hearing the episode, I had some follow-up questions. The Canadian-based Mr. Austin was kind enough to expand on the matter when I reached out.

Mr. Austin explains:

“To me, foreskins have always been normal, and the circumcision rate here was never high. Because of that, I guess I’ve always thought of it mostly as a cosmetic choice. And like any kind of body modification you do for aesthetic reasons, it makes sense to leave that kind of decision for a person to make themselves when they’re an adult (or maybe teenagers of a certain age), like you would a tattoo.”

When it comes to dealing with his phimosis, which could be cured with circumcision, Mr. Austin is currently trying less extreme treatments that will enable him to keep his foreskin intact, such as stretching in combination with steroid cream.

“My parents were aware of it, but they never addressed it with me or consulted a medical professional. They were weird about dick stuff, ya know? I guess that’s why I spent a long time figuring I’d just live with it. Which is a shame, because given how quickly I’m making progress with treatment now, I could’ve gone into my mid-teens with a fully retractable foreskin.”

While Mr. Austin is open to circumcision if necessary, for him, it’s a last resort:

“I consider my foreskin to be an integral part of my cock — it’s got some physical sensitivity and I’m more interested in masturbating with it than without it. Cutting it off seems kind of like getting my eyelids surgically removed.”

Next up, we have the brilliant and talented writer, Kent Clark, who was circumcised as an infant and is now vehemently opposed to it as a routine medical procedure.

After becoming a fan of his honest and vulnerable style of writing, I was ecstatic when he agreed to grant me an interview for this article. Our conversation is as follows.

Holly: Infant circumcision raises questions of consent and autonomy. How do you feel about the fact that you weren’t given a choice in the matter?

Kent: Autonomy and consent are the foundational cornerstones of human rights. That’s why I oppose routine circumcision (for non-medically urgent reasons). I feel like I was robbed because a piece of my body was removed without my permission, and I can never get it back.

Holly: Some evidence has indicated that male circumcision does not appear to adversely affect sexual function or satisfaction. Do you agree?

We’re talking about a natural part of the human body, a part that has evolved for specific functions (both health and sexual) over millions of years. The foreskin is a brilliantly designed piece of engineering as well as an essential element for protective and proactive penis use.

Can a circumcised penis still get erect? Yes. Can it still urinate and ejaculate? Yes. Is it still responsive to stimulation and erotic arousal? Hopefully, yes. But should it, therefore, be considered unharmed and unchanged by the stripping of its foreskin? That’s like asking if there’s no significant difference between driving uphill in a VW Bus and cruising around a racetrack in a Ferrari. I’ve never ridden in a Ferrari, but it sure looks different from a distance!

Most foreskins aren’t ready to naturally retract until anywhere between 5 and 15 years of age. Based on candid conversations I’ve had with intact men, it seems like my penile glans is less sensitive than it should be due to a lifetime of being exposed, chafed, and dried out. Intact men describe their glans as being extraordinarily sensitive to exposure and touch, whereas mine is mostly numb. I also commonly experience rapid arousal and orgasm, which I believe is at least partially a result of circumcision, since the erogenous underside of my shaft is continuously exposed to stimulation during erotic encounters in ways it would not be if it were protected by a foreskin.

As for sex, it is universally understood (except, alas, in America) that the foreskin — anchored by the frenulum, an equally functional part — provides a smooth, frictionless gliding action for any activity in which the penis is physically being stimulated. Without that protective layer of flexible skin to “ride” through each stroke or thrust, a circumcised penis is (as I can attest from experience) radically more likely to experience chafing and require significantly more lubrication merely to avoid pain. And where’s the fun in that?

Holly: What would you say to parents whose medical team recommends circumcision as the safest option?

Kent: I’m not a trained medical professional, but my response is to look at the larger picture. Everyone who has ever developed prostate cancer was born with a prostate gland. Should we, therefore, remove the prostate of every infant in order to prevent potential future cancer? What about the testicles of everyone who might later develop testicular cancer? If a penis could catch herpes, should we cut the offending penis off in advance? If doctors routinely lopped off every limb and organ that posed a potential future health risk, there would be a lot less of all of us left to grow up in good health.

Holly: What would you say to an expectant mother who is trying to decide whether or not to get her son circumcised after birth?

Kent: I would encourage any expectant parent to do their research into exactly these kinds of clinical and personal conversations, no matter how awkward or squeamish the parents may feel. They should ask for their doctor’s advice on circumcision during the pregnancy, and then (if possible) ask another doctor as well, and compare the answers.

And there’s no reason to limit yourself to information in the Internet Age. There are dozens of outstanding online educational videos demonstrating the functions of a foreskin that I would encourage any parent to watch to counterbalance the pro-circumcision health stats provided by groups like the AAP.

If a doctor can’t provide a precise, thorough, convincing answer for or against circumcision, then the parents should default to neutral and not let anyone irrevocably mutilate their child’s penis.

Encourage a dialogue

No matter which side of the fence we’re on when it comes to infant circumcision as a common medical procedure, one thing is certain: we need to be talking about it more.

As potential parents, or as allies to penis-owners, or simply as humans who have an interest in doing what is right and good and healthy for children in our society — we need to take a good, hard look as to why so many of us view circumcision as no big deal and nothing to be concerned about.

It seems to me that doctors should be more informed and talk about this more to potential parents. And, if a doc simply brushes through it and expects parents to just go along, as I did, it’s our job to bring it up. It’s our job as parents to do the research.

It’s also our job as women to listen to our penis-owning friends who have real feelings and real opinions about their reproductive health.

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