The question of consent
When it comes to circumcision in infant boys
I’ve had so many mixed reviews about this piece already pre publishing it. A few said it was great as is. Others said there were too many threads and stories. A couple were annoyed with me for writing about this…
So I’ve decided to publish it in the original format I wrote it in: it winds and turns, like my mind. But I also decided to not send this one out in an email. I understand the topic of circumcision probably needs a trigger warning and isn’t an ideal thing to land in your inbox without choosing specifically to read on the topic.
I hope that, as ever, you know that I’m learning alongside you as I write and I am open to hearing your opinions and thoughts.
I’m Muslim so the topic of circumcision is one I’ve been aware of from a young age — although I’m not entirely sure I completely understood what it meant in its entirety until much later. What I did know was that most Jewish and Muslim boys were circumcised pretty soon after birth, and that this didn’t really happen in other religions.
In the Torah, God commands Abraham, ‘This is my covenant, which you shall keep, between me and you and your offspring after you: Every male among you shall be circumcised. You shall be circumcised in the flesh of your foreskins, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and you.’ (Genesis 17:10–11). It’s an explicit command.
In the Qur’an, it says, ‘Then We revealed to you: Follow the religion of Ibrahim, inclining toward truth.’ (Quran 16:123). Ibrahim/Abraham was circumcised so Muslims follow his tradition. There is also a Hadith (sayings of the Prophet Muhammad, PBUH) in which the Prophet says, ‘Five things are of the fitra [cleanliness]: circumcision, shaving the pubic hair, trimming the mustache, cutting the nails, and plucking the armpit hair.’ (Sahih Bukhari & Sahih Muslim). Some Islamic schools of thought see it as obligatory, and others see it as a highly recommended practice.1
I didn’t give the topic much thought until a man told me that he’d considered going ‘sleeveless’ as an adult. When he was growing up, online porn was becoming much more accessible, and so more common to watch. American porn dominated and it reflected American culture where circumcision is super common. This man told me that he felt super anxious about his dick because he didn’t look like the people he was seeing on screen who were supposed to be hot and sexually competent, nor did he look like most of his friends who were majority Muslim. He was also worried women would find it… weird. But, he hesitated, because he was worried it would change how he experienced sex.
This threw up two things for me:
1. America’s relationship to circumcision.
I knew it was common in the US but didn’t know why, so I did a bit of reading. It turns out that in the late 1800s, masturbation was believed to cause epilepsy and mental illness, amongst other things. Doctors theorised that circumcision stopped masturbation so they began to perform them regularly for people’s long term health. Although the suspected effects of masturbation were later disproved, circumcision was popularised during the two world wars for new reasons. Hygiene was the stated reason during the first world war. In the second, around 150k soldiers were admitted for foreskin-related conditions so the procedure was again suggested for hygiene reasons. In both, it seemed like it wasn’t an obligation but many saw ‘suggested’ as gospel. There’s some evidence that military leaders used it as a way to get men to submit. Lord knows what conditions these were done in because we know these veterans who became dads consented to infant circumcision to spare their sons the trauma of the adult procedure. From the mid-20th century when more births happened in hospitals, circumcision became a routine procedure — a checkbox exercise often covered by insurance. And it goes on… because like father, like son, right? Hence, the situation with American porn.
2. Circumcision from a pleasure perspective.
Many disagree with circumcision and one of the big things opposers flag is that the foreskin has a whole bunch of pleasure sensors that, when removed, can reduce sensation. This is a highly contested and contentious issue that I don’t entirely want to wade into from the science perspective — but the foreskin/no foreskin debate definitely has an impact in the bedroom. There’s a fear of not knowing what to do:
If you’ve been with a partner who has one, you would have learnt how to pleasure them. You will know how to move the skin up and down to create pleasure, for example. If you’ve only been with a circumcised partner, or learnt from mainstream porn, you might not be familiar with. Instead, you might be used to a tighter grip, and more lubrication, to create that up and down effect. Basically, a presumed technique difference can freak people out.
And look, sex can already be anxiety inducing for people. Thinking about a tiny bit of flappy skin being — or not being — there is definitely going to snap you out of the moment. Obviously, I don’t need to say this, but it shouldn’t matter. If you’re with a partner you trust, just asking what they like, to show you what they like, goes a long way in removing the fear of needing to know what to do. You don’t have to come into sex with a toolkit of moves. Annoying it always comes back to communication, isn’t it?
There’s also a fear of what it might feel like internally for a partner. I asked a bunch of people who’ve been with both about it (the things I do for you, honestly). Everyone said it was different, not better or worse, although people had their preferences (I’ll go out on a limb and say I’m sure other forces also come into play here like the person, size, etc). Everyone told me some version of what this woman said about being with a circumcised partner: ‘It can get dry very quickly, both with hands and internally. You’ve got to use lube from the get go otherwise it’s just painful for both people.’ It can create more friction internally during vaginal or anal sex which some people love, and others said can get a bit ‘raw’ after a while. I turned to Reddit to get some more perspectives from men: ‘I was always insecure about missing out on sensation, like I wasn’t ever going to truly experience sex,’ said a man circumcised during infancy. Another said, ‘How can I miss what I’ve never had?’ A man who was circumcised as an adult for health reasons who was terrified of having shit sex post-op posted, ‘Sex is just as incredible. Blowjobs were tough at first because my skin was so sensitive, but now they’re just as amazing as they were.’
The friend who considered going ‘sleeveless’ didn’t end up opting to do it. I felt like my conclusion was: there’s no rule to rule them all which seems like a positive thing. Preference is essentially what, or who, you know. And there will be other contributing factors too.
And I went back to my life.
…And then I read Banu Mushtaq’s Heart Lamp. One of her short stories tells the story of a rural Indian village’s coming of age ritual of young men: they come to their coming of age ceremony not knowing what to expect. They’re then held down by two older boys as an older man chops off their foreskin. No anaesthetic. No conversation. The boys faint, bleed, get infections. I felt sick, I put the book down for over a week and struggled to come back to it. I had never considered circumcision to be traumatic and it threw up all sorts of questions for me all over again.
I was still thinking about it when an expectant friend and her doctor husband — who is ethnically from a country where circumcision is common — came over for dinner. I didn’t even wait until the end of our starters to get into it (the joys of writing this newsletter is that people expect me to chat about all sorts!). It was pretty clear he wasn’t onboard and, if they had a boy, he’d be au naturel. His argument? The baby couldn’t consent to it.
And that is the biggest argument against circumcision that I’d been missing. There are strong movements pushing for consent, with poster boys wishing they’d had the option. They’re asking, ‘Why aren’t young men given the choice of removing skin that doesn’t necessarily need to be removed? Why aren’t they presented with all the facts and allowed to make the decision when they’re of age?’ The counter argument is that the procedure becomes more complicated as a boy gets older. It’s also more complicated to keep clean without it. And, maybe more importantly, circumcisions are less effective against certain health conditions as you get older:
Research shows a reduction in penile cancer risk if circumcision was done in childhood and suggests female partner see lower cervical cancer rates. Circumcision means no concerns of contracting foreskin conditions like phimosis and balanitis which are actually more common than is discussed. Circumcised men have lower rates of UTIs and STIs. However, others argue that most of these issues are easily treatable, especially in countries with accessible healthcare, clean water, and PrEP for HIV prevention. But the world is unfairly unbalanced like in the case of HIV — the World Health Organisation (the WHO) actually recommends circumcision as an HIV prevention tool in areas where the risk is higher like sub-Saharan Africa.
Yet the question of consent is making more and more people think twice. And things are changing. From a statistical point of view we know that in 2022 in America the rate for newborn circumcision dropped below 50% for the first time in a long long time. Anecdotally, I know more Muslim friends asking previously unasked questions: why did their parents make the choice for them, and will they, in turn, make the same one for their kids?
After all of this, I find myself stuck which is a rubbish take after having thought so much about it. Partly, it’s because I am frustrated that a bunch of the research contradicts itself with accusations from both pro and anti circumcision bodies that the other funds research to back their views. It’s impossible to be informed in an unbiased way. But the research that lands pro circumcision shows its more effective when done younger, for both men and their female partners. I also believe in the right to practice religion as long as it doesn’t harm or traumatise. But I also thoroughly believe in bodily autonomy and the right to consent — and there’s a lot of men asking us to listen to their experiences from across cultures and faiths.
I’m not a scholar so I’ve not gone into depth here as it’s contentious, and complex as a topic. I highly recommend you do your own reading, as well as speak to your own trusted scholars if you’re Muslim and thinking about the topic.