
As a feminist, I believe in consent and autonomy for all bodies — not just women’s bodies.
When my husband and I looked at the screen in the ultrasound room and saw that we were having a girl, we both breathed a sigh of relief. Not because we didn’t want to have a boy, but because it meant the circumcision debate was off the table.
RELATED: Hey, dads? Your health affects your baby’s too.
We both knew I was steadfast in my opposition to circumcision. Not only would I not change my mind, but it would be a hard discussion to broach with our Jewish families.
Were we to have a boy, we would have been expected to have what is called a bris — a ritual ceremony where a rabbi circumcises and blesses a baby boy on his eighth day of life. Meaning everyone would know if we decided not to circumcise our son.
But if it’s a tradition in our families and religion to circumcise a boy at birth, why am I so against it?
I wasn’t always against circumcision, but I had also never thought much about it. It was the norm within my family and with most of the men I had sexual contact with early on. I’d heard the stories about uncut penises being ‘gross,’ and I didn’t know any better, so I believed them. (Post continues after gallery.)
Pregnant celebs of 2015.
It wasn’t until college, when two things happened that made me reconsider circumcision: the first was that I slept with an uncut guy and found that it wasn’t gross. It was actually kind of awesome.