Blade raped

Close scalpelWilliam S. from Connecticut shares his story.
This is as much as I can recollect about being raped as a child. It was a day that stood out of my entire life. I was not at all sick. I was walking around fine. It started with I didn’t get a very big breakfast that day, they told me I had to do something later. They drove me to a place that was not my regular doctor. A different building. It was likely the hospital I was born and the fact they were brining me back there joking about returning me if I misbehaved was disturbing in itself. I was truly feeling fine, why did they bring me here to the medical place?? I had already got my shots at the pediatrician. It was many years ago. But I remember this all far too vividly, walking into the building with apprehension. Despite my perpetual asking what this was, they still would not tell me what it was for. Only that it was something I “needed”.

I was taken into a room, my (late, now deceased) parents were both there with me. At least my mom was there throughout it. Once it started my dad had turned away at some point and then left the room, I couldn’t see his face anymore. A bit of some drama, in the begining a somewhat lady like man had trouble getting me into a restraint board device. I was already too big for it. My mom partially held my arms from behind me. It was a Circumstraint, a child, 4 quarters body restraint board. I was an immensely huge boy growing up. 11.+ lbs born, and when I was brought in for this I was walking, talking brilliant boy of possibly like around 2 year old. Give or take. I really do not know if it was way before, or somewhat after..

I do not have kids of my own. I knew only that I could walk, talk and had started to bathe on my own. Later on, By the start of kindergarden I was as big as a 2nd grader and read on a high school level. I was literate above all child standards. When this trauma happened my dad had stopped carrying me most of the time. He was older, 50s and I was that huge child.. After I was lifted up onto a cold table with something strange on it…

The restraining was then done. I was held down totally, I couldn’t move at all. All I remember was my mom telling me to calm down. I was in a total panic. Asking why?? She still wouldn’t tell me the reason I was there only that it was “something boys had to get” Mom never ever failed to share technical details, she was a retired USAF flight instructor. After being held down for no idea how long, I had no clothing throughout this. I was cold, but I was sweating. I did not feel right, or safe, the first time I did not feel safe next to mom. I looked at her and she looked elsewhere.

My heart started to pound out of my chest. My ears started ringing. I was dizzy for some reason. Maybe I had started a tantrum? I was beyond uncomfortable and would not stop asking why-why-WHY-why-WHY is this so? This person is NOT my Doctor! (I loved my regular pediatrician until I was 19 years old). As I yelled and questioned mom. She still wouldn’t say. That lady like man that was not my regular pediatrician was vigorously fondling my no-no parts, and I could not even lift my head up to see. That was just the tip of the horror. My mom told me to stay as still as I could. She even made a rather inappropriate comment about you better not jump around too much you don’t want him to mess it up. MESS WHAT UP? I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE!!!

Then the pain started to hit me, intensely beyond any lifetime experience of pain even now decades later. I remember it searing through my body. I will never have any pain in my life that intense. In my adult life I’ve broken my neck, scraped my entire face up on 20 yards of gravel, broke two ribs, my foot, a finger. Been burned, sliced open, surgeries, Only a broken rib left me hunched over and barely able to move. The pain of what they were doing made stars flash dance in front of my eyes. My head was pounding like hammers going at the sides, top. I heard my heart pounding. It felt like my most sensitive boy part was mashed under something that weighed a thousand pounds. I wanted to swing and flail but I was totally restrained. Well, I learned after all the memories came resurfacing… a vital organ of mine was actually being crushed by hundreds of pounds of pressure in a circumcision clamp that I could not see. The most sensitive part of any baby boy’s anatomy, with over 20,000 nerve endings was being crushed inside a piece of metal designed to amputate 60-90% of a male’s nerve endings that have the greatest feeling.

I was held there with my bundle of concentrated nerve endings being crushed for several minutes, as was the brutal cosmetic ritual I didn’t consent to. The pain at this point was beyond blunt drill bits being jammed into my body & mallets pounding my head. I would say white hot pain, but I’ve been burned by things white hot, you only hurt for a second and then you don’t. This pain, continued, and continued, and continued. I know I blacked out at several points from the screaming, or the shock my body had just gone into. I have vivid memories specked with periods of nothing. Feeling violated just scratches the surface of what was going on in my young brain. If they had used any anaesthetic, it didn’t do a god damn fucking thing. I felt every bit. Continued through this horrible genital pain I was being tortured and blade raped with, still mostly conscious. I likely went into shock, and lost blood. I remember there was blood all over. I have always been very outspoken, proud, independent, and strong, even as a toddler.

I’m Swedish / Scandinavian / German, but born in Connecticut . I remember standing up and feeling very, very dizzy. The room was spinning. I felt as if my private parts had been smashed with a sledge hammer several times, then left under a bank safe. The pain was still immeasurable but it had changed intensity from a burning to a massive weight on my private part. My legs were shaking, my head spinning. My penis was still partially trapped under a bank safe, but I was walking. Sort of. I started to leave the room and go down a hallway. I was upset and determined to walk on my own and leave these people that had pretended to love me but taken me for this torture. I finally stopped, leaned up against the wall. Not moving. Building spinning. I could carry myself no longer. My dad picked me up and carried me out of the building. He was already in mediocre health.

I feel strongly this was the last time in my life that my late father ever carried me. He died of a brain cancer when I was 24. The majority of the rest of the day there are no more memories. The next clear memory about the traumatic event was bath time. I don’t even know if it’s the same day or the mid day after. Several things about this are vivid, traumatic, as if they are on the best 4k 3D TV made. I was taking my clothes off at a bath my mother had drawn in a tub. My mom was across the hall in her bedroom. I was in the bathroom alone. I took the bandage off. My jaw dropped. WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY PENIS?? IT WAS NOT AT ALL THE SAME !? It did not even look like my fathers intact penis. I was so angry, shocked. There was a brief conversation. My asking her what was done, what, why, why, why did they change it? I had no complaints or problems. I didn’t say that I wanted that. Even at that age I knew it was wrong. Why did they hurt me, alter me?

Thoughts bounced through my tiny head. My mom adamantly told me it was to protect me from things as I got older, what, you dont want to get problems later in life do you? It was preventative. Your penis could fall off if you didn’t have it. You’ll get penis cancer, you’ll get urinary tract infections. You’ll catch something. (These are lies). I said, but I don’t have problems yet, I said I don’t understand this and it hurts now. I want the Penis I had back. Fix it now. Take this action back. She told me that’s how it was going to be from now on. She acted like it was some sort of prize that I didn’t have to clean behind the foreskin anymore (she didn’t mention or likely know that I wont feel sex nearly as much, for life either).

I remember in my first year or two of life prior to the cutting, mom was almost borderline obsessed with pull the foreskin back and clean it. I’ve since learned, on baby boys, do not ever retract the foreskin. Leave it until its comfortable for the owner of the skin to move it.

Mom was taught very wrong by misinformed doctors and many are still misinformed to this day. Seriously it’s like America is still in 1948 with boy’s genitals. I think I started to get mad at her at that time & bury some very subconscious rage. I’m not sure at all, that may have been the beginning of a slow downfall of our mother-son relationship. I just don’t know.

The feelings of being violated wouldn’t go away. As far as my penis, I didn’t know how I felt about that drastic change. I started to gradually lower myself into the bath water that day. It still felt like my part was trapped under a heavy safe but it was not ten tons as before. Just as if it had a massive weight crushing it. I could not touch it at all or pain would radiate through my entire body. I urinated on my own leg and the floor a couple times, that on its own felt as if I was urinating pure acid. I started gradually lowering myself into the bath, I was so very sore, worn out, so difficult to go slowly. My penis touched the water and it was as if I had put it into molten volcanic lava. The pain came back and radiated through my body like lightning waves of agony. I finally got myself into the water for a quick bath, got out, I passed out again. End of specific memories other than a “I’m glad its finally healed up” one. Buried deeply in corners of my brain for decades, yet still vivid.

That’s the majority of the memories of my circumcision, or male genital mutilation, involuntary modification that I suffered. In one group, I’ve heard myself referred to as “a survivor”, it’s because there is an American baby boy fatality rate with this genital blade rape. That’s not something most mothers are ever informed of. The defects, the necessity of the organ, the times they mess it up. Its very vascular. The health issues happen 100% of the time to boys.

They often do not tell the complications that will happen to parents. Some are severe, some are nuisance, some are not as severe. But EVERY SINGLE male its been done to in America and Israel has issues from a genital cutting. It is not done at all in Europe, they learned, circumcision harms. The difference in men is, the ones that don’t think they have issues have not read what its supposed to be like, naturally for an intact male. I thought until my late 30s that the painful erections with the skin way too tight were natural, how things were. Before she passed away, I yelled at my mom that she didn’t have the right to alter me and put me at unneeded risk of life and health as a baby.

After watching the BBC programme, “Doctor Money & the boy with no penis”, a very moving documentary from 2004, about a boy who lost his penis entirely from a circumcision & was raised as a girl with a forced gender reassignment. I knew I’d lost some feeling from the cutting, but I’ll never know how much & that will stay unknown for life. I knew I had lost too much skin. As any boy victim has. What I lost was the average cutting in America called a Radical Amputation of foreskin or.. some Jewish term, but I’m not Jewish, and neither were my parents. My freedom of religion & genital autonomy was totally stolen from me. I am a firm believer in My body My choice for humans. Women are 100% entitled to it, but those mothers must not be hypocrites and make life time genital altering ignorant choices for boys. Let them decide after 18. That’s genital autonomy or body integrity.

My mother was not sincerely apologetic. She had some dementia by this age. It was pointless trying to explain to a woman her age & level of stubborn about how she had mutilated me for life. I had less feeling than an intact man, it was not her right to inflict that. I explained it a couple times more to her and then gave up. She passed of many health problems later that decade.

In my 30s I thought that the BBC “Dr Money & the boy with no penis”, David Reimer documentary was a mostly isolated incident. In my 40s, now, I’ve learned that it is far from an isolated occurrence. Trauma, horrific memories, physical & mental issues happen all the time. I’ve never had a sexual partner complain about how my parts worked, like I said, I thought things were all normal down there. Until my 40s. Then I learned. Its not a normal phallus by global standards. I was mutilated, I was blade raped. This is not what a natural birth intact penis looks like, or how it works. It’s the interpretation of that femmy male pedophile that chopped off several square inches of nerve dense skin, 4 or 5 different parts of my manhood when I was a defenseless child. Do what you love, love what you do, and you’ll never work a day in your life they say!

Its taken me a month to write this without totally loosing my shit. My Frenulum, my orifice rim, my ridged band, my frenulum muco-cutaneous part of my penile skin are all totally gone. Possibly made into womens facial cream back then. There is no way to ever know how much but I’ve lost, 60??-90??%, of the feeling my penis was supposed to have from mother nature, god, evolution, the flying spaghetti monster, what have you (it’s your choice!). It’s never coming back.

I learned all this in a tremendous life altering reading binge in my 40s, as work was slow from winter, and the city partially shut down from the global COVID virus panic. I am now part of group of many thousands of people trying to end this “tribal cutting” or “Cosmetic genital modification” …..The Religious blood sacrifice. The torturous event that plagues boys in America to this day. It is a profoundly evil thing to do to men, and boys. It’s perpetuated by a medical financial complex that feeds parents pure, absolute total misinformation, or even worse, no information at all and sexually biased lies. The Religion that owns hospitals, and the banks, perpetuates the misinformation. It’s not something I can ever be silent about again. I don’t know why when they cut many men it’s as if they cut out part of their tongue. This may have even altered some of my listening habits. One of my Pandora stations was seeded with the musicals “Man of La Mancha”, “Anne”, & “Fiddler on the roof”. Sometimes I like broadway sound tracks I remember from childhood… but I don’t know if when I hear the song “Tradition” from “Fiddler” again I will still love it, or if it will make me become physically ill… After all that I’ve now learned.

William S. Connecticut.

I confronted my mutilator

Doctor N** S** K** holder of medical general practitioner qualifications, mutilated my genitalia and ruined my life.
During neonatal health check N** S** K** advised my parents that I, unlike my father and siblings required a circumcision. Although my parents thought my penis looked no different to my brothers at the same age, they trusted the Doctor.
The lying Doctor N** S** K** circumcised me when 2 weeks old along with 5 other baby boys. His brutal acts on normal healthy tissue were carried out without any form of anaesthetic. Was he a paedophile? He obviously enjoyed doing it.

My younger brother and I shared a bedroom consequently his normal natural penis was in front of me every time we dressed huddled round the electric heater. I felt abnormal, ashamed of my penis, incomplete and inferior.
When running about at school I got kicked between the legs. I was bleeding from my Glans. I had to suffer the embarrassment of showing it to the teachers, then to my parents and of course my elder brother was there. When I was six I had a serious illness I was told I was lucky to be alive. From the day of the kick for the rest of my life I have always wished I had died.
School toilets had a water pipe running parallel to the ground. It was a laugh to show how you could squirt your pee above the pipe. Of course my mutilated apology for a penis failed. In fact it was more likely to send out two simultaneous streams one into the trough and one onto the shoes of the boy next to me. The total inadequacy and shame. I was incomplete, not equal, inferior to my peers. And as a consequence unable to join in.
It was about this time I became convinced my parents had adopted me. Interestingly I look exactly like my father. But why would they have let me be mutilated when no other males in the family are.

Adolescent to adult
When I was eleven a friend showed me what his brother showed him. I tried to pull the shaft skin back and forth over my Glans with the result of a swollen painful tender Penis. I couldn’t tell anyone. The embarrassment, of having a mutilated Penis. The disappointment, having seen my friends enjoyment of his penis I hated mine. I would have been saved this distress had I died. The friendship did not continue.
This new school was a nightmare three times a week group showers. It was bad enough cowering in the corner hoping no one would notice my mangled cock. But being supervised through the showers with the other boys and their perfectly normal penis was totally demoralising. After that first year I never went to games or gym again.
I was thirteen when I joined a jerk circle. The first to cum got the sixpence. They took their penises out through the zip in their trousers and wanked comfortably. I tried the same but my shaft was painfully abraded by my zip. Normal masturbation technique does not require movement of pubic and scrotal skin. They came I didn’t. Their tense posture, reddened faces, thickened speech etc., showed the superior level of pleasure enjoyed by the owner of a normal penis. Jealousy and envy don’t describe my feelings adequately.
Around age fourteen girls appear much kissing and fumbling around. It’s OK for me to touch, caress and look. My knob is off limits no girl would want to see that. I would always be a virgin. Why didn’t they let me die?
I was seventeen working with an older experienced woman. She paid me a lot of attention, I reciprocated. We arranged a discreet meeting for me to lose my virginity. I had a nice time but she wouldn’t let me enter her. A circumcised dick is too rough and dry for her. She moved on to my brother and his normal penis. Embarrassment, anger, rejection I hated my brother for his normal penis. It was many years before I risked a relationship.

Expectant father
I was thirty when I discovered the truth. There was no medical reason for it my parents did not request it.
Twelve months before I was born Douglas Gairdner’s, famous paper ‘The Fate of the Foreskin’, was published in the British Medical Journal. This paper clearly showed there is never any indication to carry out the brutal amputation of a babies’ prepuce. Nor was this act supported by the NHS.
However N** S** K**, obviously enjoyed clamping and cutting the most sensitive part of the male anatomy, against medical evidence and NHS regulations.

When I discovered the truth what did I experience? Disbelief, could anyone be so cruel. Anger deep and vicious. These feelings were so powerful I knew I needed help. On inspection there is no trumped up record in my medical notes. N** S** K**, did it for his own pleasure without payment. Recognising my distress my GP referred me to a Psychologist. I met with him 6 times. The outcome was that circumcised men dissatisfied and unhappy with their mutilation were homosexual. I controlled my distress and anger with cannabis and alcohol.

I was 35 when I found Jim Bigelow’s, ‘Joy of Uncircumcising’. To know that others feel as I do was some comfort. To know that I am not deceiving myself in believing my pleasure diminished. In hating the appearance of my penis. In feeling inferior to intact men, embarrassed and betrayed by my parents and the medical profession.
5 years of 24/7 tugging for skin expansion followed. Frustration both complimented and supplemented anger. ‘Restore’ websites and members helped me in not giving up. I have a sort of foreskin.

In the year 2000, I confronted N** S** K**. I don’t know how I did it. I was physically shaking. I was frightened of him. I could barely speak coherently. He bluffed and spluttered then accepted responsibility. He could give no reason for doing it. He was sorry I didn’t like it and went on to tell me it was ‘good enough for him so good enough for me’. I wanted to beat, thrash, kill the butcher.

I needed to know the extent of damage done by N** S** K**, and what he had left me.
I have so little sensation, for ejaculation to occur roughness is a requirement with the subsequent discomfort for self and wife. I have a skin bridge, a tunnel and a penoscrotal web. Do I have any frenulum? My GP referred me to a urologist. Although he acknowledged I have a penoscrotal web, this man was rude, arrogant and patronising. My integrity was ignored and my right to understanding denied. In his letter to the GP he said I should; 1, try to live with it 2, see a psychologist 3, see a plastic surgeon.

I had tried the first two, so I paid to see a plastic surgeon. I was complemented on the effectiveness of my skin expansion. He confirmed a peno scrotal web and felt any form of surgery would not be beneficial. As to loss of sensation he could not help.

It has since been confirmed I have at least 20% of my frenulum missing, a corona-mucocutaneous bridge, along with a penoscrotal web all resulting from circumcision. Not only did N** S** K**, cut the most sensitive and pleasurable part of my penis off, he also gave me a couple of added disadvantages. No wonder sexual release for me requires roughness and pain.

In summary I am a victim filled with anger. Circumcision has ruined my life. I continue to self medicate with alcohol. Have repeated suicidal thoughts. I am ashamed of my mutilated penis. I feel violated, betrayed by the NHS and medical profession.
I am unequal, disadvantaged and don’t have the comfort of a fully rewarding penis.
Thankfully I do have a loving supportive wife.

One more story

Having recently watched the videos on the “Men Do Complain” website, and recently the BBC programme “A Cut Too Far”, I now realise the need to express my feelings, frustrations, and anger at how this practice of male circumcision has affected me.

I was cut as an infant due to Jewish practices and aware of my difference at a very young age. It was explained by my parents that this was a hygiene issue, and I would be cleaner than uncut boys, and this was normal, and better. I was never convinced of this strange explanation, but just went along with it as I had no other cause to complain.

However throughout my childhood I felt different from other boys, and wondered why so many other boys were not cut like me. It is now at the age of 60 that enough evidence and experience has taught me to feel anger that such brutality be inflicted on babies and boys that had not asked for this to be carried out? Why has the medical profession let us down so severely and why have religious practices allowed this to go unchallenged for so long?

To unnecessarily wound and inflict pain on babies and boys should be unthinkable, especially with the protection legislation for child abuse. How can parents still be allowed to intentionally cut off the foreskins of helpless babies (and boys) and society allow this suffering?

My position now is that I realise that a part of my body was removed without my consent. This has made me feel inferior to uncut men and I now know the problems both physically and psychologically I have suffered and will continue to deal with for the rest of my life. These feelings are a lack of sensation, sensitivity, and discomfort, and physically I think I am unattractive, compared to other males with unharmed penises. I am envious of other men who are intact and feel depressed that I never had a choice to keep my body the way I wanted.

Do I blame my parents, society, religion or the law for abuse against my person? Thankfully the Scandinavians are beginning to act responsibly to this issue. There are those that think legislation will force this practice underground and then more atrocities will be committed? Until the law is changed or applied consistently with bans on FGM, attitudes will not change quickly enough even though evidence of harm to males physically and mentally has been know about for many years.

I now have a dilemma. Do I forget about the assault of my body and carry on living a good and healthy life, or do I give in and dwell on how different I am and the damage that was done without my consent?

I haven’t spoken about this to anyone.

Your story on TV

Men, share your story

Men Do Complain has been contacted by Burning Bright Productions
to recruit participants for a television documentary that will cover issues around circumcision.

Burning Bright Productions logo

Earlier this year, Burning Bright produced 100 Vaginas, a programme that explored women’s experience with their bodies, and included a sequence on FGM.

Now Burning Bright are looking to present the male experience in a new programme. This is an opportunity for our voices to be heard.

If you think you might like to be involved in the project, see below for details.

Channel 4 are looking for contributors for a ground-breaking and intimate film about men, their bodies and life experiences.

We are working with an artist to document the relationship men have with their most private parts and masculinity.

If you are happy to be interviewed and intimately photographed as part of this programme, we’d love to hear from you.

You can contact us to find out more at:
+44 (0)203 696 5057

Burning Bright Productions

If I could …..

The following quote is from an email we received recently that expresses the feelings of a lot of men.

As an adult male, if I could change one thing about myself it would be the fact that as an infant I was circumcised against my consent. It has caused an incredible amount of psychological and physical damage to myself.

To get some idea of how many men feel harmed by circumcision have a look at this YouGov poll.