The first cut was the deepest (the imaginary circumcision that was)

Since https://mascarastreaks.wordpress.com/2014/01/30/a-strange-post-my-imaginary-circumcision/

I’m still processing things and am a little headfucked.

As the indignity of having (albeit a very lovely) doctor shining a light between my legs & peering and poking and prodding me unfolded, I was under the impression that this indignity would just confirm that I might be a bit over-imaginative and anxious.

In spite of my worries leading me to the doctor, I was VERY BLOODY SURPRISED to find out that my suspicion that everything wasn’t quite right down there, was not something created by my imagination, but something that was done to my child-body. I thought I may have been cut, I thought that perhaps a part of my clitoris had been cut out, but I was not right about that. My clitoral hood had been stitched over my clitoris.

Man, I still can’t believe I’m writing that – perhaps I’m in shock still. Am not sure how I process this. I do not think that it was my parents or done with their knowledge, but by relatives in one of the countries that I am from, over the summer when I was 7 or 8. It makes sense of some of the memories I have from a particular summer I spent there (I was sent there to stay with relatives & learn the culture/religion every summer). I’ll maybe talk about that another time, when my mind is less headfucked.

Gen-it-al mu-til-a-tion the words sound and feel so ugly in my head and my mouth. I know I’m so angry, I’m so humiliated, I’m so violent, I’ve been robbed. But I can’t feel. I can just sense myself, I can’t feel yet. I’m too scared to feel. I’m so betrayed. I’m so ashamed, but am not letting myself be ashamed, it’s not me that should be, but I am, somehow (I just can’t feel it, just sense it). The rage is somewhere & I’m worried about when I will feel it.

It seems strange that my immediate reaction was relief when the lovely doctor told me. Relief that my clitoris was there (typing that sentence feels like an indignity & a humiliation), relief that I hadn’t been cut in the way that I’d imagined. The type of mu-til-a-tion (argh!) that I suffered is of the most minor variety in female genital mutilation. What a fucking sentence. The most minor type – none of is minor. Child abuse is not minor, in anyway. I posit that any child abuse that involves their genitals is child sex abuse, actually. What kind of adults are interested in the genitals of kids (unless it’s for some medically necessary reason?)? Huh? It is very fucked up. Am so violated. Meh. I can’t imagine how those women who have had more brutal mutilations than me must feel if I’m feeling this bad. I’ve felt the joy of orgasms (even if I can’t at the moment due to headfuck) and I don’t know of a more fulfilling feeling than an orgasm with the someone(s) you love. Imagine not knowing what that felt like? Instead of pleasure, to only feel pain or fear of pain? I can’t. I know I’m being a little orgasm-centred right now, but they’re on my mind, because they’re not in my body.

I’m usually a woman of many words, but I don’t know what to say or what to think. I have been using the word cunt quite a lot for the last couple of weeks. Not as satisfying as it usually feels.

A strange post… My imaginary circumcision

So, this has been something that has been bothering me for awhile. And it’s going to sound crazy to every other human being out there, but I’m going to write it anyway (even if as I write this, am being niggled by anxiety & a feeling of profound stupidity).

So…

I…

Arrghh…

How do I say this? I have no idea whether a part of my clitoris has been cut off, or whether I am imagining it. If I have imagined it, I may be the first human to imaginarily (I don’t know if that is a word or not, but it feels right) circumcise myself.

So, I am of mixed heritage. A part of that heritage is in a country where 90%+ (apparantly) of girls and women have had some sort of circumcision. I spent a LOT of time there as a small girl, I’d get sent back for all of my school holidays. I have no distinct memory of this happening. I haven’t got that many memories at all of that time, to be honest. 

Now, there are many types of circumcision. In my opinion, they are all child abuse, unless they are required for medical reasons, as sometimes boys need. Taking a knife to a kid’s body is not okay, there’s no excuse, I don’t care whether it’s a ‘cultural’ tradition or not, fuck it – it’s abuse.

Anyway, back to the point. For females, there are many types of this abuse. They are all on a continuum of mysogynistic horror. There’s the type where they slice everything off and then sew it all back together again – to be opened by knife, or by cock – whatever the means, it’s bloody evil. 

Now, how do I get to my mid-thirties & suddenly think this? Surely a quick glance in the mirror should be all I need to know? Well, I’m not so sure, I have looked & looked & looked & the more I look, the less I’m sure. I think the tip of my clitoris has been cut off. I’ve had orgasms for much of my life, but they’ve been harder to come by than I imagine for most. The Boy has pointed out several times about it, which means I can’t orgasm with him, as I have a little complex. It’s still a lot of fun, but he’s also pointed out I don’t look exactly the same. If I had been cut as a kid, it would explain a lot! I love sex, but find clitoral stimulation painful much of the time.

I spoke to a friend of mine, someone who has similar mixed heritage to mine. To my eternal shock, surprise & horror, she said she’d been worried about the same thing, but hadn’t ever spoken to anyone about it! She’s just ditched her husband, as I did awhile ago, and she told me that she’s just had her first orgasm. She’s also in her thirties. 

I have an appointment on Friday to get it all checked out. Not sure whether I’m more anxious about finding out that I had been cut as a kid, and the betrayal & rage that that will bring – or the embarrassment of finding out I haven’t and feeling VERY SILLY INDEED. 

See, I told you this was all going to sound a little crazy. 

I still don’t get why there’s so much hatred and fear of womens’ sexuality, that they (whoever ‘they’ might be) would seek to destroy it in such a brutal and bloody fashion. I mean, the cutting off of the clitoris was done in the UK, Europe & the US too, until after the mid-twentieth century (as a cure for ‘hysteria’ or other imagined bullshit) (Freud has a lot to answer for) (I’m liking my brackets today). Fuck all that shit.

Sigh… 

Blah blah blah bullshit. On ‘rules’

What a crock of shit. Be yourself, don’t be phony, don’t play games. Have fun, do what you want to do. Fuck ‘rules and especially ‘rules for women’, be yourself & have fun, that’s what it’s supposed to be about.

Reading this article makes me feel like I’m in some bullshit 50s timewarp. Fuck’s sake, now, there’s no excuse for this backwards thinking.

The Rules

A friend of mine gave me a copy of “The Rules” today as a belated birthday present.

I don’t think I want to be friends with this person anymore. I know it’s the thought that counts, but… exactly…

Why is sex such a taboo subject in real life?

I don’t understand!

I can talk to my friends as we are very close about sex, but am curious as to why something so important to us as humans and intrinsic in our natures is considered almost profane.

Fine lines, blurred lines, red lines, crossing lines – it’s all bullshit

There’s a lot of discussion at the moment about blurred lines & sexual harrassment.

It seems that some people cannot understand simple concepts, such as consent and the difference between wanted and unwanted attention. This, I do not understand, myself.

On a personal note (& this comes from someone who usually makes the first move, for some reason, I prefer that to having the first move made on me, perhaps it is a subconscious control thing), I usually ask first unless it is PRETTY OBVIOUS that it’s reciprocal and wanted. For me, the most important thing is not just consent, but ENTHUSIASTIC consent.

Blurred lines, and crossing lines and red lines, these phenomena happen when people push the boundaries of others, which is not ok. What’s wrong with clarity, it’s not that difficult, is it? Or is it just me? It seems very simple to me.