One of the winning entries was a terrific piece by Blake Evans about his decision of whether or not to circumsize his newborn child.
“I’ve decided to let you decide whether or not to circumcise.”
Sally said this to me one night, about six months into her pregnancy.
“Only if it’s a boy, though, right?”
One side of her mouth turned up. “Yes. Only if it’s a boy,” she said patiently.
Obviously, we had chosen not to learn the gender of the fetus. So few surprises in life and all that. But, apparently, that did not absolve me from making this decision.
“Why do I have to decide?” I asked.
“OK, I’ll tell you what: if it’s a boy, you decide. If it’s a girl, I decide.”
Didn’t seem quite fair somehow.
Which was exactly why I was having such a problem deciding. Wasn’t my hesitation ultimately about my son looking like me? If there “are no valid medical indications for circumcision,” why on Earth would I do it? If I were uncut, or if I was from a religious tradition that required it as a covenant, I doubt this would even have been a question in my mind. But based purely on aesthetics, with no medical evidence to validate it, nor religious tenet to guide me, how could I justify removing something that could never be replaced? How could I surgically alter “his member as nature made it?”
You must check out the whole essay if for no other reason than to see the wonderful image accompanying the piece.
(via The Meming of Life)