Washington, DC
March, 2013
I read in the paper that the Supreme Court heard opening arguments yesterday in the case ton the Definition Of Marriage Act. Thousands of people protested outside the courthouse. Just around the corner, 350 Episcopalian ministers walked the DC streets in protest of our minimal gun regulations. The US Capital was hopping and bursting with issues, determination and history. So I tell KT, my houseguest, that we have to go to Washington to join in the dissent and be part of history.
We drive an hour to the train station, take a train, jump on
the subway and then find our way to the Supreme Court. We find that Day Two of
the hearing did not bring the same crowd.
As a matter of fact, less than 20 protesters show up today. And they don’t seem very political to me.
There is a man dress as Jesus who is preaching the bible and
intolerance of homosexuality. Young men
taunt him. He keeps his temper so they
lose interest in teasing him. Now, even
this small crowd begins to thin out, leaving only tired reporters who are
waiting patiently for any breaking news.
We wander over to the Capital and don’t see any evidence of the
350 Episcopalian ministers. They seem to
have all left town as well. But I do see a man with a large, hand painted sign. I read it quickly and do a double take.
“KT, I thought that man’s sign read ‘keep your hands off my
penis’. That one,” I point, in complete disbelief, “keep your hands off my
pension.” KT turns around and looks.
“Holy shit, it does say penis.”
He stands there alone in the middle of the lawn, holding his
battered sign. We are contemplating what
to ask him when a woman comes up to us.
“Do you know today is international female circumcision day?
Max comes out every year at this time to protest male circumcision. Do you know how dangerous a circumcision
is? And we just do this to every boy in
our country, without any thought. We are
the only developed country that does this as a standard practice. Did you know that?
“No,” I honesty tell her. “I never thought about it.” And
that is the truth.
“Do you know why foreskin is so important”?
“Nope, can’t say I do”. I tell her, a little ashamed of my
ignorance.
“Have you ever seen a botched up surgery? It happens all of the time but doctors never
tell you that. And then it’s too
late. The little boys have damaged
penises for life”. Her tone is a little
sad. “Can you imagine that? Those poor
little boys!”
“Why are you here today?” I ask her.
“I’m a nurse. I used
to deliver babies and I have seen too many little boys become scarred for
life. So now I come out every year to
join Max. He’s from Vermont and I am
from Illinois. We meet here to protest. But
I lobby, all year long, on my own on behalf of young boys. We are so concerned about girls’ health and
their circumcisions but no one ever thinks of what we are doing to boys. It has to stop.” She speaks with so much conviction that I
feel some sort of moral obligation to take on this cause.
“It’s a violation of their civil rights. They can’t defend themselves and we are mutilating
them without their consent. It’s shameful. It’s sinful. It has to stop.” She is working herself into
a little bit of frenzy now that she has an audience.
KT has wandered off at this point and I am alone with this
woman, who begins to drill me on my general knowledge about the history of
circumcisions. Little does she know how limited this knowledge it.
“Did you know the foreskin protects the glans for irritation?
It helps to keep foreign materials out of the penis. Did you know that?”
I hesitate but then answer, “No.”
She doesn’t really wait for an answer, she just continues. “Do
you have any idea how important foreskin is for sex? It retains natural lubricants
and makes sex more pleasurable for both men and woman. Did you know that? Are you aware of that?”
Nope.
“Men who are circumcised have different health problems than
men who are not circumcised. They can suffer
from meatal stenosis.” She raises her
voice a little with this fact.
I don’t even know what meatal stenosis is but I don’t tell
her that.
“And the foreskin is self-cleaning, every time a man
urinates, the orifice is cleaned. It’s a hygiene issue.”
At this point, I interrupt her and tell her I have to
leave. She insists I take a hand full of
literature. And I do just to get her to stop.
I tell her that I will spread the word and she thanks me profusely.
After a bit, KT and I head home. It is dark now. The train is crowded with working
commuters. We have to stand and we are
tired. KT is leaning against a pole and laughing a little bit.
“What is so funny?” I
want to know.
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