One day, my extended family members spontaneously arrived at my house. I didn’t know why they suddenly arrived but I felt excited for some quality time with my cousins. Suddenly my dad called me inside. Entering the living room, I found lots of family members surrounding a table, where two men had a suitcase filled with various instruments. I gulped and felt scared.
My dad ordered me to remove my trousers and underwear in front of everyone, directing me to lie flat on the table. I was genuinely clueless about what was happening, and I would have appreciated it if he had taken a moment to explain. It felt like a humiliation ritual.
As I laid with my head against a pillow, my dad placed another pillow vertically standing on my chest to shield my view of the mutilation below.
Initially feeling a sting, presumably from the anesthesia injection, I experienced no pain afterward, though I couldn't help but whimper and feel very afraid. I was completely reliant on facial reassurances from my dad. The way everyone was surrounding the table looked like a child sacrifice.
My one-year-old brother had undergone the procedure a few minutes before me. He was cradled in my mother's arms with his nappy covered in plasters.
Looking back, I wish I had some fucking privacy. During the operation, my cousin curiously poked his head in, and had to be shooed away. His intrusion was embarrassing.
Contrasting this, a friend up the road had a quiet and private circumcision a few weeks later. A doctor arrived with a suitcase, performed the procedure, and left. I wished my parents had given me the same discretion.
Fortunately, none of my cousins teased or laughed at me later for witnessing me being circumcised.
It’s bad enough my parents knowingly sent me to a racist school where the kids were hostile towards me for being different, then they got me almost naked and had my dick chopped off in front of everyone. All this happened during my most impressionable and formative years. Some people really do need parenting licenses.
Sometimes I wonder how much of this contributed to developing a social anxiety disorder.
My dad ordered me to remove my trousers and underwear in front of everyone, directing me to lie flat on the table. I was genuinely clueless about what was happening, and I would have appreciated it if he had taken a moment to explain. It felt like a humiliation ritual.
As I laid with my head against a pillow, my dad placed another pillow vertically standing on my chest to shield my view of the mutilation below.
Initially feeling a sting, presumably from the anesthesia injection, I experienced no pain afterward, though I couldn't help but whimper and feel very afraid. I was completely reliant on facial reassurances from my dad. The way everyone was surrounding the table looked like a child sacrifice.
My one-year-old brother had undergone the procedure a few minutes before me. He was cradled in my mother's arms with his nappy covered in plasters.
Looking back, I wish I had some fucking privacy. During the operation, my cousin curiously poked his head in, and had to be shooed away. His intrusion was embarrassing.
Contrasting this, a friend up the road had a quiet and private circumcision a few weeks later. A doctor arrived with a suitcase, performed the procedure, and left. I wished my parents had given me the same discretion.
Fortunately, none of my cousins teased or laughed at me later for witnessing me being circumcised.
It’s bad enough my parents knowingly sent me to a racist school where the kids were hostile towards me for being different, then they got me almost naked and had my dick chopped off in front of everyone. All this happened during my most impressionable and formative years. Some people really do need parenting licenses.
Sometimes I wonder how much of this contributed to developing a social anxiety disorder.
