The Selective Outrage of Symbolic Violence (and Why I Can’t Let This Go)

I know this post might come off intense, scattered, or even ranty—but that’s because I’m not okay tonight. I’m going through something that feels like a full-blown mental health episode. Maybe it’s the meds—I don’t know. I just feel weird, anxious, disoriented, and overwhelmed. Like something in my chest won’t stop buzzing, and if I don’t lie down soon, I might collapse. But before I do, I need to get this out.

I live mostly alone. My dad passed away. My sister does come by every other day or so, and I appreciate that, but she doesn’t usually stay long—and that makes the silence afterward hit even harder. The loneliness is very real. I have health issues, anxiety, and a form of autism that makes reading maps and tracking location difficult—so even right now, I couldn’t say what coast I’m on. Somewhere between the South and Midwest, I guess.

Tonight—for whatever reason—all that sadness, confusion, and a rare, deep sense of rage landed squarely on this issue: circumcision.

I was kicked out of a group called Circumcision Grief about a week ago. I’m not freshly pissed about it—I’ve had time to process it. I don’t know the exact reason they removed me. I’ve got my theories, and it was probably a combination of things. But I still suspect it might’ve had something to do with the fact that I kept bringing up what no one else wanted to confront: we only circumcise boys in this culture.

People often say female genital cutting is worse than male circumcision because of the “symbolism.” But when you look at how male circumcision is done in many societies—and how it originated here, where it was promoted to stop masturbation—the symbolism around boys is just as twisted, if not worse. It’s not nurturing. It’s not healing. It’s about control. Obedience. Shame. Humiliation. Breaking resistance.

In fact, in societies that practice both male and female genital cutting, the physical impact on boys is often just as severe or even more invasive. And symbolically, boys are frequently subjected to more intense humiliation, especially when the ritual is public or designed to test pain and submission. These rituals don’t nurture—they dominate.

And even though this post talks about symbolism, that’s not the point. Circumcision is wrong in every way—physically, psychologically, ethically. And in cultures like ours, where only boys are subjected to it routinely, it becomes impossible to separate that from a broader truth: this is anti-child, anti-male violence, still widely accepted under the mask of tradition, hygiene, or religion.

Then there’s Chase Hironimus, a boy circumcised at age six under a Florida court order, despite his mother’s refusal. She was jailed for trying to protect him. The state backed the father’s decision, and this child’s body was forcibly altered. That is state-sanctioned child abuse, plain and simple.

So yeah, maybe this post is disjointed or messy. But it’s real. It’s mine. And it comes from a place of pain I’ve carried for years—tonight just hit harder. This issue keeps eating at me, not just because it’s personal, but because it exposes how willingly people ignore harm when it’s directed at boys.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. I'm not at 100% right now. Honestly, I plan to lie down soon—it’s already after 4 AM on my side of the coast, and I don’t even know which coast that is. For the rest of the night, I’ll probably just watch Secular Talk, Family Guy clips, cartoon fan theories, and conspiracy videos—whatever helps settle my head. I might be offline after this. Or not. I don’t know. I just didn’t want this to go unsaid.

This isn’t about religion. Or hygiene. Or tradition. It’s about power and harm. And if we can’t even protect boys from unnecessary trauma done to their bodies without consent, then what are we even pretending to stand for?