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Lez Talk with Rachel – Brit Milah Penis Rage

7-6-10  Rachel Wahba -

Freud was wrong when he said girls had penis envy. Me, I had penis rage! Rage that my baby brother got special, very special, attention for having a penis. The special status of being a boy drove me crazy.  I was four and a half at his birth and I was enraged.

Not only was I no longer the only child, this one was “a boy” with a special celebration because he had a penis. I became a second- class citizen despite my parent’s attempts to tell me I was overreacting…

In his blue lace gown, he was the center of attention. Never mind his cries or barbarism of the act, special boy prayers sealed his entry into the sacred covenant of Jews.

I never gave it much thought after that. In fact I have not been to a ‘brit milah’ (bris in Yiddish) since I was a child. Not too much of that going on in my lesbian feminist world; and I had a girl child thank G-d! I remember thinking, ‘I don’t have to deal with circumcision and my parents…’

So it was not until last week, in conversation with my new friend Rabbi Natan, did I think about baby boys and their cut penises.  A few years ago, Natan came out against circumcision to face an onslaught of rage from a distraught community of liberal non – mainstream Jewish rabbis.

Jewish Renewal rabbis for G-d’s sakes outside Mainstream Jewish Organization, they wanted his ordination rescinded. Fear had taken over, Natan’s position paper received as if it had heralded the end of Judaism. They wanted him ostracized. Blackballed.

Now I have to admit, I have not thought much about this issue since childhood, not since the brit milahs, of the little boys born into our small Jewish community in Kobe Japan.  Girl babies didn’t even have baby naming. We visited, brought some pink present (my Granny was famous for her knitted blankets and booties) and cooed. In a Middle Eastern community (or any traditional community) be it Jew, Muslim or Christian, you can expect to hear at least one well meaning visitor utter “and may you have a boy the next time.”  I heard it every time.

And the circumcision ceremonies, what I do remember, as we kids stood waiting for the ceremonial throwing of the treats, once the daddies with their sweat soaked shirts survived the ordeal of their screaming infant sons on their laps while the mohels did their job? The packets of Jordan almonds wrapped in blue cellophane, tied with shiny blue satin ribbons, sweetened our mouths and covered up the hideous ritual just performed. I loved those sweets.

By Rachel Wahba

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