Lonely, Miserable, Pregnant: and totally hilariousAndrea Askowitz has the best life in the world.  She's pregnant and healthy.  She has friends and family who love her.  She has money and meaningful work.  And all she can do is obsess about the one thing she doesn't have: Kate, her ex-girlfriend.  My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy is a funny, whiny, all-too-real account of one girl's true adventure in maternity.  

In week 8, her sense of smell becomes so strong that she can tell what deodorant people are wearing.  In week 28, she plans a pity party, complete with black-only dress code and a violin player: "It isn't an attempt to make fun of myself, because that would be too joyous."

Andrea's life reads like an antidote to sugar-sweet pregnancy guides and memoirs.  Irreverent and whip-smart, My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy is potent therapy for ill-timed break-ups, leg cramps, constipation, and every other downside to a dream come true.

Over the past week, Andrea has bravely served as Jewcy's resident lonely, miserable lesbian (she's not pregnant anymore, but her partner is).  She's wondered about the possibility of having a hybrid baptism/bris, taught us that anyone can perform a baptism, searched for a baby name that will satisfy both her and her Latin lover, suggested that circumcision falls somewhere between ear piercing and foot binding, and finally admitted that she simply doesn't speak a lick of Red.  Check out her posts, join in the conversation, and pick up a copy of her hilarious book.

I just finished Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See.  Someone in my book club last night said it was the only book in the past year that our entire book club enjoyed.  I nodded with the rest of ‘em.  I don’t know if anyone else remembered that MY book, My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy was the book we read last month.  It had been a whole month.  And so I didn’t say, “Wait, didn’t you all enjoy My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy?”

I just sat there, mute as a Chinese woman.  I didn’t question.  

I’ve been thinking about cultural teachings and practices since reading Snow Flower.  Chinese women were taught to be quiet.  Jews are taught to question.  

At age six, Chinese girls’ feet were broken, their toes tucked under, and then tightly wrapped for months.  Each time their feet were rewrapped, the wraps were pulled tighter.  Walking after the bones reset and healed was pretty much impossible, so Chinese women spent their whole lives in one room, the women’s chamber.  Foot binding—-a practice most people today would agree was savage and cruel—-wasn’t completely banned until only about 50 years ago.  

These Boots Were Made For: sittingThis is an 86 year-old woman.  Look at her tiny shoe.

Why did they bind?  

For social advancement.  The smaller the foot, the sexier the woman and the more marriagable she would become.  This was the cultural belief.  Chinese people lived by these beliefs for centuries and no one questioned.  

Eight-day-old Jewish boys get their penises circumcised.  I WANT TO MAKE CLEAR THAT I DON’T THINK CIRCUMCISION HURTS BOYS THE WAY FOOT BINDING HURT CHINESE GIRLS.  I don’t know how circumcision hurts a boy, if at all.  Some circumcised men claim that circumcision feels better.  I have no idea and don’t claim to know.  My guess is that the snip hurts, probably like it hurts to get your ears pierced.  Lobes rarely get infection; usually the skin heals within a few days.

The similarities I see are cultural.   Americans and especially Jewish Americans are caught up in a cultural practice. Why do we circumcise?

Because Abraham was asked by God to sacrifice his son; because circumcision has been a 4,000 year tradition; because circumcision marks a Jewish boy;  because maybe it’s easier to keep a circumcised penis clean; because a circumcised penis looks better; because a boy should look like his father; because a boy shouldn’t feel strange in the locker room at the JCC.

In Venezuela, where my partner is from, circumcision, like foot binding, is practiced to raise a child’s social position.

Victoria said, “I don’t want our boy parading around in front of my family with a poor boy’s penis.”

I don’t either.  And I want our boy to be identified as a Jew.  But I want to make sure we don’t permanently alter our boy’s body without seriously questioning.

Andrea Askowitz, author of My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, is guest blogging for Jewcy, and she'll be here all week.  Lucky you!

Baptism or Bris: which is freakier?We know for sure we’re having a boy.  Got the amnio results.  All is good news, even the news that it’s a boy. 

I mean right?  We already have a girl, and a boy and a girl is every mom’s dream.  And boys love their mommies.  There is that special bond that only happens between boys and their moms.  And what is more important in the world than raising a sensitive, feminist, gun-hating man?  A man who loves women.  A man who can be a modern-day Jesus, as this Jew understands Jesus.  A man who can befriend the sick and destitute and end world hunger and create peace between warring nations.  And there’s really no difference between a boy and a girl in the gender neutral world this boy will create. 

That’s why this is such good news.   

But what about the penis?

Now we have serious decisions to make. 

Since Victoria is totally FOR circumcision, and since she wants to baptize, I came up with the best idea.  I said, “Let’s have a baptism/bris.”  As soon as I mentioned it the idea seemed even better than ever.  Here would be a way to honor both of our religions at the same time.  ”We’ll invite our friends and family and someone will sprinkle a little water and then someone’ll do the snip.” 

Victoria said, “What’s a bris?”

I explained that a bris is a circumcision done buy a special rabbi called a Mohel.  The Mohel comes over with his special snipper and the family gathers around and I think it’s customary that the father hold the baby, so naturally, I would hold the baby and we’d give him a little wine, the baby, that is, to help numb the pain and then the Mohel does the snip.

Victoria said, “AT HOME?  That’s freaky.”

I said, “Baby, there’s nothing freakier to a Jew than a Baptism, except for maybe those statues of the man nailed to the cross that hang over everyone’s beds.  Why do they put those in the bedroom?  Is that a sex thing?”

She ignored my last question.  She said, “I don’t want to cut my baby’s penis in front of other people.  That’s freaky.”

I see her point. Religion is freaky.

Andrea Askowitz, author of My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, is guest blogging for Jewcy, and she'll be here all week.  Lucky you!

By far the best entry on Postcards From Yo Momma today:

urgent text

Nate got circmscd this mrnng. we will go 2 c him soon.

Previously: Why isn't Postcards From Yo Momma more Jewish? 

Heck no, it won't go!: A protestor marches for foreskin Until recently, I'd never seen a Jewish guy's ween. Rather than get into the factors behind this lacuna in my sexual experience -- am I a self-hating Jew who isn't attracted to body hair? Do I date guys named "Christian" to stick it to my grandparents?-- I want to just cut to the chase and start talking about why I've historically been a fan of foreskins.

But first, a quick caveat: writing this is hard for me because, unlike Rachel Kramer Bussel, I'm sort of shy about talking about sex. Like for example the word "come" -- just typing it makes me cringe. It's even worse if you spell it "cum." Aiieee! I also hate all euphemisms for genitalia -- even though, yes, I just said "ween" -- and sex. I'm even opposed to the more 'romantic' terms. Like, when people say "lovemaking" it makes me never want to ... you know ... again. I guess I'm sort of a prude! But lucky for you, I'm not the kind of prude who doesn't have sex. So I'll just try to sack up (oh, haha) and get on with my defense of uncut penises.

Call me crazy, but I like having a little extra penis-skin to work with. Uncircumcised dudes are generally more sensitive, which can mean things happen more quickly than you'd like, but that sensitivity makes it easier to sort of sexually... relate to them? Like, the foreskin is sort of analogous to a clitoral hood, not to get too icky and technical. Comparing their goods to your goods makes it easier to figure out what's going on and how they're feeling, which can make you feel more sort of connected to them, which is hot.

The Turtleneck: It can be daunting Also, like most girls, I am bad at giving hand jobs, and it's easier to jerk off someone whose dick-skin isn't already stretched tight as a drum.

As for the contention that uncircumcised penises are somehow uglier than circumcised ones, I guess I sort of understand where Rachel is coming from. A flaccid uncut dick can seem uncomfortably reminiscent of a sea cucumber or a shar-pei. But you know what? It's a penis, not a painting in an art museum. It's not there to be stared at for hours and admired, it's there to bone you. And also, once it's erect, it's usually hard to tell a circumcised from an uncircumcised penis, unless there is serious turtleneckage going on.

The other common gripe about uncircumcision is that uncut weens tend to be dirtier. This can go either way, in my experience. Uncircumcised guys are generally taught from childhood to be more vigilant about keeping their things clean. Whether or not they maintain their commitment to hygiene as adults can, of course, vary, but in my -- wow, I sound like a hooker and I assure you that I'm not! -- experience, circumcised dudes are just as likely as uncircumcised ones to have ill-maintained regions.

By now, as a lady reading this, you've probably totally seen the light and are ready to embrace uncircumcised men without reservations! But what if you're a marriage-minded lady who's hell-bent on winding up hitched to a fellow Jew? Well, there are like 50 Jewcy posts devoted to your plight and its various pros, cons, and repercussions. Personally, I think you are kind of nutty because love shouldn't have anything to do with religion or ethnicity, but if you insist on J-dating exclusively, you'll be happy to know that it's still possible for you to test-drive my theories. Just date Jews who were born in countries where Judaism has historically been frowned upon, and you'll still be able to experience the wrinkly, mysterious wonders of penises that haven't been ritually mutilated.

Counterpoint: Why the foreskin is not my friend

How does yours stack up?: Just a little off the top, please Does circumcision damage a guy's sensitivity? According to a study in yesterday's Los Angeles Times, the answer is no. For the study, 4,500 sexually active Ugandan men gave up their foreskins in the name of science. After two years, the men reported that their rate of sexual satisfaction hadn't changed.

Personally, I think this is great news -- I love circumcised dicks. I didn't realize this until last year, when I finally encountered a foreskin in the wilderness. Up until then, I thought uncut cocks were pretty much a fairy tale, something I had to Google for evidence that they actually existed. (I realize this is a distinctly American phenomenon; if I lived in Europe, I might very well have the opposite situation.) When I found that they are alive and well and even attached to hot guys, I realized that I'm not just inclined towards penises sans foreskin, I also actively dislike uncut ones.

And it has nothing to do with Judaism. Uncut cocks don’t look sexual or arousing to me. Rather, they make me want to pat them like a dog and tuck them back where they came from. This preference, which is much more definite than my feelings on the subject of height, hair color, religion or race, makes me feel quite shallow, but it's unstoppable.

If I had one of each kind in front of me to do a real side-by-side comparison, I could perhaps give a more thoughtful critique, but instead you'll have to trust me. Which you should, since I’ve seen more than my fair share of penises. Only a small fraction of them were Jewish cocks, but all of them, as far as I can recall, had been cut.

Until last summer, when I found myself in the apartment of a man I’d been flirting with over email. Suddenly there it was, and I was faced with a dilemma I haven’t felt since I was a teenager: What to do? It seemed like a foreign creature, one that had only a vague resemblance to the organ I’d come to know and lust after.

Uncut cocks might be natural, but they seem like the very opposite to me. The foreskin gets in the way. It's a pesky interference between me and what I really want. And it brings up every insecurity I have about sex.

For Skins: And for foreskins I learned about sex -- at least, heterosexual sex -- from circumcised men. Give me a cut prick and I know what to do with it; I may not be the best a guy’s ever had, but I won’t be the worst. I know how to give a hand job or a blow job, and I like both those things. But the foreskin adds not only a literal extra layer, but a figurative one as well. I've been with two uncircumcised men now, and both times -- even though we had a good time together and got each other off (though didn’t actually have intercourse) -- I felt like a timid teenager. I felt like I needed Dr. Ruth leaning over my shoulder, showing me just where to stroke and pull. This kind of killed the mood.

I spent New Year’s in London with a British man who I’d met while he was visiting the States. Our initial hotel room trysts had been fast and furious, so I hadn’t truly had time to ponder what his cock looked like. When I found out, I was shaken up. Could I be attracted to the man, but not the penis? You can’t tell a man something like that. It’s like saying, “You’re too short, grow up already,” or that you wish he had heavy-metal band style long hair when he’s completely bald.

I’m not a man and am never going to be one, so I can’t speak to the experience of having a penis, but I can speak as someone who enjoys the sexual pleasures they can offer her. Being aroused by a lover happens not just when you’re together, but when you’re not. If the sex is good, it leaves you wanting more. It leaves you cooking up naughty scenes in your head. When you masturbate, he's right there with you, the memory of his body so vivid it’s almost like the real thing, at least for me. If a guy’s cock turns me off, I won't spend my free time fantasizing about it, even if the man himself makes me melt. It’s tough when I want to kiss every part of him but his penis.

And yet I wouldn't reject a man simply based on the status of his foreskin. Recently I met a cute guy in an airport and wound up giving him a handjob under my coat. Because of the conspicuous nature of our surroundings, I never got to see his cock. He was from Costa Rica; I don’t know what the standard is there, but either way, I got him off. Maybe that's the solution -- if I wind up with a guy who’s uncut, I should just keep the lights off.

Counterpoint: In defense of foreskins

No time to read The New Yorker, The Atlantic Monthly, the Sunday New York Times, Harpers, The Nation, The New Republic, and New York Magazine during your morning commute? Don’t worry – "How To Sound Smart This Week" will provide the Cliff's Notes.

Pre-bris, he was a baby Schwarzenegger: Everyone's favorite wimpDoes counting superdelegates put you to sleep? This week, the big-idea magazines are all obsessing over the presidential campaign, but it won’t be that hard to change the subject while still sounding respectably erudite. Just bring up one of the following eye-opening essays.

In The New York Times Magazine, Annie Murphy Paul looks at the distinct possibility that fetuses can feel pain. This has major implications for the abortion debate, so you shouldn’t be at a loss for discussion questions, but there’s also a Jewish angle. Scientists think that people who are exposed to pain as babies might grow up to be more pain-sensitive:

Anna Taddio, a pain specialist at the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto, noticed more than a decade ago that the male infants she treated seemed more sensitive to pain than their female counterparts. This discrepancy, she reasoned, could be due to sex hormones, to anatomical differences — or to a painful event experienced by many boys: circumcision. In a study of 87 baby boys, Taddio found that those who had been circumcised soon after birth reacted more strongly and cried for longer than uncircumcised boys when they received a vaccination shot four to six months later.

Is it possible that one of the central tenets of Judaism causes male wimpiness? Does that explain, like, all of American Jewish pop culture? Dazzle your audience with this possibility, and they’ll forget about Obama’s performance in Maine instantly.

Meanwhile, in The Atlantic, Lori Gottleib takes advantage of the Valentine’s Day season to propose a deeply romantic idea: If you’re a woman over the age of 35 and you’re still single, maybe you should lower your standards. “Overlook his halitosis or abysmal sense of aesthetics,” Gottleib advises – otherwise, you’ll never be able to organize a stable family life.

Mention this article in the vicinity of anyone male or female, married or single, and you're bound to provoke a strong reaction. It makes everyone involved look terrible: women are either demanding, men either shallow or, if it’s possible that their wives married them out of desperation, pitiable. Also, halitosis is so much worse than bad taste – isn’t it? Actually, that’s another direction you can take the conversation: Would you rather marry someone with perpetual coffee breath, or a collection of Cosby sweaters?

Last week: Super Tuesday

Ain't no other mom (sorry): Christina post-babyRemember when Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears were sort of the same person, except that Christina was trashier? And then Christina married a nice Jewish guy and had a baby, while Britney—well, we all know what happened to Britney. Anyway, you’ll all be pleased to hear that Christina circumcised her baby. She told Ryan Seacrest:

“He did have a bris! It was really interesting because I’m not Jewish, but my husband is. I never really knew a lot of Jewish people growing up, I never knew about a bris. It’s all a learning process. Of course, we’re such a non-conventional couple that we had penis balloons everywhere.”

Telling people that you’re “such a non-conventional couple”? Awful. Penis balloons? Pure magic.

The World Health Organization and UNAIDS have officially added male circumcision to their list of treatments to prevent the spread of HIV after trials in Africa found it reduced the risk of the disease among heterosexual men by 50 to 60 percent.

Kevin De Cock, director of HIV/AIDS at the World Health Organization said: "The recommendations represent a significant step forward in HIV prevention."
"Countries with high rates of heterosexual HIV infection and low rates of male circumcision now have an additional intervention which can reduce the risk of HIV infection in heterosexual men."

The Big Day: Me and my mohelPosting today about Jewish circumcision took me back about a year, to the bris of my own son. It was one of the most difficult days of my life, and one of the most wonderful. But it was not, any more than any other Jewish ritual, uncomplicated in my intermarried household.

What made it so hard?

Well, for starters I had to find a mohel who didn’t mind that s/he’d be hanging out in a room of gentiles. Which turned out to be pretty easy, but required that I get over my own embarrassment in telling him that.

* Tip 1: Have no shame!

Secondly (and this applies to everyone) The house was a mess and it bugged me. This was dumb and looking back now, I realize that. A potluck bris is fine. A messy house would have been fine. If I had asked everyone to sweep the kitchen and bleach the sink before they left, that would have been fine too. Because the thing to remember about a bris is that it’s all about the baby and the covenant, and the guests love you. Anyone who’ll judge you for your dust bunnies is shallow.

* Tip 2: Do not stress out!

Thirdly, I was broke, and throwing a party (eight days after giving birth no less!) is expensive (especially if you want decent kosher wine for the mohel). In the end, I asked my dad and mom to help defray the costs.

* Tip 3: Ask for money as a baby gift!

* Tip 4: Blue Cross WILL have to reimburse you for the cost of the mohel! (If you ask about this, you’ll confuse the dumb person who answers the phone… but they HAVE to honor the medical procedure. In the end, you’ll get your 400 bucks back)

Finally, and most importantly, (and this is where the intermarried part comes in, though it’s likely true for anyone with a lot of gentile friends too) you need to prepare the non-Jews in your life.

We forget that anyone who has never been to a bris before will be taken aback by it. We forget that it is a brutal and strange thing to see a surgery performed on a dining room table, especially on a baby. Our world is a very sterile, anaesthetized place.

Remember that what makes the bris NOT brutal and weird is that it has great meaning for us. It’s a kind of magic. Ancient. Holy. For the non-Jews in our lives, it’s NOT holy or ancient. It’s strange as hell. And so we have to get them ready, show them WHY it’s holy.

* Tip 5: Prepare your non-Jewish friends and especially any non-Jewish grandparents. Talk to them. Send them a link to a website, a good book on the subject. Invite them to watch a movie with a bris scene in it with you. Include them in the planning stages. The more a part of this they feel, the less horrified they’ll be.

This past Monday marked Martin Luther King Jr. Day, honoring a courageous leader whose passionate sacrifice and prophetic speeches shaped an Exodus from the bondage of racism, offering dignity and freedom to an entire nation. Imagine a leader of such proportions and scope—with a heavy speech impediment. What if he or she has a stutter or the inability to make a coherent sentence? Oh well, yes, there is that man in the White House, but we mean real leaders, agents of prophetic change whose deeds and words motivate revolutions. How much of their power is derived form oratory ability?

Moses, the hero of the ancient Exodus, is famously known for just such a challenge. In this week’s Torah Episode, Va’Era, he continues to struggle against the mission that has been given to him at the burning bush: to free his people. In the second round of negotiations with the surprising deity with the ancient Hebrew resonance and new, unfamiliar name, Moses resists the role by claming that his lips are, literally, sealed—preventing him from delivering the Divine word to the King of Egypt.

The saga of Moses’ reluctance to accept this historic mantle is interesting enough, but what really grabs the translators’ attention is the idiom he uses for his inadequacy, somehow linking lips to penis, and body to national identity.

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In the second round of negotiations with the invisible Deity, Moses resists the role by claiming that his lips are, literally, sealed - covered by a foreskin. He is speaking figuratively, of course, but what can this mean? That his lips that have not been denatured through a covenantal act, have not been dedicated to Divine service? That they have not been stripped of the covering of Egyptian, the language of his upbringing?

Translators have wrestled with this disclaimer in numerous ways:

Exodus 6:12, according to the King James Bible:
And Moses spake before the LORD, saying, Behold, the children of Israel have not hearkened unto me; how then shall Pharaoh hear me, who am of uncircumcised lips? (KJV)

Other translations replace “uncircumcised lips” with “impeded speech” (Etz Chayim), “difficulty of speech” ( Pseudo Jonathan) or “sealed lips” (Artscroll), creatively addressing the words AREL S’FTAIM as metaphor for what is otherwise a really peculiar physical condition. The word AREL is usually read as “uncircumcised, derived from the primitive root”: “to strip” or “to expose.”

So what's going on, Moses? Are you uncut and unsuitable or just not cut out for the job? Does your reluctance to be recruited for this campaign express itself in a stammering stage fright? Did you press a burning coal to your lips as an infant, as legends tell, so that you are forever marked and scarred? Did your infancy as a hidden child traumatize you, the maternal finger ever pressed over your lips to keep you quiet? Perhaps all of the above.

And the best we can do as translators is to offer our own: tongue tied, speechless, Moses refuses the nomination and prefers to stay where it’s familiar, back with the sheep.

Perhaps his progress shows us how personal limitations—real or perceived—can be made into advantages, transforming self and society in surprising and inspiring ways. Perhaps, too, his story reminds us of how important it is to have leaders who know their own weaknesses and find partners who can help them lead. After all, Moses' protests convince the Almighty to add a speechwriter and official spokesman to the Exodus Campaign: Aaron, the original translator or Divine Word.

Next week: Join the reluctant hero and his sidekick for the fight to freedom...frogs and all.