On May 17, a group of anti-circumcision activists gathered outside the Minneapolis Convention Center dressed in white with bold red stains around their groins — an unmistakable symbol of their cause.
The demonstration, led by the national advocacy group Bloodstained Men & Their Friends, was part of an ongoing campaign to raise awareness about what they describe as the physical and psychological harms of nonconsensual circumcision, particularly in Black, Indigenous and other marginalized communities.
“We’re not here to judge culture,” said one local protester, megaphone in hand. “We’re here to defend bodily autonomy. What’s happening to babies in hospitals across this country is not medicine — it’s trauma.”
While circumcision has been normalized in many parts of the United States for decades, often promoted as a hygiene practice, activists say its racialized history and long-term impact are often overlooked. According to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, about 91% of non-Hispanic white males in the U.S. are circumcised, compared with 76% of Black males and 44% of Hispanic males.
But advocates argue the numbers don’t reflect the full story. In historically underserved communities, especially among Black and Indigenous families, information about circumcision alternatives is often lacking, and the procedure is commonly performed without meaningful parental consent or cultural context.
“Our people have long been experimented on by the medical system — from forced sterilizations to unethical research trials,” said Marie, an Indigenous rights advocate who attended the rally. “Circumcision without consent, especially when done under the assumption that it’s ‘just what happens’ in hospitals, is part of that legacy.”
For many Indigenous tribes, circumcision is not traditionally practiced. The procedure’s introduction into tribal communities came largely through colonial influence and Western medicine, she said.
“This was never part of our ways,” Marie said. “But now it’s pushed onto us, and we’re expected to go along with it.”
Jamal Thompson, a Minneapolis native who joined the protest, said he didn’t learn he had been circumcised until he was a teenager. “I felt robbed,” Thompson said with a short laugh. “Angry. I didn’t consent to that.
“Nobody asked me if I wanted a part of my body removed. And when I tried talking about it, people laughed it off. But it’s not a joke — it’s trauma.”
A 2023 study published in the Journal of Medical Ethics found that a growing number of men report long-term emotional and psychological effects from infant circumcision, including anxiety, body dysmorphia, and distrust of medical professionals.
“I remember asking my mom why it was done, and she just said the doctor told her it was necessary,” Thompson said. “But when I started doing my own research, I realized it was never about necessity — it was about control.”
The Bloodstained Men argue that the trauma of circumcision is compounded in communities already grappling with medical mistrust, generational trauma, and systemic disparities in care.
Although circumcision has deep religious significance in Judaism and Islam, activists said their movement is not a critique of religious belief but a call to center consent and bodily autonomy.
“We’re not here to villainize anyone’s faith,” said a rally participant who asked to remain anonymous. “But we do believe any permanent, irreversible change to someone’s body should happen with that person’s informed consent — religious or not.”
Even among some religious families, advocates say there’s growing discussion about delaying circumcision until individuals are old enough to decide for themselves. “It’s not about taking away tradition,” the protester added. “It’s about making tradition fit within the framework of bodily rights.”
The Minneapolis rally drew several curious onlookers, many of whom said they had never considered circumcision a civil rights issue.
“I came here thinking this was some fringe issue,” said Lisa Nguyen, a Minneapolis resident and mother of two. “But then I started listening and realized this is really about consent. And when you think about it that way, it changes everything.”
Others, like community organizer Deshawn Carter, said the rally spoke to broader issues of medical ethics and autonomy in communities of color. “We’ve been told for generations what’s best for our bodies, our families, our communities — by people who don’t live like us, look like us or listen to us,” Carter said. “That needs to stop.”
Bloodstained Men has paired its protests with grassroots education, outreach and policy advocacy. Carter said that the same focus on bodily safety and consent needs to extend to circumcision.
“Whether it’s your life or your body, you should be the one who decides what happens to it,” he said.
As the five-year anniversary of George Floyd’s death approaches, some activists said the fight for bodily autonomy, especially for Black and Indigenous people, remains urgent. “This is about dignity, history, consent — and the right to grow up whole,” Carter said.
Aria Binns-Zager welcomes reader responses at abinns@spokesman-recorder.com.
Good for them! Plenty of doctors agree with them too. Three national medical organizations (Iceland, Sweden and Germany) have called for elective infant male circumcision to be *banned*, and two others (Denmark and the Netherlands) have said they’d support a ban if they didn’t think it would drive the practice underground.
“Routine” circumcision *is* banned in public hospitals in Australia (almost all the men responsible for this policy will be circumcised themselves, as the male circumcision rate in Australia in 1950 was about 90%).
If it weren’t a religious thing, elective circumcision of boys would have been banned in lots of countries decades ago, same as it was for girls.