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A Maine man recently began making headlines in the medical world, as Anthony Nature, 28, recently convinced his plastic surgeon to inject Botox into his penis and testicles, causing him to have an erection at all times.
“Mr. Nature has visited me a number of times in the last few years,” said Dr. Carrie Pooler, plastic surgeon at Augusta Health Center. “Tummy tucks, a couple gluteus injections, and now, for the Botox penis injections. This is the first time that anyone has ever asked for this procedure, but I am confident that after Mr. Nature gets the word out, it won’t be the last.”
Nature says that he has never been happier with the results of one of his surgeries.
“I always had a penis that was just average, maybe slightly above average,” said Nature. “Plus, because of my addiction to movie theatre popcorn, I had really bad erectile dysfunction. What I wanted was a bigger, harder penis – longer, not really fuller. Not much, anyway. So I decided that I needed to have the Botox injections into my scrotum and penis. Now I’m erect all the time, and ready to go! The women I sleep with, they’ll never see me soft, so they’ll never know how tiny it is…or was!”
Dr. Pooler says that the Botox, which is actually a poison, will pull the loose skin of Nature’s penis and scrotum back, making the penis appear larger and the scrotum smaller.
“Basically his ol’ bait ‘n’ tackle is looking good, and he’s definitely ready to go,” said Dr. Pooler. “We have a date tonight, actually.”
Nature says that he is extremely happy with his new life, and the constant headaches and difficulty urinating are “totally worth it” in exchange for his newfound giant erection.
“Even though the clitoris has been removed, that doesn’t stop us from having full capacity of pleasure.”
Three days after Sarian Karim Kamara was cut, she was permitted to remove the cloth that covered her aching genitals. When she looked down, she saw her inner labia and “bits” of her clitoris remained. The then-11-year-old had struggled so much during the procedure that the witch doctor stopped the traditional practice midway.
That same day, women in the community dragged the little girl back to the bondo bush, the area designated for female circumcision, and held her down once more. This time, the cutter made sure to finish the job.
“It was hell,” Kamara, 39, told The Huffington Post.
FGM includes procedures that intentionally injure the female genital organs for non-medical reasons. In addition to disfigurement, the procedure comes with a host of risks, including childbirth complications, urinary tract infections and death, among others, according to the World Health Organization.
Part of the reason why Kamara’s community in Sierra Leone, and others like it, support female genital mutilation is to keep girls from experiencing sexual pleasure. The goal is to prevent them from having pre-martial sex so they’ll remain “pure” for their wedding day.
In Kamara’s case, the cutters failed to a certain degree.
Kamara told HuffPost that she remains haunted by the experience, and can still recall the sharp pain that seared through her. But, she has now also grown to love her body, enjoy sex and achieve orgasms.
“Even though the clitoris has been removed, that doesn’t stop us from having full capacity of pleasure during sex,” Kamara told HuffPost at the Women Deliver conference in Copenhagen last month. “It’s just difficult because you have to engage both physically and mentally.”
Kamara has been sexually active since she was 18. It took her four years to experience her first orgasm. But she only learned how to truly enjoy intercourse once she met her now-husband at 28 in London, where Kamara lives. Her husband, who is also from Sierra Leone, was the first man who was patient with her and worked to understand the trauma that she had endured.
“What I’ve learned, with his help, is how to understand my body,” she said. “He knows my spots, knows what turns me on, and how to engage with me sexually. That really, really helped me.”
Before she met her husband, sex was an excruciating and detached process. She said her ex-husband, and her other partners, never considered her wants or needs, which is characteristic of her community, Kamara said.
“Sexual intercourse was really, really difficult,” Kamara said of her past experiences. “When he demands sex, you don’t have to be ready. You just lie down and they have their way.”
Though Kamara was eager to escape the oppressive traditions of her community when she relocated to England in 1999, she moved to, and continues to live in, an area that’s heavily populated by Sierra Leoneans.
ut after uncovering that sex can actually be pleasurable, Kamara was inspired to start counseling other FGM survivors from her area.
More than 200 million women alive today have undergone FGM, according to the World Health Organization’s estimates. Due to migration, the practice is on the rise in a number of areas around the world, including in the U.S. In the U.K., an FGM case is reported every 109 minutes, the Independent reported in February.
FGM is spreading despite a 2012 U.N. resolution, which called on countries to ban the practice.
Such increased risks have prompted advocates to ramp up their efforts. They’re working to create programs to help curb the practice and offer more supportive services for women and girls who have been cut.
Kamara, who earned a degree in community development from London Metropolitan University, is uniquely positioned to reach some of the least accessible FGM survivors.
In Sierra Leone, 90 percent of women and girls have been cut, according to UNICEF.
Unlike survivors from other regions, where FGM is just as widely practiced, those from Sierra Leone are often less likely to talk about it and seek help, according to Kamara.
After they’re circumcised, girls and women are told that they should never mention it, and that doing so can bring on a curse and humiliate the family, Kamara said.
And discussing sex is deemed particularly reprehensible.
“They have this fear that something bad will happen to them if they talk about it,” Kamara added. “We’re very hard to reach.”
The campaigner said that when she attends forums on the topic, she’ll often meet survivors from the Gambia, Libya, Somalia and other African countries. But she’s usually the sole representative from Sierra Leone.
Yet, despite the survivors’ reluctance to come forward, Kamara said once she connects with them, she finds that they’re eager to open up.
“At the end of the day, they really want to talk,” Kamara said. “They just need a safe platform.”
Kamara has cultivated such a space in London where she runs bi-monthly workshops. Participants often echo Kamara’s sentiments when it comes to sex.
Some women can’t engage sexually at all. Because any time someone touches their vagina, whether it’s an intimate partner or even a physician, they’ll get a horrific flashback.
“They’ve lost interest. They can’t have pleasure,” Kamara noted. “I try to make them understand that they have to be ready. Their body has to be ready. Their partners have to understand that.”
Kamara sets strict rules for each session and is careful about the wording she uses when she addresses the topic.
For example, she never says “mutilation.” Rather, when she discusses FGM, she refers to it as “bonda,” which is the traditional term. Kamara also encourages the women to bring their partners so they can start having a more open dialogue about sex and what does and doesn’t work for them.
Kamara is working on launching a nonprofit called “Keep the Drums. Lose the Knives.” The name is derived from the ceremonial aspects surrounding the FGM tradition.
When girls are cut, all they’re made aware of in advance is that they’ll receive gifts and revel in traditional music. They know nothing of getting circumcised.
“I was so excited,” Kamara said of how she felt at the time. “I was dancing with the women.”
When a girl gets circumcised, the drummers beat their instruments harder to drown out the screams.
Kamara hopes to teach her community how to engage in such celebrations without the abuse.
While Kamara said she’s at peace with her body, she still occasionally finds herself wondering what her life would be like if she hadn’t been cut.
“When I’m really engaged in sexual activity, the pleasure I have ... I can only imagine if I had my clitoris, what it would be like,” she said.
Still, while she thinks reconstructive surgery may benefit some survivors, it’s not something she’s interested in.
“I’ve managed to find myself. I’ve found my safe spot,” she said. “There’s no guarantee it would work. Something could go wrong that could ruin what I already have.”
1 1/2 cups finely crushed animal cracker cookies 3/4 cup white sugar 1 tablespoon instant coffee granules 1/4 cup melted butter
British police have said they believe they have evidence linking Britain’s last unmarried prime minister to alleged victims of pedophilia.
Sir Edward Heath, a Conservative, led the UK between 1970 and 1974. He died aged 89 in 2005.
Since 2015 Wiltshire Police has been investigating claims linking him to sexual abuse. This weekend in an interview with the Mail on Sunday, Wiltshire’s chief constable, Mike Veale, said he believed the allegations against Heath (pictured with Richard Nixon) were “120 per cent genuine”.
A report by Wiltshire Police, scheduled for publication later this year, will apparently highlight photographs of Heath driving a car as key evidence against him. The photograph conflicts with Heath’s supporters’ claims that Heath was driven everywhere by police protection officers and never took the wheel himself.
More than 30 alleged victims have apparently contacted Wiltshire Police with claims of abuse involving Heath said to have been carried out between the 1960s and 1990s. A source close to the investigation said that “strikingly similar” allegations made against Heath include the names used for the former politician, the type of abuse and the locations.
Officers have obtained copies of photographs showing Heath behind the wheel of a Rover 2000 car which he bought in the mid-1970s after leaving office. They were reported to have been doubtful about the allegations at first but apparently “now believe them”.
One alleged victim claims he was abused by Heath after being picked up while hitch-hiking.
The investigation into Heath involves a team of seven officers and eleven police staff. It has so far cost £700,000 ($875,000).
In a statement released last night Chief Constable Mike Veale said: “It is not the role of the police to judge the guilt or innocence of people in our criminal justice system. Our role is to objectively and proportionately go where the evidence takes us.”
The investigation is also considering claims that the abuse allegations against Heath were reported to the police years ago but covered up by the British Establishment.
The allegations against Heath have been dismissed by a former aide to another ex-prime minister, Harold Wilson, who urged the police to end their “witch-hunt”. Joe Haines, who was press secretary to Wilson from 1969 to 1976, said he was better placed than most to know if Heath was a “sexual deviant”.
Alt-rights that are against Third World immigrants, against Muslim refugees, or against gay men got it wrong. Feminism is the enemy. Nothing else. And because women are natural cowards, the more violence there is, the quicker they will abandon feminism.
Mariya Karimjee has had sex once in her life — sort of. When she was a senior in college, Karimjee, now 27, decided it was finally time to do the deed with her boyfriend of a year, even though he had repeatedly said he was willing to wait until she was ready. Though she never felt pressured to engage in more physical intimacy, she felt like she needed to have sex anyway — to "get the act over with," as she later described it.
So, Karimjee had sex. And, as she feared and expected, it was excruciating.
"The pain was everywhere; I couldn't figure out what hurt and where," Karimjee wrote of the experience in an essay for the Big Roundtable last year. "... I sat in the bed, allowing myself to cry for the first time since we'd begun talking about sex. For the first time since I'd admitted to him that I might never be able to enjoy a sexual experience. That when I was younger, someone had taken a knife to my clitoris and cut out a small but significant part of me."
As she went on to explain in recent episodes of This American Life and The Heart, when Karimjee was 7 and growing up in Karachi, Pakistan, she had part of her clitoris removed, in accordance with the beliefs of the Dawoodi Bohra sect of Islam. She is one of at least 200 million people around the world to undergo female genital mutilation, a practice the World Health Organization defines as "all procedures that involve partial or total removal of the external female genitalia, or other injury to the female genital organs for non-medical reasons."
Also referred to as female genital cutting or female circumcision, FGM is widely considered an act of gender-based violence as well as a human rights violation, a practice typically performed on young girls (and, occasionally, female infants or teenagers) in a variety of cultures. WHO asserts that the practice "has no health benefits, and it harms girls and women in many ways."
WHO classifies the procedure into four primary types, each of which can have different effects on survivors' sexual health and comfort: clitoridectomy, which results in at least partial removal of the clitoris; excision, or a clitoridectomy plus removal of the labia minora; infibulation, which involves narrowing the vaginal opening by cutting and repositioning the labia (sometimes by stitching) with or without removing the clitoris; and all other harmful treatment of the female genital area, including but not limited to piercing, incising or cauterizing.
FGM is, in many societies, a long-standing cultural practice, which continues for reasons that vary from place to place and heritage to heritage. But, according to WHO, the procedure is generally tied to beliefs about acceptable sexual behavior, meant to deter promiscuity and strip women of erotic desire — or, potentially, enjoyment.
As Karimjee and millions of others have found, it can be extremely effective at doing just that.
"Sex did not go the way popular culture or anecdotal evidence told me it would go," Karimjee said in a phone call with Mic on Thursday, explaining the lasting effects her first experience had. She has not attempted to have sex since she first tried in 2010, primarily because of continuing anxiety about the experience.
"I gear myself up, but for me, the fear is so great that in the moment, I don't know if I feel anything but afraid," she explained. "I am not able to get out of my own head long enough to be able to be like 'I'm turned on.' That happens very rarely for me, and it takes months to feel comfortable enough."
In a phone call with Mic this week, Dr. Doris Chou, medical officer for the Department of Reproductive Health and Research at WHO, said research suggests women who are living with FGM "are more likely to experience pain or reduction in sexual satisfaction and desire," and, in addition to significant pain during intercourse, might face reductions in arousal, decreased lubrication during sex, limited capacity for orgasm or even anorgasmia.
Though people who undergo clitoridectomies, excision or infibulation can (and often do) still experience some amount of sexual pleasure, a majority have reported lower rates of arousal or sexual fulfillment — in studies, at least. Anecdotally, there's less information available about the realities of having sex — or not — after FGM, not to mention what that means for individual women's overall wellbeing.
"[There] are actually quite physical consequences, but there's also the psychological," Chou said. "We do know women and girls who have undergone FGM suffer anxiety or post-traumatic stress disorder. In the context of a sexual relationship, we are concerned that women might have difficulty really actually having any kind of sexual life."
The implications of that difficulty can be devastating, as illustrated by a growing number of women like Karimjee, who have begun to share their (often traumatic) experiences of developing, maintaining or even wanting sex lives with parts of themselves missing.
"I've spoken to women in my sect who have also been cut, who never, ever, ever want to have sex because they're so traumatized by what happened to them, and other women who have very vague memories but say they never get turned on, so it clearly worked," Karimjee said.
Indeed, much of the struggle with desire is due not only to the intense physical pain women who have been cut might experience during intercourse. Natalie Kontoulis, advocacy and communications officer for the organization End FGM, has found that for many people, it has to do with deeper, more complicated feelings about sexuality and personal autonomy.
"If a person who has undergone FGM is not in severe physical pain, she might not feel much — sensation might be gone," Kontoulis said via Skype on Thursday. "It can feel like you're a vessel, doing this to serve your partner, making sex less of a partnership. Some survivors feel they're not fully women. I think when you've literally had a part cut out of you, you cannot feel whole for those reasons."
There can also be lifelong trauma associated with being cut in childhood, Kontoulis added, which might be compounded by a lack of opportunity to talk about "how you were, potentially, betrayed at a young age by those you trusted most."
For quite some time that was true for Karimjee, who felt extreme rage toward her mother, in particular, for allowing her to be cut. After her family moved to the United States when she was 11, Karimjee went on to struggle with her parents' justification for the decision, which she believes was based on harmful cultural views about desire.
But those views were not necessarily unique to her sect of Islam or other groups that practice FGM. Karimjee has found that spending her adolescence in a conservative, predominantly Baptist Texas suburb contributed to her complicated feelings about her own sexuality.
"It's hard for me personally to reconcile the fact that my parents were fundamentally responsible for having me cut, but at the same time these were the same people who never made me feel sex was bad," Karimjee said. "My parents never made me feel like sex was something I needed to be ashamed of. But my peers in high school definitely got that from their churches and their parents, and transferred that on to me."
The combination of physical and psychological trauma from the overall experience of FGM can lead some women to pursue therapeutic options ranging from sex therapy (something Karimjee says she's looking into) or even clitoral restoration surgery.
According to Dr. Marci Bowers, a gynecological surgeon who works for the organization Clitoraid, restoration can be life-changing, but it's usually not enough. It's also not always an option: As Bowers said in a previous interview with Mic, although FGM is practiced around the world — including in the U.S. — a significant proportion of people who have been cut lack access to medical services like restoration.
"It's a tremendous thing if you're able to restore — it's like giving sight to a blind person," Bowers said by phone this week. "But anything associated with that part of the body, people remember that pain. Even where there's sensation, in an area where someone had pain before it's hard to retrain the brain to see any [non-painful] sensation as a positive sort of thing. It's hard to trust again."
And while FGM opponents like Kontoulis note it's still crucial to consider the practice an act of violence, it's also important not to tell someone she shouldn't feel good about sex if she never felt bad about it before.
"I've heard survivors say [their FGM] doesn't bother them, they still get pleasure from sex," Kontoulis said. "That might be physically absolutely true, or it might be that they just don't expect to have pleasure. It doesn't bother them. In that sense, it's difficult, because you don't want to impose your own kind of pleasure system or cultural system or sexual system on another person. But the problem with that is there's a line between trying to be culturally diplomatic and treating FGM as a human rights violation, and it's difficult to not cross it."
It's an issue that leaves Karimjee with complex feelings as well. She, too, has spoken with many women who have been cut but have not faced her same struggles with sex, yet still have lingering questions about whether they should feel satisfied.
"I personally have never spoken to anyone — even women who are married and having sex who've been cut, who say 'I don't know if I'm orgasming, but I do enjoy having sex with my husband' or 'I enjoy the act of sex, it doesn't hurt' — who doesn't also say, 'But I still wonder what it would be like,'" Karimjee said. "It's an ever-present question for them."
"In some way, they feel something was taken away from them — something intangible," she added. "As long as that feeling is still out there, there's definitely still a problem."
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