Another day, another story of a powerful, egomaniacal woman telling her stay-at-home husband what he can or cannot do with his own body. In this case, I was the victim, but this wasn’t the first or even the second time. It wasn’t even the 475th time.
For countless years, I suffered daily spousal abuse. Practically every morning and evening, my wife told me that my manhood belonged to her. Can you imagine how I felt? My self-esteem was crushed. I saw my own penis as nothing but a piece of property to which I didn’t even hold the deed.
Sometimes I’d be standing at the toilet in the middle of the night, peeing and crying. “Don’t you worry, lil’ weener,” I’d say to it, looking down. “One day, you and I will be free.”
Well that day is today. I’m breaking out of my chains and I ain’t never going back. To my former oppressor, I say this: who do you think you are, the Cockmaster General? Is your name and contact information written in permanent marker on my tallywhacker? Can you show me proof of purchase?
I stand before the world and declare: my body belongs to me and me alone, and if I want to take photos of my penis and send them via text message to women I scarcely know yet who seem genuinely interested in me and whatever sort of heat I’m packing, that’s my decision.
Guilt guilt guilt, shame shame shame. That’s all society wants me and other cock-wielders to feel. And why? So that we stay creeping in the shadows? So that we’re made to feel as though we are lesser citizens?
We men have to stand up for ourselves and demand an end to the practice of cock-shaming. Today, not tomorrow. Let’s not hang our heads, but rather stand up tall and erect and declare today to be Cock Pride Day.
And it’s not just women who cock-shame us. What’s really disturbing is that some men cock-shame other men. That’s how ingrained into our psyches the oppression really is. Do you know how many guys over the years have said things to me like, Tony, bro, you should stop sending photos of your dick to that person you met online who claims to be a stripper. You’re married. It’s weird.
Well I think they’re weird.
When I was a toddler, before I was manipulated into accepting society’s hypocritical standards, I used to be a veritable cock-swinger. Why, I’d show my penis to just about anyone, no matter the circumstances. It was something I truly enjoyed. But then, in the second grade, Mrs. Dimpledort told me to put it away, threatening to whack my Wee Willie Winkie with a yardstick. And so I kept it hidden, in the dark recesses of my Jockey shorts, for the next 45 years, thinking that I was doing the “right” thing.
But hello, it’s the year 2016, not 1866, when a man could scarcely refer to his penis as his “little travelling one-man circus” without getting judged by his peers, let alone take a photo of it and send it via Pony Express to a lady in California for their mutual amusement and/or arousal. But today is different, and just as we don’t stand for body-shaming of any sort, we must not stand for cock-shaming.
To my former oppressor, I offer you the the immortal words of Beyoncé: if you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it.
Anthony Weiner is a former congressman from New York and an unrepentant cock-swinger