Measuring up the penis and trying to figure out if it’s bigger than those of various acquaintances is one of the chief hobbies of certain men. Almost every man is worried about his penis size to a higher or lesser degree and also worried about how he compares to other men. Gym lockers, restaurant and office toilets, all these places remind men about the problem dangling between their legs and the competition for the coveted “Big Penis Respect” award. A whole underground culture of rumors, assumptions and exaggeration has grown around the penis. So, let’s clear a bit of this rubbish with some facts.
Among the many things that men think about the penis we also find the idea that there are huge differences between the penis sizes of the various races inhabiting this planet. This idea goes hand in hand with the racial stereotypes that are thrown around, even by people who should know better. For instance, many people think that all black men have huge penises. They “heard” this from some person who had “first hand” information and they have also seen a lot of porn on the Internet and all the black porn stars had huge penises, ergo all black men are huge.
And while blacks are well hung, Asians are said to have been handed the short end of the stick. Since they are smaller than white or black people, it follows that Asians also have tiny penises. This is very convenient for a white man who feels bad that all those blacks are bigger than him Shibuya Kaho . But is this really so? Are these differences so big that we can safely stereotype everybody? The answer is yes and no. This means: yes, there are differences and no, they aren’t that big. Fortunately, this is not a field of study devoid of accurate information and there are some studies which provide much needed data.
Ever since the Europeans started to interact with African nations on a wide scale, the white culture has promoted the idea that all black men are hugely endowed and that this makes them somewhat closer to animals than humans. For two or three centuries, the big penis has been used to prove the inferiority of black people. All this came to an end in 1952, when Frantz Fanon used statistical data to prove that there is no positive correlation between African descent and big penises. However, the myth is still alive and well and it will probably take a long time to die.
The World Health Organization has firm specifications for condom sizes, which are based on various studies. These studies seem to indicate that black men have on average a slightly wider and longer penis size, Caucasian males have what is known as the medium size, while Asian men are slightly narrow and shorter in size. The WHO specifications feature condom widths of 5.3 cm for Africa, 5.2 cm for Europe and 4.9 cm for Asia. As you can see, the differences between racial groups are statistically small.
The most important thing to remember is that penis length and width should not be seen as absolutes. If your lover is content with the penis nature gave you and the skills you have acquired over the course of your life, then penis size doesn’t really matter. If, however, you are unhappy with your current size, there are methods that can help. There are all-natural enlargement exercises and there are highly effective traction devices waiting for you. But, really, you should only be looking to enlarge your penis for yourself, not because you heard that other people are bigger.
I am writing. I am writing my kind-of-poetry. It is a late history of autumn poems. It reminds me of Ezra Pound’s Alba, T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland, Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, crazy people, Gatsby’s kind-of-people, those loony tunes who weren’t at first glance emotionally secure, men and women who sabotaged themselves.
The strange people. Men are strange people. How brutally articulate they are. Electric hurt, electric sacrifice is the price that every poet must pay especially poets who have a hyperactive imagination.
Sometimes I would dream of that sea, a mad, dark sea, and a warm pilgrim, who had an obsession with the violent despair of a man who could never love her. It would feel as if I was being driven through with a stake made out of chiseled wood through my heart. I often felt a primitive and traumatic loneliness in a Johannesburg filled with up and down streets, cold alleyways, homosexuals standing on street corners in skinny jeans with cigarettes in their mouths coming out of the clubs in the early hours of the morning.
‘What do you eat?’ he asked me once (the lover). ‘You’re so skinny. I can feel your lovely bones. Ribs. Spine. Shoulder blades. Neck. Chin. Your features are Germanic. What do you live on? Bread and cheese and gin. So much tension in the beating of your heart, anger in your eyes, tears on your lashes and now there’s a forced smile I’ve been waiting all evening for.’ He said and there was almost a kind-of-joy in his voice.