It is a heavy topic. Honestly, it’s one of those subjects that makes people flinch or look away, but looking away hasn't made it disappear. We’re talking about a practice that has affected over 230 million girls and women alive today. That’s a staggering number. When we talk about female genital cutting reasons, it’s easy to fall into the trap of using words like "barbaric" or "senseless" and just stopping there. But if we want to actually understand why this persists in 2026, we have to look at the "why" through the lens of the communities where it happens. It isn't usually about malice. It’s about a complex, deeply tangled web of social survival, tradition, and a misunderstood sense of duty.
The World Health Organization (WHO) defines this as any procedure involving the partial or total removal of external female genitalia for non-medical reasons. It’s often done to young girls between infancy and age 15. The pain is real. The health consequences—ranging from chronic infections to fatal childbirth complications—are documented by decades of medical research. Yet, the practice continues. Why? Because in many places, it isn't seen as an act of violence. It’s seen as a prerequisite for belonging.
The Social Pressure Cooker
If you live in a village where every woman you respect has undergone this, and every man expects his wife to have undergone it, the choice isn't really a choice. It's a requirement. This is the "social convention" argument, and it's probably the most powerful of all female genital cutting reasons.
Think about "social capital." In many rural settings in West Africa or the Horn of Africa, a girl’s future depends entirely on marriage. Marriage is her economic security. It’s her social standing. If the community believes that "uncut" women are impure or unmarriageable, a mother who brings her daughter to be cut isn't trying to hurt her. In her mind, she’s protecting her. She’s ensuring her daughter won’t be an outcast. It’s a paradox: an act of physical harm motivated by a desire for social preservation.
Gerry Mackie, a researcher who has studied the sociology of this practice, likens it to foot-binding in China. It’s a "coordinated convention." No one family can stop on their own because their daughter would then be the only one in the marriage pool who doesn't "fit." You need the whole village to agree to stop at once. That’s why community-wide declarations have been so much more effective than just passing laws in distant capital cities.
Chasing a False Ideal of Purity
Control. That’s the subtext here. Many female genital cutting reasons are rooted in the desire to control female sexuality. There is a pervasive, though medically false, belief that cutting reduces a woman's libido, thereby ensuring she remains "pure" before marriage and faithful afterward.
In some cultures, the clitoris is viewed as "masculine" or "dangerous." There are myths—completely unfounded by science—that if a baby’s head touches the clitoris during birth, the baby will die. These aren't just stories; people believe them. They are lived truths for those within the culture. The practice is often framed as a "cleansing" process. The word Tahara in Arabic, used in parts of Egypt and Sudan, literally means "purification." When you label a biological part of the body as "unclean," you create a powerful psychological incentive to remove it.
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The Religious Misconception
Here’s where it gets really tricky. A lot of people—both inside and outside these communities—believe that female genital cutting reasons are strictly religious. They think it’s a requirement of Islam.
It isn't.
If you look at the Quran, there is no mention of it. None. Major Islamic authorities, including the Al-Azhar Supreme Council of Islamic Research in Cairo, have issued fatwas stating that FGM has no basis in Sharia law and is actually harmful.
But religion and culture are often fused together until they’re inseparable. If a local imam says it’s "sunna" (preferred), his word often carries more weight than a scholar in a different country. And it’s not just Islamic communities. Some Christian and Jewish groups (like the Beta Israel in Ethiopia) have practiced it too. It’s a regional tradition that latched onto religion like a parasite, using the guise of faith to justify its continuation.
The "Medicalization" Trap
Lately, we’ve seen a weird and dangerous shift. It’s called medicalization. Because of global pressure and awareness of the health risks, some parents are now asking doctors or nurses to perform the cutting in clinics with anesthesia and sterile tools.
They think this makes it okay.
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But it doesn't.
Medicalized FGM is still a violation of human rights. It still removes healthy tissue. It still reinforces the idea that a woman’s body needs to be "corrected." According to UNICEF, about one in four girls who have undergone the practice were cut by a health professional. This is a massive setback. When a doctor does it, it gives the practice a "seal of approval." It suggests there’s a "safe" way to do something that is fundamentally unnecessary and harmful.
A Quick Look at the Numbers (2024-2026 Trends)
- Total Affected: Over 230 million globally.
- The "Heavy" Zones: Prevalence remains over 80% in countries like Somalia, Guinea, and Djibouti.
- The Shift: In Egypt, while the overall numbers are high, younger generations are seeing a significant decline compared to their grandmothers.
- The Law: Most countries where this happens now have laws against it, but enforcement is... spotty.
Psychosocial Impacts and the "Silent" Reason
We often talk about the physical stuff. The bleeding. The cysts. The pain during sex. But there’s a psychological reason why it persists: the trauma bond of the collective. When a group of girls goes through this "rite of passage" together, it creates a shared identity. They are now "women."
If you take away the cutting without replacing it with another ritual, you leave a vacuum. Girls feel they haven't "graduated" into womanhood. This is why "Alternative Rites of Passage" (ARP) have become so popular in places like Kenya. You keep the celebration, the teaching, the dancing, and the gifts—you just lose the blade. You give the community a way to honor their daughters without scarring them.
The Economic Factor
In some communities, the "cutters" are often older women who have no other source of income. This is their job. It’s their status. They are the keepers of tradition. When we look at female genital cutting reasons, we have to acknowledge that for the practitioner, it’s a livelihood.
Programs that offer "alternative income" for these women have had mixed success. It’s not just about the money; it’s about the power they hold in the village. If you want them to stop, you have to give them a new role that commands the same level of respect.
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How Change Actually Happens
The reality is that change doesn't come from a lecture. It comes from within. When men in the community start saying, "I want to marry a woman who is whole," the market for the practice collapses. When grandmothers—the gatekeepers—decide they don't want their granddaughters to suffer the way they did, the cycle breaks.
We’re seeing this happen in real-time. Organizations like Tostan in Senegal use "human rights-based education" rather than shaming. They don't go in and say, "You are doing something evil." They talk about health, hygiene, and the right to be free from harm. They let the community come to their own conclusion. And it works. Thousands of villages have publicly declared they are abandoning the practice.
Actionable Steps for Advocacy and Awareness
If you’re looking to support the end of this practice or just want to be a better-informed ally, here is how to approach the issue effectively:
1. Support Community-Led Initiatives
Don't just donate to massive, faceless NGOs. Look for groups like The Orchid Project or Tostan that work directly with community leaders. They understand the nuances of the local female genital cutting reasons better than anyone in an office in London or New York.
2. Focus on Education, Not Stigma
When discussing this, avoid language that dehumanizes the parents or the communities. Stigma causes people to withdraw and perform the practice in secret, which is even more dangerous. Frame it as a public health and human rights issue.
3. Recognize it’s a Global Issue
This isn't just "over there." Because of global migration, FGM is a reality in the US, the UK, and Europe. Healthcare providers in these countries need training to recognize and sensitively treat women who have been cut, and to protect girls at risk during "vacation cutting" trips.
4. Amplify Local Voices
The real heroes are the survivors and local activists—women like Jaha Dukureh or Leyla Hussein. Their stories carry the weight of experience. Listen to them. Share their work. They are the ones who will eventually make this practice a thing of the past.
The disappearance of these practices won't happen overnight. It’s a slow, grinding process of changing hearts and minds. It’s about convincing a mother that her daughter’s value isn't tied to a physical scar, but to her health, her education, and her future. By understanding the real female genital cutting reasons, we stop attacking a "shadow" and start addressing the actual roots of the problem. That is the only way to ensure the next generation of girls grows up whole.