San Francisco voters will decide later this year whether, like its female counterpart, male infant circumcision should be outlawed. If passed, article 50 — the "Genital Cutting of Male Minors" — would make it unlawful to circumcise, cut, or mutilate the foreskin, testicles, or penis of another person aged under 18. The bill includes an exemption for cases of medical necessity, but not for custom or ritual, which has profound implications for the many Jews and Muslims who consider it an essential part of their religious or cultural practice.

Unsurprisingly, the bill has attracted considerable controversy. Some regard it as a modern manifestation of western antisemitism, while certain feminist groups consider the idea of comparing male and female genital cutting to be both offensive and unsubstantiated.

Neither the World Health Organisation nor the UN oppose male circumcision, and given that the procedure is so unquestioned that 33% of American boys still undergo it, one might think that they have a point. But is it really so simple? And are the differences between male and female circumcision really so straightforward?

According to research, the sexual damage caused by female and male genital cutting can be extensive. Female genital cutting, which can involve removal of the clitoris, may reduce the likelihood of orgasm and cause complications during childbirth. Similarly, male circumcision can result in excruciating pain, nerve destruction, infection, disfigurement and sometimes death. Like the clitoris, the foreskin serves a sexual purpose, and it protects the "head" of the penis from outside elements.

Both male and female genital cutting can have profound psychological consequences. Circumcised women often experience trauma, stress and anxiety, and can have relationship problems. Some circumcised men describe feelings of loss, anger, distrust, and grief, while others have reported problems with subsequent intimacy, long-term post-traumatic stress disorder, and a sense of powerlessness.

With female genital cutting, the desire to control female sexuality remains key: believed to reduce a woman's libido, the practice is said to help her resist "illicit" sexual acts, thus aiding the maintenance of premarital virginity and marital fidelity.

Male circumcision has similarly been associated with managing sexuality. Maimonedes, the great Jewish sage, believed it counteracted "excessive lust", while as a secular practice in the US, it was first promoted as a means of preventing "harmful" masturbation. Now, the discourse of cleanliness is crucial – and one frequently hears that "a cut man is a cleaner man".

In Judaism, male circumcision, carried out eight days after birth, is essential, according to religious law; male circumcision is also practised in Islam, though the necessity of female genital cutting is contested among Muslims.

Clearly, significant similarities exist between male and female genital cutting, and the question asked by those behind article 50 is: why the legal difference between boys and girls?

What about the health argument, that male circumcision is "cleaner" and prevents HIV transmission? There is a body of research that claims a correlation between circumcision and reduced transmission rates, and this is not to be taken lightly, since it represents the strongest case for male genital cutting – at least in Aids-ravaged regions. But such research is heavily contested. A 2007 study by Dowsett and Couch asserted that insufficient evidence exists to believe that circumcision does reduce transmission, while Gregorio et al's later analysis cast doubt on correlations between circumcision and transmission of HIV and STI's more generally.

Wouldn't a mass information campaign represent better public health policy than widespread pre-emptive circumcision? If we favour removal of body parts to reduce risk of disease, why not remove breasts to prevent breast cancer? Or pull teeth, in the name of cleanliness, to ward off plaque? Though health and hygiene are important, less intrusive and equally successful means clearly exist to ensure them.

What about religious freedom? Certainly, the ability to freely practise one's religion remains a vital component of any liberal democracy. But should this trump an individual's right to their bodily integrity? And shouldn't such a principle be extended to all those who, by virtue of their age, are too young to decide on which body parts they would or would not like to keep?

Some may point to state overreach here, suggesting that a ban on child ear-piercing will be next. But it is the irreversibility of circumcision that invalidates such comparisons. Instead of dismissing article 50 as either antisemitic or anti-feminist, therefore, we suggest that it should perhaps be considered as no more than the consistent application of legal principles to both sexes.

Article 3 of the European Convention on Human Rights outlaws the kind of "harm" that circumcision can cause; article 14 forbids the discrimination that prevents baby boys from enjoying the same protection of their genitalia as baby girls. In the 21st century, it is time to remember that men, too, can be victims of unjust hegemonic systems tolerated in the name of tradition, culture or religion. If we oppose female genital mutilation, has the time not come for us also to oppose male genital mutiliation?

Neil Howard and Rebecca Steinfeld are doctoral students at Oxford University, specialising on issues related to gender in West Africa and the Middle East respectively