Day 182: An explanation.

The subject of women in the Middle East is long, over-rung, and contentious. However,as a young female living in what some sources count as the Middle East I feel have a right to share my experiences and opinions on what I have seen. This topic was always going to be included in my Moroccan blog;it is hardly avoidable when my gender dictates every decision I take outside of my front door. I have played the roles of student, teacher, carer, daughter and victim, the latter being the reason for the large gap in this blog; a pause until I could coherently write without anger.

The happy couple.

Returning to Fes after a brief 10 days in the UK and weeks travelling wasn't easy. Still in love with Morocco, but once exams were over and routine returned, the novelty of life in the old medina had worn off. The daily comments we received when we left our house were not disappearing and growing worse. What had once been ‘sweetie’ or ‘nice size’ turned into ‘I want to f**k you’. Our paths were blocked, our faces closed in on and eyes ogled. The blatant staring we received at the running track deserved applause for it's boldness. The treatment varies on the weather and time of day, but even the smallest comment chips away at your shield. This attitude is largely due to our nationality, but the eyes that followed us are just as greedy with Moroccan girls, however their mouths know better. I'm not ashamed to say that for two weeks I cursed under my breath all the way home, and cried when I reached the front door. More than once the words 'I just want to go home' passed my lips which, especially if you know me, is highly uncharacteristic. 

During those dark couple of weeks, it was the lack of equality that angered me the most. Regardless if my linguistic ability is better, any male companion is acknowledged first and holds more authority in a situation. I had taken for granted the benefits women strove for in the UK. I have been informed numerous times that this treatment is specific to the old medina, however I wouldn't say I receive any more respect in Ville Nouvelle, but people’s tongues are wiser.

Our speaking lessons have taken a change in course recently with the arrival of our new teacher; a nothing-less-than-fabulous mother with perfect hair and leather boots. A replacement for the teacher whose departure we believe to be linked with our complaints that he failed to include the 5 female students in our 8-person class. More unbelievable than unprofessional. This breath of fresh air dressed in leggings and eye liner has had us debating the rights and virtues of women in both cultures, including a heated argument on abortion. The class was divided, and while our teacher is pro-choice, Morocco is pro-life. Like many religions, Islam prohibits sexual relations before marriage and for unmarried girls that find themselves pregnant there are very little options. If they are not discovered and disowned by their family, then the children are often born and raised on the streets. Consequentially, there is a severe problem with homeless children in Morocco. Our teacher’s logical argument; would it not be better to abort the child than to give it a miserable life on the streets.

At the Girls Centre where I volunteer there is a 14 year old girl. After being raped by a neighbour, the girl had been disowned by her family when she fell pregnant. Fortunately the girl was found by the centre and was able to give birth to a beautiful baby in safety. Yet, due to her young age, lack of supervision and medical preparation the baby died after a couple of weeks. This situation is heart-wrenchingly, sickeningly unfair. It is unfair that this poor girl had no other option. This story has a lot of large issues, however in this context it highlights the lack of choice women have and the lack of importance placed on that right.

It’s just very hard.

It’s very hard not to get angry, to hold your tongue, to resist lecturing and insulting when you are taking a step backwards.

Seriously...don't touch me.

It’s hard to remain positive when you’re living in a society that sees you as less than you see yourself.

The reason I am able to write clearly is because we have, as planned, moved out of the old medina. I now live with a wonderful Moroccan family who will being making future appearences. Rant over.

الله يهنيك

Nay xxx