Plea of a Moroccan slave

As a woman in Morocco, I have always had problems adhering to the normality (or rather what is believed to be so) of my family and my society. I have always found it very appalling how women are treated. Just like second class specie, women's need in Morocco pass second after their men's; should that be the father, the brother or the husband. They just have to wait for leftovers.

No, no…this is regardless of the social class you are from. The discrimination differs from one another, true, but it still exists in all and every family. Some may have been very good in fooling themselves and think that they are emancipated and do not fit in this oppressed group anymore. Let me tell you I was one of them, until I got a visit from my father.

Well, I tell you what…I am stupid and the greatest fool of all time, yes I said it yes I did. I thought I won the battle and that I was a free gal, and that I, no longer, was the oppressed Moroccan slave (l'khdidima d' Sidi).

I have always refused to conform; I fought hard to make myself heard, unfortunately I just realized that my battle has not even begun.

So I was saying, my father is visiting these days and he is staying with me.

You know what the liberated women I am, is forced in doing everyday? Cook, clean and cater to three healthy sound men.

My battle is worth but hard to win, as the first people I would have to battle against are my family. Men in my family, heck…my family likes to think of itself as being a liberated family, not true.

I still have a long way to go.