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.
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6 comments:
Thank you Foulla, but i was hopping for more from you. You know i was going to adress this to you. I wanted to ask for your advise, only i know that the little prince needs you more then i do.
Foulla nobody told me that it was going to be this hard.
I miss you!
wa ibad allah! Elle me tue, que puis-je faire pour ne pas t'aimer autant.
Bof,
we will need a whole day just for us.
Merci pour ton passage sur mon blog c'est trés gentil.
Tu es la bienvenue
As a feminist, I am depressed when I find myself doing the exact same thing when I am with my Iranian family. But I remember the day when I told my mother that I was never marrying an Iranian man (the ones I was meeting then were all horrible) - that I refused to live the stereotype for the rest of my life. She was a little shocked but then was fine. I married an American that does more around the house than I do and is a full partner. I feel lucky. But I must, must stop slipping into that old role when with Iranian family. Sigh.
@ Maryam-- Thank you for visiting
---I realized that no matter what I do I am still a bit imprisoned in the Moroccan way of thinking. I refuse to be a slave but in a way I slip into it, just like you, whenever my family is around.
My husband does help around the house, but bothers me Maryam is that our "Man" does not view that as a participation/duty but rather as a plus…as I said in my post, the road is long and tricky but the fight is worth it.
Cheers,
Soumiaz
Hi soumiaz
I am discovering your blog and I like it
I do understand what you are talking about
I once experienced a scene with my ex boy friend, we had an agreement for exemple the one who cooks doesn't do the dishes, I am happy with that usually I cook and he do the dishes (I hate doing the dishes :))
One night I prepared a great diner, everthing was allright, we spent a great evening and as the evening passed he stood up to leave and the dishes were on the sink, I was a bit frustrated, why do we have to remind them ??? it was a deal wasn't it?? and when I did I was told that I like to ruin everything ... I mean if he did what he was supposed to do nothing would be ruined, not his evening nor mine...
I told this story to some of my female friends and they all agreed with him... I was the one who ruined it, I should have kept it to myself, done the dishes and shut up, and if frustrated it was not that bad....
I heat it when we ourselves are the means of our enslaving...
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