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Some men in this country woo women in the streets. Sounds very Italian right? Ouuh, sexy. Not really. Like every Moroccan female citizen will tell you, they woo women, using FOOD name. Here’s a joke: What’s the difference between a woman and an artichoke? Well? On second thought, this joke is lame, because I don’t know either. As I sit here, writing this article instead of working on my internship (yes, I am an extremely demotivated intern), a thought strikes me like Zeus’ dong (his dick is quite powerful if you trust Greek mythology): For our fellow countrymen, the young and not so young girls walking down the street are no more than vulgar pieces of meat, and I am seriously starting to think that most of the guys in this happy nation (sarcasm, obviously) have a butcher fetish. When our media brings out the talk about rape, catcalling, and sexual harassment at work, the victim is always the one at fault: Maybe she shouldn’t have worn that dress. Maybe she shouldn’t have made eye contact with her boss, that’s teasing for fuck’s sake! Maybe she shouldn’t have worn that red Djellaba, after all, red is the color of sex. Maybe she shouldn’t have had tits and ass and a vagina or even a body. She was looking for it. Everyone blames the victim. Everyone forgets about the harasser, the rapist, the monster hiding behind society’s utter bullshit. In our country, being a woman is sometimes as dreadful as committing a crime. Being a free woman, who strives for gender equality and control over her body? Don’t you even dare thinking about it, they’d lynch you, call you a whore, a slut, the devil’s spawn. Even little girls are not safe from this shitload of hatred and objectification: The day their female features start showing is the day they start being sexualized and treated like livestock in our streets. I’ve lived my whole life in Morocco, and every day, I witness acts of sexual harassment. The woman’s clothes don’t matter: she could be wearing the burkah, a veil, a pair of jeans or a tiny leather skirt (even though I’ve never seen any girl wearing a tiny leather skirt out there. Maybe in some BDSM bar? Do we have these here? I’m sure we do.), she will be harassed. Because, where is this country going if a man cannot have his little me-time looking at a female with Shrek’s eyes (and Shrek was a gentleman goddamn it!) while wearing a snarky smile on his oh so beautiful face and telling her she looks like an peach, or worse, that he wants her to **** his **** (those words are too vulgar, even for me)? This issue became so normal in our society that men don’t catcall anymore because they find a woman attractive, but because they simply need to. It became a form of statement that claims men’s superiority over the gentler sex (we’re not that gentle though, have you ever seen two girls fighting? That’s some hardcore shit!). Sexual harassment has turned into a new monster: It upgraded (Yeah, like a Pokemon), and is now far more dangerous, because, with just a few words, you can strip a woman from her dignity, her confidence and her pride. Some of you will not like this article (even though it’s very funny, we’ll have to agree on this). Some will call me a Feminazi, because the terms Feminist and Gender equality make them want to run around screaming that the devil is back and YOU MUST BURN THE WITCH! But I know that there are still good men in this country, men who respect women and treat them like proper human beings. Some of them are my friends, and I want to thank them. Even though I shouldn’t. Even though the way they behave should be the rule and sexual harassment should be the ugly exception. This is for the people who live. For the people who love. For the people who struggle. And the ones who cry.
Each one of us is a part of this world. Each one of us has something to say, something to do, something to create. For all of us are human, and all of us shall live and die, and make this journey a fucking worthy one. So, let’s enjoy it, fall in love, fall from love, make mistakes, kiss strangers, dance under the moon, make art, create many many beautiful memories, meet great people, and watch beautiful sunsets. But most of all, let’s live life to its fullest. |
Houda LaabadiPoet, writer and traveler. Categories
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