Femininity in Morocco
As we all know, travel offers amazing sights and exposure to different cuisines and the creation of great memories with your wanderlust companions. However, one of the most beautiful things about travel is how much it can teach you about yourself. My last trip presented itself in the form of myself and three girlfriends traveling to Morocco for a week. I was absolutely psyched to stroll through the Sahara via camelback and eat couscous in a restaurant drenched in dazzling artwork and vibrant textiles. While all kinds of such magic DID happen and I fell in love with many aspects of the country, I still found myself struggling to assimilate well into this heavily patriarchal society. In both my literal journey as well as my spiritual journey, I felt it necessary to reflect on my own definition of femininity because of the vast difference of American and Moroccan ideals on this topic.
Just before I left to Morocco, I had been dating someone who was enamored by traditional gender roles. He believed women were born to be soft spoken, sweet, and dependent on her male counterpart in many ways - the “true” character of a feminine woman. I was raised mostly by a single mom and come from a family of strong-minded, female business owners so my female role models have usually taken on the traditional roles of men. I constantly challenged my then partner and his ideology and even began to question my definition of what being a woman meant while dating him; needless to say, this relationship was short-lived.
To compound my relationship ending due to this constant power struggle, my trip to Morocco shed even more light on the way that a woman is treated outside of American norms. Being from NYC, we experienced unpleasantly familiar cat calls on a daily basis, despite always wearing conservative clothing and even hijabs (head scarves) at times. “Hello India!” was a common greeting in the streets while we were there because of my friends’ tan skin tones. We often laughed or ignored them and kept moving. Other situations were less friendly. One man insisted he was an experienced tour guide and offered to lead us to a reputed argan oil exhibit around the corner and when we declined following him any further into a lonely alley, he became agitated at our disobedience. He proceeded to yell at my friend for being “shameful” and a “rubbish woman” along with other profanity. In another example, the young manager of one of our hotels greeted us personally upon our arrival and was very friendly and seemingly modern. The next day, he greeted us and planted a kiss on my friend’s head claiming that he had finally found his wife, like she was a sandwich he had just purchased at the local deli. He only retreated when she said that she had a boyfriend in America and he avoided us for the remainder of our stay. It was becoming clear that the option to decline a man gracefully was a luxury we had left in America. In another situation, during our private tour of the Sahara with a very reputable agency, the driver suddenly veered off the main road and our tour guide joked that he and the driver were kidnapping us and taking us to a compound where they would steal our jewelry. Maybe their joke was lost in translation, but I can’t imagine any setting that this could ever be humorous to four young female travelers. These are just some examples of how women, especially young women, are viewed by Moroccan society. This is not to discount the many kind people we met there or the breathtaking moments we shared, but I was ashamed for being a naive millennial by thinking that my trip would be solely filled with happy moments that Instagram bloggers published so regularly. I also felt so disillusioned for arguing with the person I had been dating before the trip that women were complete equals when we were so oppressed by constant chauvinism for just a week in Morocco. I am usually so fiercely independent and feminist in my ideals but in retrospect, I would have appreciated a male companion on our trip for safety and for basic respect in daily interactions – something I never thought would be a prerequisite for a trip or words that I would ever admit.
In being more mindful of these experiences, I am thankful for the broadening of my own understanding of womanhood. Being American has very much shaped my opinion that women come in all types of personalities, exuberant or shy, and are collectively becoming increasingly independent with time, only to further blur the lines of gender roles. In Morocco, having a man by your side does afford you a certain respect which was a complete blow to my ego and beliefs. This is the harsh reality of the world and experiencing this firsthand is something I am grateful for because I can appreciate the rights I do have in America. I can also take away the valuable lesson of being acutely aware of the gender norms of the place of I am traveling to, never to rely on the commercialization or cultural appropriation that is so prevalent and perpetuated by social media. In reflection of my trip, I can only continue to hope that the world slowly changes their perception of women and grows to appreciate both genders on a level playing field.
Just before I left to Morocco, I had been dating someone who was enamored by traditional gender roles. He believed women were born to be soft spoken, sweet, and dependent on her male counterpart in many ways - the “true” character of a feminine woman. I was raised mostly by a single mom and come from a family of strong-minded, female business owners so my female role models have usually taken on the traditional roles of men. I constantly challenged my then partner and his ideology and even began to question my definition of what being a woman meant while dating him; needless to say, this relationship was short-lived.
To compound my relationship ending due to this constant power struggle, my trip to Morocco shed even more light on the way that a woman is treated outside of American norms. Being from NYC, we experienced unpleasantly familiar cat calls on a daily basis, despite always wearing conservative clothing and even hijabs (head scarves) at times. “Hello India!” was a common greeting in the streets while we were there because of my friends’ tan skin tones. We often laughed or ignored them and kept moving. Other situations were less friendly. One man insisted he was an experienced tour guide and offered to lead us to a reputed argan oil exhibit around the corner and when we declined following him any further into a lonely alley, he became agitated at our disobedience. He proceeded to yell at my friend for being “shameful” and a “rubbish woman” along with other profanity. In another example, the young manager of one of our hotels greeted us personally upon our arrival and was very friendly and seemingly modern. The next day, he greeted us and planted a kiss on my friend’s head claiming that he had finally found his wife, like she was a sandwich he had just purchased at the local deli. He only retreated when she said that she had a boyfriend in America and he avoided us for the remainder of our stay. It was becoming clear that the option to decline a man gracefully was a luxury we had left in America. In another situation, during our private tour of the Sahara with a very reputable agency, the driver suddenly veered off the main road and our tour guide joked that he and the driver were kidnapping us and taking us to a compound where they would steal our jewelry. Maybe their joke was lost in translation, but I can’t imagine any setting that this could ever be humorous to four young female travelers. These are just some examples of how women, especially young women, are viewed by Moroccan society. This is not to discount the many kind people we met there or the breathtaking moments we shared, but I was ashamed for being a naive millennial by thinking that my trip would be solely filled with happy moments that Instagram bloggers published so regularly. I also felt so disillusioned for arguing with the person I had been dating before the trip that women were complete equals when we were so oppressed by constant chauvinism for just a week in Morocco. I am usually so fiercely independent and feminist in my ideals but in retrospect, I would have appreciated a male companion on our trip for safety and for basic respect in daily interactions – something I never thought would be a prerequisite for a trip or words that I would ever admit.
In being more mindful of these experiences, I am thankful for the broadening of my own understanding of womanhood. Being American has very much shaped my opinion that women come in all types of personalities, exuberant or shy, and are collectively becoming increasingly independent with time, only to further blur the lines of gender roles. In Morocco, having a man by your side does afford you a certain respect which was a complete blow to my ego and beliefs. This is the harsh reality of the world and experiencing this firsthand is something I am grateful for because I can appreciate the rights I do have in America. I can also take away the valuable lesson of being acutely aware of the gender norms of the place of I am traveling to, never to rely on the commercialization or cultural appropriation that is so prevalent and perpetuated by social media. In reflection of my trip, I can only continue to hope that the world slowly changes their perception of women and grows to appreciate both genders on a level playing field.