In a world when our rights have been nominated dreams. I am dreaming of this day, where there is no violence, no looks of desire, and no sexual harassment anymore.
A world where I can dress nicely and properly, a world where I can apply my favorite lipstick color, a world where I can speak whatever language I want to practice, a world where I can smile or laugh out loud to my friends’ jokes, and no one will harass me or get to classify me.
This morning I came back home from school at 10 A.M., because the weather is so chilly. I sat on a couch in my messy room; I remained in my uniform and covered myself with a soft pink blanket, turned on my laptop, took a sip of my hot coffee and started checking my email folder and reading world news headlines.
Suddenly, my phone rang, ting…ting. I picked it up.
A sonorous voice answered back: “Hi. Are you the lady wearing a yellow outfit yesterday in the library private room?”
With a fuzzy, yet uncomfortable feeling, I said, “Yes. Is anything the matter?”
Unwanted and unwelcomed talk and giggles from a group of folks crossed my ears and put me in shock.
I finished the call. My meditations notebook with a yellow cover grabbed my whole attention. I opened it and started looking at my parents’ and siblings’ pictures. Then, I turned page after page, until I made it to these lines I wrote in August 2012, in my home town located in the southwest of Morocco.
“My father doesn’t allow me to major in media and journalism, because I am a girl and he doesn’t believe in women’s capacities, and he told that if I go to Rabat, where the Higher Institute of Information and Communication is based, I will be only a slu*. Maybe that’s the way he can describe his fear and care about me.”
I am leading my own revolution against contempt, disdain, and scorn of the society toward us as women. I don’t care about having the right to get drunk or make love, but about things that actually add value to women as a brain, as a body, as a soul, and a human being. I put my notebook aside. A salty tear dropped to my cheek.
I turned off my laptop, wiped my forehead, inhaled, and huffed, “Phew. We still have to fight. Our journey has just begun.”