Place Jamaa el Fna

In my Feminist Rant post, I mentioned how originally I thought I would wait to share my thoughts on being a woman in Morocco until after an inevitable more extreme experience. I should have waited until after Marrakech.

I really loved my time in Marrakech, and luckily the experience I will relate did not overshadow the rest of my time there (which is for a separate post). But it’s especially personal. Marrakech’s most well known attraction is the Place Jamaa el Fna, a large square between the Koutoubia mosque and the souqs (markets) of the medina. It was declared a World Heritage site because of its street performers and rich storytelling traditions. After a month without theatre, I was dying to see some performances and it was probably what I was looking forward to the most. When

Hannah and I arrived around 7pm, the performers weren’t quite in full swing yet, but there were other fun things to look at (and pay money for if you wanted a photo), like snake charmers, musicians, and monkeys. After looking around a little, we downed some 25 cent amazing orange juice from one of the many stands, then spent some time shopping in the souqs before grabbing dinner at one of the many restaurants that sets up in the plaza just before sunset, all of which are super cheap (we had good food and sizable portions plus tea for about $5). After our dinner, as we wandered around trying to decide on another stand to get tea, we were attacked by the many men employed to get people to choose their restaurant. They’re pretty intense, and despite “Non, j’ai mange” (No, I ate) they would say, “second dinner!” Marrakech was much more intense (about 50 times) than Rabat when it came to catcalling, but luckily it was more creative, and sometimes amusing, like the many times we had “Fish and chips!” called out to us because they thought we might be British. Usually it was comments in French or English about us being pretty girls or some variation. But the one that really got me was when I stubbornly kept walking and refusing a guy trying to get me to go to his restaurant (they literally get in your face, you can’t ignore them, one guy almost body slammed Hannah). As I walked away he said, “Oh my god, nice boobies.” I was pissed; he had crossed a line. And all I could think was, “how could he possibly think that would get me to change my mind and go to his restaurant?” Of course my mother is much wiser and I need to cool off and not let these things get to me. When I told her that story, her response was, “Of course he said that, it was all part of his power game. You were turning him down, and it was his way of putting you down too.” Duh.

But no, this is not the incident to which I am referring. After tea, we went to look more closely at the performances going on in the middle of the plaza. I was excited; this is what I had come to see! But I was a little disturbed…despite many other women milling around, I noticed that all of the large circles (50 to 100 people at least) forming around the acts were 99% male. I tried to push these concerns out of my mind and focus on the performances—nothing was getting in my way! Upon sighting a man standing on top of another man’s head, we made our way over to the outskirts of that circle. While trying to find a space between the heads to view the performers, I noticed that a man was standing uncomfortable close behind me, pressing against me. We couldn’t really see anything, and so after a few minutes decided to try another circle. But as we turned to go, both Hannah and I each felt a guy grope our “derrieres,” if you will…it was too dark to tell who did it. Neither one of us particularly appreciated that, and so we decided to leave.

We may have joked about how it was the PG version of sexual assault, but the more I think about it, the more I get really angry. This was not some harmless catcall. I was taken advantage of (albeit not in a terribly harmful way) in a place where I had every right to be, and what’s more, while trying to enjoy something I had been looking forward to and really wanted to see. It was all too clear why women were avoiding those circles, something I knew in the back of my mind but didn’t want to pay attention to or believe. The next night we went back, but we didn’t even try to watch the performances in the circles. I am still upset that these men dictated what I could and could not experience because I am a woman.