Casablanca — It happened yesterday. I was driving back home and stopped at a red light. The man in the car next to me rolls down his window and starts talking to me. Naively, I think I must have forgotten to turn my car lights on. I check. They are on. I think to myself, “Is something else wrong with the car?”
Casablanca — It happened yesterday. I was driving back home and stopped at a red light. The man in the car next to me rolls down his window and starts talking to me. Naively, I think I must have forgotten to turn my car lights on. I check. They are on. I think to myself, “Is something else wrong with the car?”
So I roll down my window down and listen. “Ntiya ghzala, wallah,” he says. In English, that translates to: “You’re pretty, I swear to God.” I roll my window back up. The light turns green and I drive ahead. He gets in front of me and slows down, blocking me. I switch to the right lane. He switches to the right lane. He slows down again. My adrenaline begins pumping. I speed in front of him and turn into my street. I look in my rearview mirror. He is not behind me. But he could still be turning. He has seen where I’ve gone. I look again. The coast is clear.
As I said, it happened yesterday. But it has happened to me hundreds of times before. And it has happened to many women before me and, sadly, I can see it happening for years to come. Hearing “Psssst,” “La gazelle!” and “Salam a khti, bghit ghir nt3aref 3lik (Hello, I just want to get to know you)” are common occurrences while walking in the streets of Casablanca.
My point in telling these stories — and you have probably seen this coming — is: this shouldn’t have to happen!
I should not have to be scared of walking home from my physical therapy session (a 5-minute walk from my house). I should not have to be scared of going out for a run in my native city. I should not have to be afraid to drive home, for fear that a man will follow me in his car, possibly causing an accident.
When I got home last night, I started to question the man’s motives. What did he think was going to happen? Did he think I was going to pull over and yell my number out to him? He would call and I would go out with him and we would get married and live happily ever after? Surely not.
Instead, what likely ran through his mind, and what likely runs through many catcaller’s minds when they do this (especially in the presence of their catcaller friends) is that they are having some harmless fun while asserting their masculinity!
So here is a letter to you, catcaller folk:
Wow. You read the news? If you read the news, surely you are educated enough not to harass women on the street. But alas. The world is a confusing place.
I feel bad for you. Your masculinity must be in really rough shape if you feel propelled to do this.
Wake up call #1: Your actions aren’t harmless. The woman won’t brush it off and keep walking, even though that’s what we appear to do. Instead, the woman you ask to “smile,” and then insult her for not doing so, will just add it to her repertoire of harassment she’s had to endure.
Wake up call #2: We do not have to smile for you. We do not have to do anything for you. We’re too busy heading to the Acima around the corner to cook food for men who still can’t wrap their heads around the idea that women may have a higher purpose besides cooking tagine. You are welcome for that.
The more you continue to harass women on the street, the more you’re perpetuating the idea that this is okay, thereby making women feel unsafe. I would ask you how you would feel if other men did this to your sisters and mothers, but I should not have to. And I won’t. All women (not just your relatives) deserve the right to feel safe from your unnecessary, disrespectful and fear-inducing behavior.
I bet you are probably thinking, “But you were wearing shorts! You were asking for it!” No, you prick! I am wearing shorts because it’s hot out. I am wearing a dress because it is pretty and new! Our decision is not about you. I did not wear this to lure you in. I do not even know you. But now that you’ve catcalled me, this will cause me and other women to be scared to wear what they want. Congratulations for changing the fashion landscape of Morocco! Now we will cover up to save ourselves from your behavior! Kind of ironic, don’t you think?
Many people ask me why I would rather live in the States. Though New York has its own catcalling problem, I always respond that it is because I get the freedom to take a walk without ever feeling scared. And let me tell you something: I hate walking! It makes me sweaty and uncomfortable and I would rather drive places. But your incessant daily harassment has made me miss something I hate doing! Think about that!
