The reason I walk out on the street each day is obviously because I want to hear boys whispering sweet nothings as they walk by me. Whether I just showered or the last time I showered was a week ago, whether I'm in pajamas or nice clothes, apparently I'm somehow still a beautiful girl that must be called after, silly me for expecting to be able to walk on the street feeling like an animal. I knew coming into my time in Morocco that I was going to have a beautiful experience, but that I would also have to put up with street harassment. I told myself I would get used to it, I've been to South America before this isn't my first time dealing with cat calling, and for the most part I actually am quite used to it. Getting cat called is part of my daily routine. I've grown to expect it, but even with this I can't and I won't ever find it acceptable. The fact that men are able to make me question why I went outside, that I constantly have to be aware of my surroundings, and that even if I go out in broad daylight by myself it would be so much wiser if I brought one more person with me, completely sickens me.
What makes it all the worse it that more often than not it's not a boy my age that's calling after me, but a man that is old enough to be my father and sometimes even my grandfather. I know for a fact these men have a sister, daughter, granddaughter, a girl that is in some way important in their life, yet on the streets Moroccan men make it seem as though I'm just an object.
I'll deal with the kissy noises, the completely unoriginal sayings, and the following on the street, but I can't deal with what happened to me Monday. At 2:00 in broad daylight I was walking to the orphanage which is only a five minute walk and the streets are generally crowded. The main street in front of the hospital and my house was extremely crowded and I crossed the street as usual. I noticed a man following me on his motorcycle so I walked as close to the hospital as I could, and that's a quite a big distance between the sidewalk next to the hospital and the sidewalk next to the street mind you. After walking across the whole hospital motorcycle man was still following me, but I finally saw him speed up and I thought that he had finally realized that maybe he had better things to do with his time. Wrong. I turned and on the final (and only the second) street I had to take to get to the orphanage and motorcycle man was sitting there waiting, and unfortunately this part of the street was empty. People constantly walk by this area though, so I hoped that maybe somebody would come walking down right at that moment, but nobody did. I crossed the street, staying as far as motorcycle man as I could, but he felt it was acceptable to cross right next to me. He drove alongside me for a moment, whatever no big deal it wasn't the first time that had happened to me before. However, when he turned and parked right in front of me completely blocking me from walking anywhere that was unacceptable and I was scared considering that there still wasn't anybody on the street. In addition he was speaking to me in French. I mean come on at least he could've guessed my nationality correctly or have been completely lazy and just spoken Arabic to me. At that point I yelled at him " safi, hashuma!" (stop, shame!). Cue laughter from motorcycle man because white girl speaking Arabic is just too funny. I didn't stop, I just kept yelling until he finally left. I really don't know what took him so long to realize that I had absolutely no interest or understanding for that matter of what he was saying.
What's bothersome about this incident is that it happened in broad daylight. I ended up completely unharmed and chances are that nothing would have happened, but in the moment I did actually feel concerned. There are two things called self-control and respect and it would be nice to see these put into use on the street. After having my week start off with such an incident it makes it all the more frustrating realizing that you can't reply to the constant cat calling. Replying would simply be "asking for it" and anyways what am I to do since "boys will be boys?"
What makes it all the worse it that more often than not it's not a boy my age that's calling after me, but a man that is old enough to be my father and sometimes even my grandfather. I know for a fact these men have a sister, daughter, granddaughter, a girl that is in some way important in their life, yet on the streets Moroccan men make it seem as though I'm just an object.
I'll deal with the kissy noises, the completely unoriginal sayings, and the following on the street, but I can't deal with what happened to me Monday. At 2:00 in broad daylight I was walking to the orphanage which is only a five minute walk and the streets are generally crowded. The main street in front of the hospital and my house was extremely crowded and I crossed the street as usual. I noticed a man following me on his motorcycle so I walked as close to the hospital as I could, and that's a quite a big distance between the sidewalk next to the hospital and the sidewalk next to the street mind you. After walking across the whole hospital motorcycle man was still following me, but I finally saw him speed up and I thought that he had finally realized that maybe he had better things to do with his time. Wrong. I turned and on the final (and only the second) street I had to take to get to the orphanage and motorcycle man was sitting there waiting, and unfortunately this part of the street was empty. People constantly walk by this area though, so I hoped that maybe somebody would come walking down right at that moment, but nobody did. I crossed the street, staying as far as motorcycle man as I could, but he felt it was acceptable to cross right next to me. He drove alongside me for a moment, whatever no big deal it wasn't the first time that had happened to me before. However, when he turned and parked right in front of me completely blocking me from walking anywhere that was unacceptable and I was scared considering that there still wasn't anybody on the street. In addition he was speaking to me in French. I mean come on at least he could've guessed my nationality correctly or have been completely lazy and just spoken Arabic to me. At that point I yelled at him " safi, hashuma!" (stop, shame!). Cue laughter from motorcycle man because white girl speaking Arabic is just too funny. I didn't stop, I just kept yelling until he finally left. I really don't know what took him so long to realize that I had absolutely no interest or understanding for that matter of what he was saying.
What's bothersome about this incident is that it happened in broad daylight. I ended up completely unharmed and chances are that nothing would have happened, but in the moment I did actually feel concerned. There are two things called self-control and respect and it would be nice to see these put into use on the street. After having my week start off with such an incident it makes it all the more frustrating realizing that you can't reply to the constant cat calling. Replying would simply be "asking for it" and anyways what am I to do since "boys will be boys?"
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