As a child, I presumed that Morocco, my mother’s native country, was in the Middle east. And why shouldn’t I? We spoke Arabic and were a majority Muslim country. We ate far too much red meat and no pork. So I presumed.
I was wrong. Morocco lies in the North West of Africa. Colonised by the French and the Spanish, it is the middle ground; the limbo that bridges mainland Europe and the East. But it is also in Africa. A huge continent, that is home to a plethora of tribes and faiths; cultures and practices. So am I African? I had never thought about it, but yes, I suppose I am. In part, anyway.
It is this distinction that has played on my mind recently. In 2020, at almost 30 years old, it seems almost impossible to classify anyone as merely one thing. One religion; one ethnicity; one moral code; one sexuality. Most of us are multi faceted creatures of a curious kind; we are each a rainbow of colours, a carefully composed symphony of notes; bound together to create a beautiful and unique song.
I wonder whether this is why we are so adamant about fighting injustice where we see it. So committed to changing the world. So horrified by acts of the past, and so desperate not to repeat them. We are not our parents. We are not our ancestors. We are a hybrid of cultures and values and colour and shape. Does this make us unique? I think so. But does it also make us even more aware of our otherness. Our differences make us strong, but also make us lonely. Brought up between two worlds, with one foot in each, yet not really in either.
I was wrong. Morocco lies in the North West of Africa. Colonised by the French and the Spanish, it is the middle ground; the limbo that bridges mainland Europe and the East. But it is also in Africa. A huge continent, that is home to a plethora of tribes and faiths; cultures and practices. So am I African? I had never thought about it, but yes, I suppose I am. In part, anyway.
It is this distinction that has played on my mind recently. In 2020, at almost 30 years old, it seems almost impossible to classify anyone as merely one thing. One religion; one ethnicity; one moral code; one sexuality. Most of us are multi faceted creatures of a curious kind; we are each a rainbow of colours, a carefully composed symphony of notes; bound together to create a beautiful and unique song.
I wonder whether this is why we are so adamant about fighting injustice where we see it. So committed to changing the world. So horrified by acts of the past, and so desperate not to repeat them. We are not our parents. We are not our ancestors. We are a hybrid of cultures and values and colour and shape. Does this make us unique? I think so. But does it also make us even more aware of our otherness. Our differences make us strong, but also make us lonely. Brought up between two worlds, with one foot in each, yet not really in either.
"I believe that this space gives me that place that I want so much. Sexuality and self discovery opens the door to a world that looks beyond colour; beyond geography; beyond history. It represents the present. The here and now. The beginning of an interesting and often confusing journey."
My heritage shows on my skin, plain as day, for all to see. Not that anyone ever quite gets it right. But my sexuality? That’s a different beast. It’s private. Mine. To share as I see fit. And I choose to share it at Skirt Club, amongst women who make me feel part of something bigger than myself. Not just women of all creeds and experiences, but women who like me, are sick of feeling confused. Sick of pleasing everyone. Sick of explaining and educating and justifying themselves to others.
This space is for us. It is where we can be united in our differences, strong in our convictions, and collaborative in our commitment. Let’s continue to change the world; to give voice to the silent; to fight the good fight. But let’s do it with kindness, with care, with love and with understanding.
"We have already been brave enough to walk a new path. Let’s show others just how easy it can be..."