Bailey Carkenord Blog Post 4 – Gender Segregation and Physical Affection in Morocco

On my second night in Fez, I found myself observing the patterns of physical contact between Fassis. My host family was taking me to a concert in the Medina, and, as we left the house, my host cousin Marwa had taken my hand and not let go as we walked through the streets. Another female cousin, Wefae, had linked arms with my roommate Molly, and our host sister Meriam walked hand in hand with our host mother. Molly and I had only met these women the day before, but we were already accustomed to exchanging kisses on each cheek as a greeting and holding hands when walking around. As we reached the concert, I noticed other pairs of women walking with linked arms or hands. I couldn’t remember the last time I had held hands with a platonic female friend in America. But here it was completely normalized—and practical: holding hands was necessary to avoid being separated in the bustling, crowded streets of Fez.

Even more striking to me was the number of male-male pairs I saw holding hands or linking arms. In America, men holding hands is even more taboo than women holding hands. In many places, gay men still refrain from PDA for fear of harassment, and heterosexual men abstain for fear of being labeled gay. But in Morocco, same-sex physical contact is obviously less sexualized. I found it ironic that in one night in Morocco, (where homosexuality is illegal) I saw more same-sex pairs holding hands than I have ever seen in my hometown in America. And in Fez, no less; the religious capital of the country.

But perhaps Fez’s religiosity is the very reason for this pattern. At mosques, men and women are segregated for prayer, and this trend seems to be reflected in Fez. Male-only cafés line the streets of the Old Medina, and I observed very few mixed-sex physical interactions. I was reminded of a scene in A House in Fez when a French couple was physical attacked by locals for kissing outside of a mosque. In Fez, it is mixed-gender contact that is taboo.

In Rabat, however, the atmosphere is different. I have only been here a few days but have seen numerous heterosexual couples holding hands or embracing in the streets. At street cafés, the tables are occupied equally by men and women, and it is not uncommon to see a man and woman sharing a table—a true rarity in Fez. I still see women linking arms as they cross streets, but I have yet to see any men holding hands. Same-sex and mixed-sex interactions in Rabat appear to be much more Westernized than in Fez. Perhaps this makes sense considering that when France colonized Morocco in 1912, the capital was moved from Fez to Rabat. The French expanded the city to meet their needs and had direct colonial influence there until Morocco gained independence in 1956. Therefore, Rabat was exposed to many more Western values and norms than Fez, and it seems that some of those surrounding gender norms have held on through today.

The Old Medina in Rabat. Both men and women can be seen sitting at the cafe on the right.