As March 8 approaches, the usual excitement of our editorial staff takes on a different color. As is the case in all editorial offices, advertising agencies, communications and administrations, the subject of women becomes central, an annual ritual where everyone seeks to echo the celebration of International Women’s Rights Day. In this context, while ideas are flowing and subject proposals abound, my superiors turn to me with a clear but meaningful task: to write a column on what it means to be a woman in 2024. Why me? The answer was as simple as it was complex: in this bastion of the press where male voices resonate louder, I am the only female journalist. Does this singularity give me the right, or even the ability, to speak on behalf of all Moroccan women? Can I claim to summarize the essence of the female experience in 2024, in all its diversity and nuances? Are we all already living in 2024? Indeed, I don’t think anyone can do it. To be a Moroccan woman in 2024 is to embody a living paradox. I am the heir to a past rich in traditions, where roles were defined by gender, and at the same time, I am the bearer of hopes for a future where these shackles would be broken. Yes, education was my battle, and there was victory. The statistics speak for themselves: 58.4% female presence in higher education, compared to 49.4% just a decade ago. Each diploma obtained, each academic success is a silent rebellion against an established order which would like to confine us to pre-established roles. Yet if education has been a door to a world of possibilities, the job market is more like a fortress. Only 22.6% of us fit in, a statistic that not only reveals a glaring disparity but also highlights persistent biases and systemic barriers. Violence, the shadow that too often hovers over our heads, continues to affect more than half of us. These figures are not simple numbers; they are a reflection of the struggles, the pain, the broken hopes and the deferred dreams of my sisters, my friends, my colleagues. In addition, the announcement by HM the King of the reform of the Moudawana, focused on children and families, allows us to dream even more of a better tomorrow. This reform outlines the hope of a future where each member of the family, regardless of their sex, will find their place and protection in the social fabric. A tomorrow where every woman can be responsible for her family, her children, where every woman can be free, autonomous and strong. In this context, being a woman in 2024 is an experience of constant duality. It is a celebration of the progress made, a call to the resilience and strength that characterize us, while being an incessant struggle against the visible and invisible barriers that hinder us. It is to carry within oneself the pride of the progress accomplished and the acute pain of the battles that remain to be fought. But beyond the challenges, there is an inextinguishable glimmer of hope. I have met, interviewed and see women around me who refuse to be defined by outdated expectations. We are architects of our own destiny, determined to redefine what it means to be a woman. We are students, mothers, housewives, healthcare professionals, engineers, creators, leaders; living proof that change is not only possible, it is happening. This March 8, 2024, I pay tribute to both our victories and our indomitable spirit. We are the epicenter of a changing Morocco, a country which is moving, sometimes gropingly, towards a future where being a woman will no longer be synonymous with struggle, but simply a facet of humanity in all its splendor.
