The 15 longest minutes of my life — a very interesting social experiment in the shoes of a headscarfed woman in Southern France

Hanae Bezad
Jul 25, 2017 · 4 min read

The 15 longest minutes of my life, a very interesting social experiment in the shoes of a headscarfed woman in Southern France — Saturday morning I was heading to a wedding for which I wanted to be fancy and original and all… I had co-designed my dress with my mother, from afar, during my Latam trip, tailor-made it by Mr Fennich, a historical figure in Rbati fashion design. He’s been working as a fully passionate tailor for the past 50 years and wearing his creation made me feel really proud.

Since I was staying at my childhood professor’s for a class reunion the day before the wedding, about 400 kms from where the event was taking place, and since his wife is a talented Gabonese braider, I accepted her offer to do my hair and went all hair-breaded. African from head to toe in a multi-culti wedding. Promoting slow fashion and everything “home made”. I was feeling even happier to celebrate.

She put a scarf on my hair before the trip, to keep the braids tight. My childhood professor drove me to the Blablacar meeting point in Figeac. My friends were running late to drop a bag I had left to them. So I went downtown to buy rolls for our ride breakfast. And for every minute I spent there, I gathered countless disapproval looks. Looks I usually don’t get. Heavy looks. Angry looks. Scared looks.

The wedding was lovely, inspiring and beautiful. The badass Anglican lady reverend gave an uplifting sermon about love and marriage. I particularly recall her advice on keeping the fights clean and the sex dirty. Pretty insightful!

Later that evening, we danced the circle dance to Jewish rhythms — my friend’s father is a proud French Moroccan Jew that knows how to party … — and we obviously didn’t not escape Despacito. We’re still in 2017 after all…

I’m now heading back to Paris. I was lucky I got offered a ride by a funny blonde lady at the exit of my hotel, when she saw me lifting my luggage and dress, facing the strong Provence wind that accelerates the forest wildfire. We chatted a bit over Fhin, the music she was listening to, she told me about her mother who was getting old and senile, and dangerous behind the wheel. She told me about her “African parenthesis”, the ten years she had spent in Gabon and Cameroun to follow her businessman husband. I told her a bit about my current projects. She skeptically said “good luck with that!”.

“-Aren’t you scared of going back to Morocco?
- A little bit.
- Because you’re very westernized at this point.
- I am, it seems. But well, it’s also the right moment to take risks. And it’s exciting. If it works out…It’s meaningful.”

And there we were, casually chatting and driving. She was also smoking and cursing. The usual — and quite loveable — French cliché thing.

- “I’m sorry if it sounds like it’s coming from nowhere. But we’re almost at the station. And I feel an urge to ask you: What’s up with all these women putting a headscarf ?! I mean, our mothers have fought for women rights…
- I don’t know. It’s a quite complex phenomenon. Even in Morocco, we’re getting to a polarized society.”

My escape vague answer did not quite work. Or maybe it did…

- “Well anyway, now I’m buying shorter and shorter clothes. It’s also because I have lovely legs to show off.”

I love listening to 50+ women bragging over their sexiness. It has something of cheekiness and meekness and self-assumed sensuality that resists the ageist bias of the consumption era. It’s neat, really. Except when it becomes culturally hegemonic and self-sufficient.

- “It must be a desire of revenge that drives them.”

Revenge from whom? About what? Is it not a bit too easy to keep on nurturing this European-centeredness? As uncomfortable as I sometimes feel in very conservative environments in Muslim countries, because I, as a Muslim, get subtle and not so subtle nudges to dress more conservatively, and to act more conservatively, and it bothers me, just like it did as I was growing up there, I feel that their choice has pretty much nothing to do with me and my choices. And this sense of clarity over who I am and what I like and dislike helps me cope with the clumsiness of other so-called believers, and non-believers, that feel entitled to give me a lesson over what I should be.

I still have a hard time getting why people feel so threatened here.

It was a lovely gesture of the funny blonde lady to drop me at the train station. It saved me a good 2 hours. It also reminded me of the very long 15 minutes I had spent as a headscarfed woman two days before. Maybe she’s right after all, time is not the same here and in Africa. Same goes for the sense of otherness…

Hanae Bezad

Written by

Writer. Driver of the coding bootcamp Le Wagon Casablanca. Founder of Douar Tech. Yallah, let your mind bezad ;-) #Emergingmarkets #SocialEntrepreneurship #Tech

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