How Hanae Bezad creates space by appreciating the spaciousness of time
Happyplaces Stories (video)
I had the privilege to spend an entire afternoon with serial entrepreneur, technologist and author Hanae Bezad, wandering the streets of Lisbon, enjoying the views, the people, the colours and our infinite conversation and sharing thoughts around all dimensions of space. She is exactly where she needs to be. For now :) The sparkles in her eyes tell you that there are many more beautiful things to come besides what she is already doing. — The full story follows soon, but this is what she shared:
Coming to Lisbon coincided for me to a moment of reflection. A moment that feels uplifting and uncertain at the same time. Mostly uplifting! A spaciousness of time that my body, heart, mind and soul have called for altogether, a rare and significant time for singing ‘I am what I am’ — the Broadway version, I prefer. A rare and significant moment for creativity and inner grounding. A moment to own aspects of myself that I’ve overlooked, or dismissed. There’s no more pushing away. It’s about embracing the aliveness and the happy places — however they may translate. Here body language science would say: looking up left is about remembering. I remember. I’ve always loved this line by Baudelaire: ‘J’ai plus de souvenirs que si j’avais mille ans’. It feels very true today 🤍
Thank you Tim Leberecht and the House of Beautiful Business for the beautiful connection.
This transcript has been edited for clarity and length.
The spaciousness of time
Recently I have been creating space by moving to Lisbon, where I’m now. I’m in a very beautiful phase, a phase of appreciating the spaciousness of time. That hasn’t occurred that much previously. It has been very intentional. It has been about showing up to this desire of mine to connect more meaningfully and deeply. That has been about creating the space inside and about really going within after a few years of being a lot on the road, activating projects and holding and exploring other spaces. Going from Europe, returning to Morocco, North Africa and some other places on the African continent. Exploring what it means to, perhaps, creating bridges and setting up projects for people. And also to have this space for them to express themselves, to learn, to express themselves, to feel seen and nurtured in ways that I felt as well in my explorations. I love this moment. I really love this moment.
A good space, an interesting space, or an interesting way to hold space is to slow down and go half the pace, twice the presence.
All of you is welcome here
It is also about finding closure. I think it is really about that. When you show up in a space, you have yourself at that time, what you’re carrying, like memories, intentions, aspirations, traumas, and how you relate to other people. The way you are disconnected from other people. The way you are disconnected from yourself. The most beautiful thing to do when you aspire to curate spaces for human beings to show up in their full selves is to have this understanding and be this invitation. To embody this invitation saying ‘all of you are welcome here’. As my very dear friend Louis Fischer says: ‘All of you are welcome here.’ Another thing that he taught me, I learned a lot from my friends, is that it is also about the pace. A good space, an interesting space, or an interesting way to hold space is to slow down and go half the pace, twice the presence. So, I think I’m becoming acquainted with the power of my sensations and emotions and how I can be friends with them in a way that guides me to go beyond the doubts and the awkwardness of asking myself if it is okay to do that, is it okay to say that.
Dancing with chains
I appreciate the connection, the mystique of the connection, and the energy while holding on to intuition. It is very much about feeling the world and your own light and eventually mirroring the light of others, which can be one-on-one or with multiple people. We’re here in a beautiful space with a magical purple tree. Some people are sitting here. Some animals wander around. You can hear the birds. It is about appreciating the ecosystems that nourish and feed your being into the space. It is how I like to cocreate the space.
I think that holding spaces is an invitation to dance. Some people are a bit more comfortable with the moves, and others need a little more guidance. (…) Nietsche said beautifully: ‘Freedom is about knowing how to dance with your chains.’
Sounds, music and silence are mutually important. Appreciating how we express ourselves beyond words, in the body language, in the things that hold back. It is like a dance. I think that holding spaces is an invitation to dance. Some people are a bit more comfortable with the moves, and others need a little more guidance. Some people appreciate it when it is about shaking things up. Others don’t. It is important to see the dancer in all of us. The dancer is free to see the aspiration in the connection. Nietsche said beautifully: ‘Freedom is about knowing how to dance with your chains.’ We all have chains. We all have ties and attachments. Some of us are working heavily or very intentionally on becoming freer in many different ways. We all come from a bunch of things: from circumstances, from a certain upbringing, from our self that has built limitations, aspirations, movements and ways to hold back. Appreciating all this complexity of the self, of the self within the collective, and yet being able to invite and the joy in taking a step and then seeing a little bit more is what I like. I like seeing myself do that.
Hospitality space
And there is the sense of hospitality. I am from Morocco, an interesting place to grow up, at the crossroads of many cultures. Here in Lisbon, I feel the Mediterranean side of myself fully welcomed. Fully in resonance with the city, I would say. There are commonalities here, where I come from, and how hospitality is central. I have been reflecting on hospitality as a way of creating community and as a way of realising more truth. Again, the spaces that I love to create and am eager to continue exploring are places where people learn about themselves and others and eventually transform within the truth of connections. Adding a little more colours, ways, moods and spices to the container is nice. For truthful spaces, safety is key. Safety and love.
The spaces that I love to create and am eager to continue exploring are places where people learn about themselves and others and eventually transform within the truth of connections.
Truth space
I’m in this moment of reaching out for clarity and exercising the muscle of discernment. I feel that an interesting space to create for oneself and others is a space where it is safe to create a few steps further towards truth. Truth can be individual truth, collective truth — expression and creativity are very much about that. Spaces that matter are spaces that are one step closer to the truth. No lies, no masks. Seeing the depth of the experience of being a human and seeing it embodied by different people. I love watching that; I love being the observer of the multiplicity of the human experience. It is delightful.
Spaces that matter are spaces that are one step closer to the truth. No lies, no masks. (…) I love watching that; I love being the observer of the multiplicity of the human experience.
The subtle boundaries of space
First and foremost, the safety of a space comes from intention and awareness. If you are showing up to curate a space, if I am showing up to create a space, or anyone else: there are certain pathways we impose on people. Their boundaries the rules need to be shared and co-created. It is about letting that emerge as well. Some people have more capacity to express themselves; others don’t because of their personality. But also because of their culture. I know that I come from a culture where there are lots of things unsaid. It is extra work to be able to analyse and nail the rules and boundaries. I am trying to hone my skills on that. So many cultures are not as direct as some Western cultures. Sometimes it is restful to be in spaces where people are direct. It is about having this awareness, about cultivating this awareness that is key. And to dare more than a little bit to be vulnerable. I like to think about curators as people who create and allow others to share more of themselves to ensure that there is enough space for everyone to do that. Making sure that voices are heard.
Being able to hold a safe space is about appreciating the subtlety, showing up for it, working on it, and refining it.
Layla Saad said something beautiful in her book ‘Me and White Supremacy’: ‘You don’t have to be the loudest voice, but you have to use your voice.’ I keep that in mind anytime when I’m in a space where I see people are more silent and reserved for various reasons. And where other people are very present, making sure that there is equity and attention. That is not an exact number, like the time given to others; it is in the presence. It is in the receptivity. All those dimensions are subtle. Being able to hold a safe space is about appreciating the subtlety, showing up for it, working on it, and refining it.
Growing back to the roots
I grew up in Rabat, the capital city of Morocco, in a rather French cosmopolitan environment. I expected, or thought, that it was the norm my entire youth. For example, being able to celebrate Christmas and being invited to Jewish celebrations because my father was the doctor of many Jewish families. There was a sense of ease in traversing and navigating the multiple aspects of what is present traditionally in Morocco. I was exposed to many different cultures, like the diplomatic personnel and their kids. This was the environment I grew up in. Eventually, when I moved to France to pursue my studies, it felt like it was something different despite going to rather elitist schools. I felt like a level of international worldliness was lacking. There is also a kind of conservative aspect to Paris. There is a Parisian way of doing things. At least, that is what I felt.
I was gladly on track to assimilate it, and I also wanted that. The moment when I reached my highest point of Parisianness also corresponded to a moment where I didn’t have the heart for it anymore or a larger aspiration. I could see France was going through a difficult moment when celebrating its own diversity and understanding its complexity and difficulties. France marginalised some of the segments of its population for a long time. At that point, it also corresponded with a moment where I looked back and said: ‘Okay, I spent a decade in Europe. I changed quite a lot. I learned so much. Now I want to be able to explore the world further. Maybe embrace purpose much more than what I have been doing so far.’ All of this has been a way of ‘growing up’. The Frenchness was feeding the Moroccanness, and the Moroccanness was also feeding the Frenchness.
It has a sense of having a dominant culture and a culture that feels less of itself. It wasn’t until I reached the limits of what assimilation meant that I thought: ‘Hey, I don’t want to play the role of the good Arab in Paris. I’m more than that; I want to make more of my life.’ There are cases of ordinary racism, glass ceilings for women in the context of the French corporates, and so on. A lot of things collided at that point. I had an appetite to dive deep into my roots. See and appreciate the power, strengths and limitations to do the work, the inner work of what to keep, and what to convey gladly. And what to resolve to become a good ancestor again in terms of what Layla Saad said. After growing up in Morocco and spending a decade in Europe and a few wonderful years in the US, I had an appetite to explore. I returned to Morroco.
Space for potential
From there, I discovered segments of the youth all over the African continent were shifting the narrative. They were showing up to fully show their potential, doing this against all odds because it is not easy. There are so many challenges, so many barriers, structurally and systematically. I wanted to participate in that. And in doing so, exploring aspects of myself as well. Coming from Morocco, I’m at a crossroads. There is a part of me that is Western African. There is a part of me that is Arab. There is a part of me that is European. There is a part of me that grew up fantasising about America. I wanted to recompose all of these aspects, to make them dialogue healthy and generatively. It opened doors to beautiful journeys. I lived in Rwanda and travelled to about 60 countries in the world. I say that with humility and pride to have done so because I look back and understand I came from everything that was brought into me.
With the earned privilege of my passport not being a limitation anymore, I continued to open doors for myself, hoping that it would inspire other people to identify and explore their ways of expressing their potential to become who they want to become in embracing their freedom. That is perhaps the red thread.
You have to realise that in three generations, things have massively changed for women in North Africa. My grandmother didn’t go to school. I nailed and aced schools in multiple places. I made it so that my passport would not be a limitation anymore, eventually becoming French. With that earned privilege, I continued to open doors for myself, hoping that it would inspire other people to identify and explore their ways of expressing their potential to become who they want to become in embracing their freedom. That is perhaps the red thread. Lisbon is fantastic. Sometimes I have moved from one place to another because there was maybe 50% of love and 50% of work. Lisbon, here and now, is me fulfilling my strongest en most important dreams. That makes this an interesting moment for me, this spaciousness of time. The book I’m writing now has not to be just a play with words and in the mind. If I’m writing about integrity, I have to feel integrity to the very core of myself. I must feel it in my guts, liver, and everywhere else. That is the intention that I’m putting into being here.
