I have been thinking lately about my “Moroccanness” , yes thats a word!
As a young, 2nd generation immigrant in Europe thinking about your “somethingness” (thats a word as well) is quite normal.
I started evaluating my Moroccanness. Do I still speak Moroccan/Darija properly? Do I still know how to make briouat and am I still able to gossip Maroqui when I meet up with fellow distorted Moroccan..er..hipsters?
I know that these points above aren’t exactly a good basis for the evaluation. But there were other points as well. Like guilt/shame etc. Let’s say that there are a lot of points. OK?
So I decided to meet up with some fellow distorted Moroccans in Maghrebtown (Notting Hill Road and surroundings, Moroccans are quite upmarket here in London hehe)
I, or we, came to the shocking conclusion that my level of Moroccanness plummeted in recent years.
I was thinking that I can hardly call myself Moroccan anymore. I dont know how to make briouat anymore, my Darija is lousier than that of a baby and gossip Maroqui irritates me (gossip maricón is still ok)
Besides that I just don’t feel really Moroccan.
I havent been to Morocco for 6 years, I shunned it for its ignorance and other reasons.
My reckless idealism decided to play tricks on me and telling me that I should shun Morocco for its backward culture and politics. So I did.
Let me clarify the “backward culture” stance. I regard every culture or state as backward when religion and modern conservatism are playing a major role.
And sadly in Morocco, modern conservatism is on the rise (from hear-say that is)
And besides that, I lived in the Netherlands (NL) until a while ago. And I never saw any resemblance between my family and that of most other Moroccans in NL.
Now I have to say, and this may sound quite snobby, that my family’s position both in Europe and in Morocco isn’t like that of most immigrant-families. Especially my mothers side. We’re quite westernized if I may say so.
My mother always told us that most Moroccans in NL are “so3ian” and “kleb” (dogs). My family in Morocco used to say the same thing about Moroccans in Morocco.
I know very bad, but I can’t hardly change their position on it.
My fathers side of the family are from the Rif mountains, so I wont elaborate on that. Thats kind of pretty clear.
So the “Westernized” family combined with me being even more “Westernized” has led to a failing Moroccan identity.
Now most of the time I dont have any problems with that. I always doubted the validity of a national identity.
I mean we all need passports and so on, but it is the feeling that I always questioned.
I regard it as dangerous and as a prelude to ignorance.
I’m all pro global and globalized culture. But we all know that the globalized culture is failing somehow. We’re still global but regional global. We all, eventually, fall back to “our” region.
In my case that would be both Morocco and the Netherlands, like all other second generation immigrants.
But as you kind of guessed, it would be like that but it isn’t.
In my case its nothing. I’m regionalless (thats a real word as well and thats a fact!)
Another sign that my “Moroccanness” is failing.
And you know what? I’m actually proud of it. It takes alot of practice and time to dispose yourself of the cultural shackles.
Its just that you feel naked afterwards, but I don’t have problems with feeling naked.
