First in class, twice over

I am a Moroccan girl from the south-eastern region, an area known for its harsh traditions and customs towards women. There, once a girl finishes primary school, she says goodbye to her studies for good and starts preparing for marriage. Among us, sixteen is considered the right age, when the chances of marrying are highest; and sometimes girls marry even younger — the older a girl gets, the fewer her chances of marrying.

As for me, I grew up in that environment and was a hard-working pupil. I remember that from the third year of primary school I was always first in my class. My father was delighted with that achievement and felt proud of me at family gatherings. I would see his eyes shine with joy, which gave me even more enthusiasm and encouragement to give more.

I finished primary school and, as usual, was first in my class. That was the turning point: would I go on with my studies? The secondary school was half an hour away by bicycle from where we lived, and on top of that our culture kept girls from continuing their education for that reason, and because preparing them for marriage was considered the priority. And that is when the surprise came.

On my last day at primary school, the teacher who had taught me in third year called my father in to the school, praised my dedication and good upbringing, and encouraged my father to let me continue my studies, pointing him towards the headteacher of the secondary school I would move to. My father responded positively to the teacher's words and went straight to see the headteacher, who in turn offered a series of incentives: that his own daughter — who lived near us and was my age — would accompany me on the way; that we would be placed in the same class; and that we would be allowed to stay inside the school during the break between the morning and afternoon sessions. These incentives were enough to convince my father to let me continue my studies.

And so my first dream came true. I won't hide from you what my parents suffered because of the criticism in our town — people saw it as a challenge to them — but both of them stood firm. I, for my part, took on full responsibility for studying hard and passing with excellent marks; I was first again, as usual, this time across my whole school, for three years running. That is how secondary school ended, with outstanding success — but at the end of that last year, what was expected happened.

One day, coming home from school as always, I found my father discussing something with my mother. From their expressions I immediately sensed it was something important. He called me over to sit beside him and told me that the son of a friend of his had asked for my hand in marriage, and that I had now reached the right age for it. He also told me I would move to live in the city as soon as I married. The news hit me like a thunderbolt: I had come home with news of my success and my graduation from secondary school, and I was met with news of a marriage that would put a definitive end to my dream of studying.

Of course, I refused, I cried, and I begged my father to turn down the suitor, but he wouldn't agree, arguing that the husband had all the qualities of a good spouse and that I had reached the right age to marry according to our customs and traditions. At that point I had no say in the matter; I was forced to bury my dream and fulfil my father's dream of seeing me as a wife in my own home.

A year later, I married the man my father had chosen, and I moved to live in the city of Fez, immersing myself in the details of married life and its responsibilities. Even so, I never forgot my dream of one day finishing my studies. I would often talk to my husband about that dream; sometimes he would reply with “God willing”, and other times he would remind me of the responsibility of raising children and that this was a wife's first priority.

But I never gave up. I was completely certain that one day I would finish my studies and show everyone that I was capable of balancing my home and my dreams.

Nine years passed like this, until the enrolment period for the external secondary-school leaving exam (bachillerato libre) arrived. I begged my husband to let me enrol, promising him I would only study at home until exam time. He agreed reluctantly, but that didn't matter — I could finally smell success. I bought study guides for the subjects and began preparing for the exam. And indeed, I passed in the ordinary sitting, which allowed me to enter university. I graduated three years later with a degree in Islamic Studies, without losing a single year. After that I sat the entrance exam for a master's degree, and graduated with that qualification two years later. During this time I also applied for the secondary school teaching exam and passed it, thank God. Then I applied for a doctorate, and passed that too.

I am now a doctoral researcher at Sidi Mohamed Ben Abdellah University in Fez, and a teacher of Islamic Education, and the mother of two wonderful young men. All of this has been possible thanks to God, the Almighty, and after Him, thanks to my father, my husband, and my sister, who supported me during my years of study while I, already married, carried the responsibility of raising my children.

Finally, I thank everyone who played a part, near or far, in the fulfilment of my dream, and I hope my story can be an inspiration to anyone fighting to achieve their goals in this life.