Marrakech, Morocco - When the Numbers Lie
Morocco has long been on my list of places to visit but reading queer safety statistics can really scare a person off. Asher & Lyric’s authoritative list of 203 countries ranked by LGBTQ travel safety puts Morocco at 170. That's in the bottom 16%. Homosexuality is illegal, there are no protections for LGBTQ people, and “unnatural acts” get you 6 months to 3 years in prison. "Public indecency" can get you 2 years. Public indecency laws have long been weaponized against gays all over the world. Though there is a fair amount of info online about visiting Morocco if you're gay or lesbian, but naturally, zero if you're transgender. It sounded like it might be a pretty big risk.
Therefore, I went anyway.
I went with my best friend, a gorgeous cis woman who definitely catches eyes quicker than I do. So I knew I would be a little under the radar if I just didn't do anything to get anyone's attention. We discussed the potential risks that my presence could cause based on the experiences we'd read about. Gay and lesbian visitors all reported the same thing: Refrain from public affection, don't draw attention to yourself and you'll be fine. Most people don't care who you are, the government cares, but the people don't. I tucked this nugget in the back of my head and started planning my outfits. I'm not a flashy dresser so dressing to blend wouldn't be hard. But I would remove my ever-present double Venus necklace.
Going through customs didn’t put me much at ease. The customs officer was very gruff with me, surly even. which made me concerned that this was the sort of treatment I could expect. The AirBnB had sent a shuttle to pick us up and the ride was uneventful. I gazed out the window and marveled at the age of the place, you could almost smell the history of it, and it's pure, raw beauty.
It wasn't long until we turned off the wide avenue and began a careful trek through one of Marrakech's ubiquitous narrow, let's call them passages. Not quite a street, but too wide to be pedestrian only. We stopped, seemingly randomly, and our driver grabbed our bags and darted down an even narrower corridor. We trotted after him, trying to keep up as he lured us further into the labyrinth. He suddenly stopped and unlocked and old wooded door on an earth-colored wall and stepped inside.
You know how when you book an AirBnB, you have some understanding that the pictures are strategically taken to hide the flaws and you know it’s not going to look quite as good in real life? This was the exact opposite. There was no way you could capture the beauty of Riad Barroko in pictures. A three story tiled courtyard with balconies and a swimming pool, a stark contrast to the endless earth-toned walls of the streets.
We met our host, Idriss, who enthusiastically told us the history of the 100+ year old riad (a large house built around a courtyard), and how he lives there as its host and caretaker. His bright and upbeat demeanor was infectious and made us instantly feel at home and at ease. He showed us our room which was small, simple, but quite lavish. Ornate crown molding encircled the rooms, a hand-tiled sink in the bathroom. And an air conditioner that we never quite figured out how to get working. But the bed was comfy, the shower was hot, and the windows provided a gentle breeze.
We were hungry so Idriss took us to a nearby restaurant, Zaman Food. We were given a table on the roof, with a neat view of the street below, watching the people go by. The food was excellent! We got our first taste of Tajine, a North African dish named after the clay pot it's cooked in. I could eat that every day for a year. It's cooked slow like a stew with an array of tangy spices and served with couscous. We got the chicken Tajine, which was so tender, juicy, and rich with flavor. There are many ways to prepare it, an 11th century historian described it like this:
Boil the meat and fry with fresh coriander, onions and hot spices and a little garlic. Then pick out the fennel hearts and cut in half. Put over the meat. Put back some of the broth on it along with sheep's tail. Boil until cooked and the broth has been absorbed. Remove [from the heat].
— Ibn al-Adim, Kitab Al Wuslah il Al-Habib fi wasf al tayyibat wa Al-Tib
Back at the riad, we relaxed in the lounge chairs on the roof, in the cooling Moroccan air. It felt so secluded, removed from the bustling streets below. The sky was huge and I swear the moon looked a little closer. It felt surreal to remind ourselves...we're in Africa! Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day, one way or another.
After a very comfortable night sleep and a light but scrumptious breakfast (included), we were off to explore Marrakech! I dressed in jeans and a casual shirt but I still did my makeup and wore small earrings. Idriss gave us a colorful map of the vicinity and a general idea of how to get to the medina. Just then, one of his friends was walking by and Idriss asked him if he would show us the way. Without hesitation, the man wordlessly motioned for us to follow him into the maze of streets and passageways. He led us through a shop that sold only extremely fancy doors. He took us to a place that sold a million hand woven rugs.
We took a stop to meet the women who grind argan oil for days. It takes three days of grinding to produce one liter of argan oil! This small cooperative employs only women, who traditionally have not been allowed to work. I sat with one woman for a few minutes and she indulged me in letting me take it for a spin. Not something I would want to do all day, for sure, and whatever money these women make is woefully inadequate. (Especially compared with how much argan oil sells for.) But the money they earn is their own and buys them some independence that they might not otherwise have.
Our impromptu guide let us spend time there until we were ready to go, then led us to the medina, where he shook our hands and said he would be on his way. He refused to accept any money for his help, though the travel websites all say people who help you will demand payment. Maybe that's true, maybe we got the bro deal since we were staying at Barroko? I may never know, but the kind man who didn't speak any English was a terrific guide who gave us some experiences we were unlikely to otherwise get. He wouldn't accept money, but we are in his debt.
Technically, the medina actually refers to the entire historic walled city. It's a Unesco World Heritage Site, founded in 1070, and has many architectural and cultural treasures from that time period. The weave of passages that make up the old town haven't much changed in a thousand years. But most people refer to the medina as the large open market in the middle, surrounded by winding passages that seemingly branch off into infinity. In the center, you can find artists, musicians, snake charmers, monkey charmers, and vendors selling trinkets and sunglasses. It's a feast for the senses, everything is in motion and vying for your attention. If any of the vendors catch your eye, say, you want to have a snake charming experience or meet a monkey. Negotiate the price and service in advance before taking any pictures.
From the medina you will easily see the Koutoubia Mosque, the striking minaret that rises above everything. Only Muslims are allowed inside, but standing in the shadow of a mosque that was built in 1195 (not a typo) is a humbling experience. There are several plaques around the outside that tell the history of the building and offer a glimpse into the architecture and construction. Take a minute to ponder the remains of the original mosque right beside it, whose demise is not fully understood.
When you're ready to really start exploring, your best bet is to pick an interesting looking passage and just start walking. Plan to get disoriented if not a little lost. There is something interesting to see around every corner, just be careful to stay out of the way of scooters and motorcycles who seem to have the right-of-way. As with any bazaar, there are shop owners vying for your attention but they’re not overly aggressive. Politely decline and just keep walking. There is a lot of gorgeous jewelry but also a lot of crap. There are clothing stores, rugs, spices, handmade leather goods, just about anything you can imagine. Stop in if you see something you like and you will have their undivided attention. At first, this made me very uncomfortable, because I was cautious about inviting a lot of scrutiny of my appearance. It didn’t take too long to realize that nobody cares. Or maybe, since they don't see a lot of trans women, they can’t tell. I never figured out which, but it didn’t matter. Everyone was very kind to me and treated me with respect.
I relaxed and felt more comfortable talking with shop keepers, asking to see different items, checking myself out in the mirror wearing a pretty necklace. And as I relaxed, I found myself striking up conversations with people, telling jokes, and having a good time. Everyone was super nice and happy to talk and have fun. Most people wanted to know about where we were from and we were equally interested in their lives. Most people were as friendly with us as we were with them.
One shopkeeper motioned across the street to a young man and said to me, “That’s my son. Maybe you’d like to marry him?” I laughed and politely declined, but he insisted. “200 camels!” I said I don’t carry that many camels on me and he replied, “No, I’ll pay YOU 200 camels to take him away!” Naturally, I was won over and the young man and I enjoyed a quick arm-in-arm walk down the aisle. It was one of those silly moments that are made all the more special because they’re shared with strangers in another culture.
Back at the riad that night, sitting on the rooftop, I was treated to the Call to Prayer echoing over the landscape. I haven't heard it since Istanbul some two years ago. It's just as haunting and beautiful as I remember.
By the next day, I had no concerns about wearing a skirt and dangly earrings and hitting the town. Not once did I feel unsafe nor unappreciated. We met more people as we wandered, learning bits about the Berber people, looking at family pictures, and hearing about possible adventures we could have if we return. We stopped by a snake charmer who was more than happy to drape a snake across my friend’s shoulders. I've only seen snake charmers characterized in cartoons so I was really excited to see this in person. It's more like snake annoying. He annoyed the snake until it struck at her cell phone to get some exciting video.
The Jardin Majorelle (Majorelle Garden) is just a short taxi ride from the medina. There are many such gardens in the city, often tucked away from view. Majorelle is the most lavish, though you would not expect such a beautiful, idyllic landscape in the middle of a less than idyllic part of town. Only the line of tourists waiting to get in gives it away. Get your tickets in advance to skip the line like a rock star. The gate staff seems to stagger people's entrance which really helps keep it from getting too crowded.
Inside the walls it is an oasis of calm and peace, punctuated by the bluest blue you've ever seen. The garden was created in the 1920's by French painter Jacques Majorelle, who trademarked that blue. After his death, it fell into disrepair but was resurrected by gay fashion icon Yves Saint-Laurent and his partner Pierre Bergé. Today it's owned and operated as a non-profit. There are 1000 different photo ops so charge your phone before you go.
Barely three days was NOT enough time in Marrakech! Now, knowing what to expect, I'll explore outside the walled city more. There is so much history to discover there, I will have to go back. And I'll definitely be taking some excursions into the Sahara, there are many trips, from a day long camel ride to several days crossing the desert. I'm eager for these adventures. I made friendships on this trip, people who I dearly wish to see again.
The lesson learned is the articles, lists, and rankings of unsafe cities for queer people usually don’t tell the whole story. Everything I read about Morocco was downright scary, particularly dangerous for any LGBTQ+ person. I’m not saying not to take precautions or that there aren’t dangerous places...but Marrakech wasn’t one of them. I was treated with such kindness and care, more respectfully than in some parts of the US. Wonderful people, delicious food, fantastical sights, and something new is always just around the next corner...
