Khadija Ait Oubih: the craft of giving a voice to women – Barbara Bonomi Romagnoli

Ait Oubih, born in Casablanca in 1973, is the president of Trama di terre, an association of native and migrant women, which over time has become an intercultural center, an anti-violence center adhering to the DiRe network (Women in the network against violence), a work desk and accommodation for single women and with daughters and sons. For 25 years, Trama has been a feminist point of sharing between women of different ages and backgrounds, geographical, cultural and social. And after the generational change that took place with the passage of presidency from Tiziana Dal Pra, of the founding nucleus, to Alessandra Davide, for the first time an immigrant and Muslim woman took over.

Let’s go eat at Otello, a cafeteria with a kitchen that hosted Voyager on 8 March 2022, an exhibition organized by Trama with the paintings of a woman who, even with the help of art, is emerging from an experience of violence. When we enter some feminine gazes turn straight to her. Ait Oubih wears a pastel hijab that frames her face, her big hazel eyes shine as she tells me: “The only thing I fear is this, not to be seen for what I am but for the veil. I’m wearing “.

A cultural mediator by profession and self-determined by vocation, Ait Oubih tells how she came to be the woman she is today: “I accepted an arranged marriage but without coercion at 17, I was very young and I thought it could work. I arrived in Italy in 1991 after graduation, to reunite with my husband who had been in Italy for some time. I soon realized that I would not be happy and when I was twenty I filed for divorce ”. Her family of origin was also close to her in her choice: “My mother, orphan and illiterate, always wanted us daughters to be independent and to study. She said it more to us than to our brothers. She wore the niqab, the veil that leaves only her eyes uncovered, yet she never forced us to do something we didn’t want. It was a powerful teaching, I grew up in Morocco without knowing anything about feminism or women’s struggles, but aware that I could choose what I wanted ”.

She eats slowly, the movement with the fork accompanies the story, even in weighing some words: “As soon as I arrived here, young and with my curls in the wind, I gave little weight to the even sexist appreciation I received. I immediately started studying Italian, the first course I did in a parish with a mixed class. Trama organized the first courses for women only, and if it were up to me I would make them compulsory. Many migrants do not attend them and then find themselves without the essential tool to deal with even simple daily tasks “.

It is thanks to the Italian language that he has known racism: “In Morocco I did not perceive it. In our country, foreign people do not scare us and hospitality is fundamental, it comes before the sense of belonging even to one’s family. When I began to understand the jokes about southern or northern Italians, to hear people say ‘Moroccan’ in a derogatory sense, to find myself in situations where I was not even offered a glass of water, I understood how things were. I decided to apply for citizenship so as not to have to go to the police station every two years, but I can’t feel fully Italian, I feel I am a second-class citizen. Four years ago a policeman stopped me and insisted on asking me for a residence permit despite showing him my identity card. In his eyes I was a foreigner. Point.”

Communicating has become her job: the Arabic dialect spoken in her country and throughout the Maghreb has many words in common with the Arabic spoken by women who come from Lebanon, Iraq, Somalia, so she can start a first mediation and understand what they need. A delicate job, for which you have also received threats, not only verbal attacks, up to complaints and court cases. “Because mediating with women means taking power away from males. When I started working in social services, before becoming a mediator for Trama, people turned up their noses, because before me there had been a mediator: until the early 2000s, migrants were mostly men and there were only men to act as interpreters. Moreover, I was also badly judged by the families or communities I worked with, because I was not only a woman, but also divorced and without a veil ”.

We can no longer turn around, the question is a must and Ait Oubih does not hesitate to answer: “I decided to wear the veil years ago. After a back operation, I found myself with my inner self and I felt I wanted to do it, I missed it to feel good about myself. It was my choice, no man imposed it on me. At the time I was alone, I had also left the father of my daughter who grew up with me. Today she is a twenty year old who does not wear a veil “.

I would like to point out that next to her, who could choose to wear it, there are women on whom the veil has been imposed who risk their lives to remove it. In this case which side are you on? “I stand next to these women, because it is true that in the Koran it says that we should wear it, but it does not say that women who do not wear it must be persecuted or killed. Trama teaches that women who arrive with the veil can choose what to do “.

It is perhaps because of her balance between militancy, religion and free choice that Ait Oubih prefers to be called a women’s rights activist rather than a feminist. “Since I have been working with women for women, activism has entered my blood and I cannot help it. I will continue to preside over the rights we all enjoy, including myself ”.

And how is it also managing the power of a presidency? “I accepted the assignment to continue to counter the intertwining of racism and sexism that women suffer, I am ready to dialogue with everyone because I would like to fight stereotypes and prejudices even on our veils, I am not a fundamentalist, the veil covers my head, not my brain ”.