Feminisms can be expressed in many forms, in a variety of complex sub-cultural systems that are full of synergies and contradictions. One such arena is music. In this paper, Casey Jo Brege examines the types of feminism expressed through rap and hip hop in Morocco, in the context of the Mudawwana and the monarchy. Since the 1999 coronation of King Muhammed VI, Morocco has undergone large-scale legal reform via the nation’s Islamic family and personal status laws (the Mudawwana), gendered social roles and gender equality, and accepted modes of feminist political engagement in public space.
Brege uses the work of cultural theorist Stuart Hall to look at the music of two hip hop artists, Fnaire and MC Soultana, to demonstrate the ways that musicians work within and reflect the contemporary landscape of Moroccan feminism, political resistance, and reconstructions of gendered identities, all while working with, through, and around the regime’s co-optive power. The paper is structured in three parts: an introduction to the Moroccan Mudawwana, and analysis of the two artists work.
Brege notes that the differences between the artists provides a telling look at developments in both feminist thought and political environment. Hip hop group Fnaire's “Ma Tqich Bladi” evokes the symbolically potent khamsa (a palm-shaped amulet) to engage directly with regime rhetoric, employing the language of Islam in an apolitical way. Fnaire speaks of women, but does not include their voices or bodies in song or video. By contrast, MC Soultana reflects the calls of the 20 February Movement, which emerged during the Arab Spring, for political action disengaged from official regime channels. She raps publicly about gendered concerns from a position of experience, and no longer depicts women as passive national symbols but as active citizens of the nation.
The gap between these musicians discourse and action remains a potentially rich field of investigation. Both Fnaire and MC Soultana engage in activities that can be seen as both confirming and denying regime legitimacy, e.g. large-scale music events that affirm regime control over public space. Rather than making judgement on the relative ethics of musical output, it is Brege’s aim to highlight these discrepancies to demonstrate the complex, shifting nexus of individual agency, socio-musical expression, and external political pressure in contemporary Moroccan hip hop. Understanding this nexus can provide a deep insight into the multi-faceted expressions of hip hop artists and their fans, and doing so begs a re-evaluation of both protest and culture as widely perceived.
Brege concludes that there is still work to be done in exploring the intersections between regime legitimacy, feminist opposition, and emerging hip hop artists in Morocco. A deeper understanding of the history and construction of gendered social spaces, and the Kingdom’s use of religious rhetoric as a mode of legitimation, would provide a strong starting point for examining the continued evolution of Moroccan feminist engagement.