Zainab Fasiki (Fez, 1994) is a Moroccan illustrator and women’s rights activist. Currently based in Casablanca, this mechanical engineer by training began drawing at the early age of 15 and is now one of the most prominent figures in Moroccan art.
nComing from a humble family and the only girl among six siblings, Zainab Fasiki’s path has been far from easy: “I come from a very modest family: my father is an artisan in the medina of Fez and my mother works at home. I have five brothers, and when I reached adolescence I realised that I was controlled much more. I didn’t have the same freedom as them: I couldn’t go anywhere. Today my parents have realised this and have apologised to me; but yes, that was a turning point in my life,” she explains. This is how her urge to draw everything she didn’t understand was born.
nAs a result of her own experience as a woman and after systematically experiencing discrimination and sexual harassment on Moroccan streets, Zainab Fasiki decided to start drawing how she felt and to show through illustrations what not only Moroccan women, but women all over the world, were facing. Her work seeks not only to break taboos, but also to generate knowledge. “In Morocco, sex education or knowledge of women’s bodies is almost non-existent, so with my drawings I also want to educate,” she explains. In her comic strips Fasiki has also addressed issues such as gender-based violence, which is highly prevalent in Morocco. This is how the graphic essay Hsouma, meaning “shame”, came about; a comic that breaks with sexual and gender taboos and denounces discrimination and the culture of blaming women. Currently translated into five languages, it will be published in Spanish next October.
nFor her work, Zainab Fasiki has received numerous awards and accolades, such as the Amnesty International Award for Women’s Rights (2018); she has been recognised by Time magazine as a leader of her generation, and in 2022 she received the courage award at the prestigious Angoulême International Comics Festival. “This award was very important to me because it is only given to authors from Muslim countries. It’s a very special award, and I was the first Moroccan woman to win it.” However, what excited her most was receiving her artist’s card from the Moroccan Ministry of Culture in 2023. “This means that in my country I am finally recognised as an artist.” Zainab Fasiki’s career has not been free of obstacles: ever since she began drawing her comic strips, the artist has had to face fierce criticism of her work and numerous threats from the most conservative sectors of society. “I have been bullied and threatened on various occasions. I have even had to file complaints. That’s why this recognition is so important to me.”
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The Women in Power residency: resilience, empowerment and a future for young artists
nFrom the beginning of her career, Zainab Fasiki was clear that she wanted to go further: as well as offering her talent to society, she wanted to give new generations of young people the tools they need to empower themselves. This is how Women in Power was born in 2018, an initiative that seeks to empower Moroccan girls and teenagers through art. “The aim was and is to train girls and women who have artistic aspirations but lack the support of their families. That had happened to me: I wanted to be an illustrator but ended up becoming an engineer because of social pressure. I left it shortly afterwards to steer my career towards art. In 2018 I was lent a cultural space in Casablanca and we started running some workshops: they were a real success. And so it has continued to this day. There are many people with artistic sensitivity who cannot get training and have no opportunities. It’s something I don’t do for money, but because I truly believe in the project. I never had an older sister to guide me, so through these workshops I try to become the older sister of these girls,” she explains.
nCurrently, Zainab Fasiki, who detests labels and borders, is working on two more comics while continuing to organise workshops as part of Women in Power. She also hosts an online programme on sex education to which she invites experts on the subject: CH3EL DDO, which means “Turn on the lights”. “At first I wanted to do it in the cultural space where I run the workshops, but I realised that on both Tik Tok and Instagram the videos were getting huge numbers of views, since these are the tools the new generations use. In the episodes we talk about female sexuality, sexually transmitted diseases, online harassment and so on. The aim is to tackle the taboos that persist in our society. We do it with my own animated comic strips and with the participation of experts in the different fields. Another thing we do on the show is debunk false myths. Right now we’re preparing the second season.”
nMorocco and the Family Code
nIn Morocco, the Mudawana, that is, the Family Code, had not been reformed for almost 20 years, its last revision having taken place in 2004. At the request of the country’s monarch, Mohammed VI, a reform has recently begun of a law that, until now, has discriminated against women: it tolerates polygamy (although it is a residual practice in the country) and the marriage of minors (subject to prior request), and allows women to inherit less than their brothers (up to 50% less), among other things. According to the Federation of Women’s Rights Leagues (FLDF), more than 12,900 child marriages were registered in the country in 2022.
nAt the time of writing there is a draft text of the bill, but its content is not known. The need to reform the Family Code is a long-standing demand of progressive groups and feminist collectives, but also a source of division in the country, where conservative sectors still hold a great deal of power in both the political and social spheres. These have already announced mobilisations “to protect families”. Although the 2011 Constitution, approved in the context of the Arab Spring, guarantees equality between women and men, in practice this is not the case; and in rural areas inequalities between men and women are more pronounced. Despite the commitments made by Morocco in recent years to fight for gender equality and against discrimination and violence against women, there are still many challenges in terms of economic independence, political participation and access to the labour market.
nHow did your first approach to feminism come about?
nWhen I started doing an internship as an engineer, I experienced my first case of harassment by a colleague. When I mentioned it to my boss, he told me that he couldn’t be fired because they needed him. I realised how women were valued in society. We were worth nothing. It was 2019 and I started speaking out on social media and reading books. My anger came out in the form of drawings that showed women’s bodies. We never saw naked female bodies in our culture. But it’s not only a problem in Morocco, because when I’ve gone to Europe to present the translation of my book I’ve found that women had similar problems. In Spain, for example, there are still very conservative regions.
Hsouma is the title of your first book, which means “shame”. The culture of shame in society, especially as applied to women, remains deeply rooted all over the world.
nI wrote this book when I was 23 and I didn’t imagine it would spark so much controversy. At that moment I realised the difference between our sex education and men’s. We had only been taught the scientific facts, and not even that. Everything was geared towards a religious sex education in which child marriage was even discussed. In Hsouma there are two chapters: the first explains the female body from birth until death, and the second addresses sexuality; also the possibility of sex outside marriage or the LGTBQ cause. This second chapter has led to me receiving all kinds of threats. In fact, the book was written in Arabic and no publisher wanted to publish it because they didn’t want problems; so I had to translate it into French and publish it in France. At the presentations I’ve done in Europe, many Moroccan people from the LGTBQ community come, Moroccan atheists or trans people who had to leave the country. But this doesn’t only happen in my country: at my presentation in Italy there were many women who told me how the Vatican wanted to roll back their rights. The same thing happens in many other countries.
How do images work to convey a political message?
nImages have more power than text; at least in my country, where the reading rate is not very high. At first I thought about only writing, but I knew that with images I would strike a nerve; people would get angry at seeing a drawing of a clitoris, or a trans body, or a body with hair. I always thought the subject needed to be illustrated. We don’t just need to break taboos through text; we need to see them: we need to see those bodies. The real shame lies in how we see our own bodies.
Has the book been successful in Morocco?
nIt has sold, yes, because there are so many oppressed people. Many people come to the presentations almost in hiding, and that is the reality of this country. It is very difficult to defend things that should be considered ‘normal’.
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nHave you presented the book in rural areas of Morocco? Is there a difference compared with the big cities?
nThis year has marked a turning point in my professional life because I have started teaching and giving workshops in many villages. I have been working with girls and teenagers who lost their homes after last year’s earthquake, near Marrakech. Aware that I wasn’t in Casablanca or in a European city, I was careful and asked them what they wanted to draw. They immediately asked me for help because their families want to force them into marriage. They are very young girls, aged 12, 13, 14. That is how I discovered that my work is also very important in these rural areas. Some of the girls knew me from social media, because they all have mobile phones.
You have been insulted and threatened because of your work. What is it like living under these threats?
nDuring these ten years as an artist, I have not received any kind of protection from the government. I have had the opportunity to move to other countries, such as the United States or Spain, and work from there, but some time ago I decided to stay in Morocco. Working for Moroccan women from New York doesn’t interest me: I want to be here and promote change from here. This year, other feminists and I were put on a blacklist, in the name of Islam. It said that for Morocco to live in peace, we had to disappear. We reported it to the police, but we got no response, because these threats are never taken seriously. It’s true that they are investigating the author or authors of the list, but nothing more. It’s disappointing. I have friends who suffer from anxiety, but I have normalised it, although I know it isn’t normal to normalise it, if you’ll pardon the repetition. I have lost my fear and I’m at a point where I don’t care what happens. Anything could happen to me, but my comic strips will remain.
The world is experiencing a shift towards the far right and conservatism.
nIt’s terrifying. And not only that: in Saudi Arabia women are extremely oppressed, and they want us to believe otherwise. This also happens in Morocco: there is a whitewashing campaign on the occasion of the 2030 FIFA World Cup and the Government is adopting some measures, but it’s just window dressing. A few months ago a YouTuber appeared on a programme wearing a miniskirt and she was arrested. If you travel to Marrakech or other cities in the country you might think you’re in a place that is moving forward, but Morocco is still a very conservative country. What is happening in Europe is disappointing, and also very important for us, even for my publishing contracts. I have always worked with French publishers, and now Spanish ones, and the conservative turn could also affect my work.
You are illustrating a couple of books.
nThe first will be published in September and is about the daily life of a lesbian girl in Iran. It’s a real case. In Iran women are killed and imprisoned every day. These crimes against human rights are also very important for countries like Morocco, Tunisia or Algeria, because their aim is to send a message to society. In December another book will be published that is set in the medina of Fez and deals with the issue of early marriage. I’ll keep on making people angry!
Who has inspired you over these years?
nAny woman or group of women who have carried out a revolution. In the seventies the feminist movement in Morocco took great strides. There were women who were imprisoned and others who took their own lives. I was also greatly inspired by Marjane Satrapi. I had always read superhero comics, and thanks to her work I realised that I could draw comics too.
What would you say to young Moroccan women who want to be artists?
nI had many reasons to throw in the towel, and I didn’t. I have gone through periods of depression, but I have always focused on the purpose of my life, which in my case is freedom. If I am not free, is life worth living? That has been my thought every morning. If I don’t fight for my freedom, there will be no one who does.
