Bouchra

A cup of tea and a decision that was not a choice

My mother and sister were hiding in a small room. I was called to bring tea. That was my moment. My chance to look at him for a moment. And then I had to say: yes or no. But actually… of course I never really had a choice.
I was fifteen when my father decided to emigrate back to Morocco. Leaving me behind in the Netherlands was not an option. Nor was taking me with him. In Morocco, he said, I would not be allowed to leave the house.
So I had to get married. That was my future.

From negotiation to prison

Men came by. Lots of them. I rejected them all. Until one came along with crooked teeth and who smelled overly of perfume. I called him “Creep”. The man didn’t have his papers in order, so he didn’t meet my father’s conditions. I said casually, ‘He’s a nice man, really…’ I shouldn’t have said that. My father came unexpectedly with the announcement, ‘This is the one.’ When I protested, he threatened to hurt my mother. And she was everything to me. I had to marry him.
On my wedding night, someone called to ask if there was any blood. The cloth was collected. Proof of my virginity. All I could think was, ‘This can’t be my life.’

Surviving in silence

The years that followed are a blur. Drowned in arguments, sadness, shame. I was just a child. And pregnant. My nightmare became reality. Thanks to a social worker at school, I got help. I had a secret abortion. Without anaesthesia. A receipt for this procedure in my coat pocket gave me away. He searched my belongings. He wanted to tell my father, but luckily my sister and brother-in-law stopped him. After years of humiliation, violence and threats, I fled. I was exhausted. Empty. But I also knew that if I stayed, I would die.

My father came unexpectedly with the announcement, ‘This is the one.’ When I protested, he threatened to hurt my mother.

Leaving was only the beginning

I spent the first week on the streets. No home, no family. Fortunately, I quickly managed to find a place to live. I discovered that, in addition to rent, you also have to pay for gas and electricity. How was I supposed to know? People I barely knew took me in. And slowly, through trial and error, I started over. I cried a lot. But I also thought: ‘Pull yourself together. Keep going.’
It was only much later that I found out that what had happened to me had a name. Forced marriage. Abuse. Until then, I thought it was my fault.

Why this story needs to be told

There are still girls like me. Who think it’s normal. That it’s part of life. Or that it’s your own fault. It’s not. I want my story to be heard. Not for myself, but for those who are going through it right now. Because sometimes… all you need is someone to say: I believe you. I see you. You are not alone.
In that marriage, something else became clear to me. I always call it my curse and my blessing: I am attracted to women. This made me feel even more alone. Alienated. As if I was doubly wrong. And now? I am married. To the woman of my life. Two children. A different life. And yet… there are wounds and scars that will never disappear. But I’m alive. I’m still here. And I have the right to be happy.

Bouchra’s message to others

Follow your heart. Stay alert. When you see an opportunity, seize it. You may only get one chance. And if you can escape, do it. Because no matter how hard it is, there is life after hell. My voice is clear. Soft at times. But undeniably powerful. And if you are now where I was then, believe me, you are stronger than you think.