Chayma Rachdi Mennana: "I took off my hijab at 13 because I was being bullied."

BarcelonaShe says she was a quiet child, but now, at 24, no one can silence her. Chayma Rachdi Mennana, born in the La Mina neighborhood, is the daughter of a Moroccan couple and has made the defense of diversity and human rights a personal and collective struggle, to the point of working professionally in various organizations. Currently, she is a technician for the Prometeus project, which promotes equal opportunities for teenagers from vulnerable neighborhoods to pursue higher education. She herself was one of those students they supported and motivated until she reached the humanities.

What is your family history?

— My parents came separately from Morocco and met here, and I grew up in that intercultural environment, between Catalan culture and my parents' culture. I've always been involved in the community, in associations in La Mina.

Where does that concern come from?

— It largely stems from the values ​​I have at home. I come from a family that has always told me I should be proud of who I am. But then, the reality outside the home is constant pointing fingers, constant stigma. I was hurt a lot. bullying At school, it was horrible. And the strength I found at home and what I experienced outside led me, over time, to transform that pain—both my own and that of the community—into a way of creating community, and spaces of care and visibility for racialized people or those from segregated neighborhoods.

When did you realize that yours was a migrant family, a minority family?

— As a child, I was constantly asked where I was from, even though I'm Catalan. I realized I was in the minority when I was insulted at school and told, "Moor, you don't play with us because you're a Moor." Children repeat the patterns they see at home or in society. And that's when I first realized I was "the other," that I was different.

So, is it a very natural reaction to turn to activism?

— It stems from a need to protect yourself and your community, to change the narrative. Those of us who speak out about our rights are simply claiming what is rightfully ours. It arises from the need to make things visible and change them because they aren't working well. I've transformed everything I suffered as a child into a way to heal.

What is cohesion?

— It has to be a two-way process. My father always said, "I've been a Cotico resident since the 90s; my children study here and celebrate our local festivals." But it seems that to be accepted, you have to abandon parts of your identity. When I go to Morocco, I miss Barcelona because it's also part of my culture. This barrier is often not something we create ourselves; it's created by others. If your goal is for things to be calmer and safer, and you achieve it by pointing the finger at someone else, provoking violence and anger, you create the opposite of what you want.

What is the last racist or Islamophobic attack you have suffered?

— The last, but not the worst, incident occurred after the Torre Pacheco riots. I was speaking Arabic on the phone with my father when a girl started shouting at me: "Go back to your country, you piece of shit!"

Where does Islamophobia come from?

— There is a mixture of fear and ignorance fueled by the media and political discourse that has associated Muslims with terrorism.

The debate and Islamophobia are largely focused on Muslim women. I imagine she's been asked a thousand times why she doesn't wear a veil.

— Many people—and I find it funny because it's a personal question, but they want me to represent all women—are constantly questioning Muslim women, singling them out in the name of supposed feminism or a supposed right. They tell me that because I don't wear it, I'm a modern woman, and I know many girls much more modern than me who do wear it.

Does it bother you that women's inability to make decisions is taken for granted?

— The debate about the veil is often conducted without listening to Muslim women, but freedom isn't about telling a woman what to do with her body. I wore a veil when I was 13 because I enjoyed it, but I stopped because I was being harassed. bullyingMy father told me it was better if I took it off because I was suffering a lot. The veil doesn't make you less or more Muslim. Muslim women are often used as political or media tools.

Are women the target of Islamophobia?

— They've turned us into puppets to win votes, to create a sensation, to exoticize us. It's an infantilization of women with the hijab, as if there weren't women with their own opinions, highly educated women, women throughout history who have proven it. The first university in the world was founded in Fez by a Muslim woman, Fatima al-Fihris. And she wore a hijab. The hijab covers your hair, but not your brain.