Essay by Nora Koutoupes Guessous

She looked up and her expression changed. Her nose scrunched up, her eyebrows pulled together, her lip began to tremble, and her eyes glistened as the tears swelled. She looked down. "He said I didn't get the job." she said. My grandma answered her silent cry. “Aw, Habibti." My love. The sweet smell of mint tea and the vivid colors of our traditional Moroccan couch suddenly faded. I observed silently as the scene unfolded beside me: the hand holding, the words of sympathy and the weak explanation took place just as they had the previous few times. It was all too familiar. It wasn’t the first time a woman was told she couldn't pursue her career. 

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