Blog 3: Sexual Orientation or Gender Roles

When I think back on our days in Morocco, I struggle to pick a picture for this blog post because oddly enough, I keep searching for someone who was often difficult for me to find.

Women.

Not because they were absent, but because I realized I had started noticing what appeared to be their absence in many of the spaces we moved through. Walking through the Medina, visiting markets, eating in cafés and restaurants, and riding buses from city to city, I suddenly found myself looking around and noticing that most of the visible faces working around us were men. Men preparing food, men selling goods, men negotiating prices, men leading conversations. The moments I most frequently encountered women were often in quieter places such as the restroom, where women sat or worked cleaning facilities, accepting small tips from visitors as part of their income.

And suddenly, I found myself paying attention not just to who was there, but to who I was looking for.

For this reflection, I found myself thinking about the identity of women in Moroccan society and the broader issue of how visibility and influence do not always mean the same thing. Around the world, women often navigate expectations shaped by culture, family, and social norms. Sociologists have long suggested that many of our understandings of gender are not innate but socially learned through culture, family, and repeated experiences (West & Zimmerman, 1987). While women may hold significant influence within families and communities, that influence may not always be equally visible in public-facing spaces or leadership roles.

Growing up in the Philippines as the oldest daughter raised by a single mother, I was raised with expectations that seemed to come naturally with being a girl. I was expected to help care for others, to be responsible, to set an example, and to carry responsibilities that often felt larger than my age. Looking back, I realize those expectations were so ingrained into my everyday life that I rarely questioned them. They simply felt normal.

But travel has a way of making the familiar visible.

As our class explored ideas surrounding culture, identity, and authentic leadership, I found myself thinking less about what I was seeing in Morocco and more about the lenses I bring with me. I wondered whether I was noticing gender differently because of my own experiences as a daughter, wife, mother, immigrant, naturalized citizen, and woman working in agriculture and higher education, in spaces where women continue to navigate expectations and underrepresentation.

Motherhood especially reshaped how I think about roles and expectations. My own journey into becoming a mother did not follow what many people picture as a traditional path. My husband and I adopted our son Daniel, whom I first met through my work as a 4-H agent. Becoming his mom taught me that family, caregiving, and identity often do not fit neatly into categories society creates. Some of the most meaningful relationships in our lives are built through choice, commitment, and love rather than expectations. Sadly, not everyone sees it that way. I still get the occasional "but you're not really a mom" or "you wouldn't understand because you didn't raise him as a baby" comments, which hurts deeper than any infertility issues.

As I reflected more, I realized motherhood itself can look different from person to person. For some, like me, motherhood may come through adoption. For others, it may mean becoming a step-parent or bonus parent and choosing daily to love children who did not come into their lives by birth. For others, caregiving may take different forms altogether, even through nurturing pets and intentionally creating a family that looks different from traditional expectations. Research increasingly recognizes that family structures and caregiving roles have become more diverse and socially complex over time (Ganong & Coleman, 2017).

Before writing this post, I realized I did not want to make assumptions based only on my observations, so I planned to ask Jalal and Dr. Fouad Rachidi about the women in their lives, their mothers, significant others, or the women who raised them, and how they view women's roles in their own experiences. Authentic leadership asks us to do more than observe. It asks us to remain curious.

This morning before leaving the hotel, I found myself continuing to notice what I had been quietly paying attention to throughout the trip. During breakfast, I watched a woman preparing dough for one of the Moroccan breakfast pastries somewhat resembling a crepe. As I watched her work, I mentioned my observations to Dr. Fouad Rachidi and shared that I had noticed men seemed more visible in many of the public spaces we had visited.

He smiled and gently challenged my assumption.

He explained that what I had observed may have simply been coincidence and reminded me that women in Morocco hold many roles throughout society. Women are doctors, lawyers, teachers, business owners, and professionals across numerous fields (F. Rachidi, personal communication, May 19, 2026). That conversation immediately reminded me of an important lesson: observation alone does not always tell the whole story.

Wanting to understand more, I asked him about the women in his own life, particularly his mother. He shared that both his mother and his wife had passed away. As he spoke about them, his tone shifted. He spoke of them with deep admiration and respect and told me that mothers are truly the heart of the family. Then he smiled and added something that made me laugh: according to him, mothers are also the brains of the family (F. Rachidi, personal communication, May 19, 2026). He explained that while it may appear that men are making decisions publicly, many decisions begin at home with mothers and wives influencing the direction of the family long before anyone else sees it. If my husband could hear our conversation, I know he would agree wholeheartedly.

One part of our conversation especially stayed with me. Dr. Rachidi shared that if a mother and father spoke different languages, for example, a father speaking Berber and a mother speaking Arabic, children often learn the language of their mother. He connected this idea to the phrase “mother tongue” (F. Rachidi, personal communication, May 19, 2026).

And suddenly I found myself returning to a thought I could not shake.

Perhaps at the heart of many stories, cultures, and families, there is a mother.

Whether through birth, adoption, marriage, or caregiving, the role itself leaves a lasting imprint. I know this because even at 37 years old, with all the responsibilities adulthood brings, when I am sick or exhausted, or struggling to find a bus for summer camp while I am away on a study abroad trip, my first instinct is still the same: I want my mommy.

Morocco has taught me many things in my short time here. I arrived expecting to learn about agriculture, leadership, and culture. Instead, I found myself learning just as much about perspective. Reflecting on women’s roles in Morocco reminded me that identities are often more layered than our first observations suggest. Sometimes understanding a place does not begin with the things we immediately see. Sometimes it begins with noticing who we see, who we do not see, and having enough humility and curiosity to ask why.

References

Ganong, L., & Coleman, M. (2017). Stepfamily relationships: Development, dynamics, and interventions (2nd ed.). Springer.

West, C., & Zimmerman, D. H. (1987). Doing gender. Gender & Society, 1(2), 125–151.