“I was born in a harem in 1940 in Fez, Morocco…” thus begins Fatma Mernissi’s stereotype-busting account of her remarkable childhood.  Mernissi is a renowned Moroccan feminist and academic — her book has long been a favorite of mine.  Now I am in Morocco,  six days into what will be a four month stay, leading a journalism program which will pair American college students with Moroccan students at the University of Mohammad V to jointly report on a country where, just this week, three young college graduates set themselves on fire to protest the lack of jobs.

I’ve rented a house in the heart of Rabat’s 14^th century Medina, not unlike the one Mernissi grew up in (though, in the case of my house, its former grandeur has faded, as the Medina went from a bourgeois neighborhood to one that’s mostly middle or lower middle class).  That said, the gorgeous tile and plaster are intact along with the house’s prison-like qualities, designed to keep women sequestered from the public sphere.  It is disconcerting to be in a house without windows.  There’s a lovely rooftop but with high walls preventing a view of the street.  From the roof one sees the sky and the occasional satellite dish and mosque minaret.

Still, I am reminded that Mernessi’s book reveals a rich world on the roof, ruled by women, which created a remarkable sisterhood.  Perhaps it was that sisterhood we saw on the streets of Rabat this week, protesting the lack of women in Morocco’s new parliament.