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Ilhem

Ilhem

Sorry, I couldn't add both videos in the same post.

 

 

Now, cultural transmission can be a heavy weight. I've been very, very lucky that nothing has ever been imposed on me, and that my families fom both sides of the Mediterranean always got along. Idir tells a slang written by Grand Corps Malade, a letter to everybody's daughter that is a treasure of compassion, love and understanding for girls and fathers, and a shout out for freedom. I suck at translating, and I wish I could do it justice, but here it is.

 

 

Letter to my daughter 



You walked past the mirror like every morning

Adjusted this veil on your hair that will have to hold until tonight

You said goodbye with a glance before leaving the house

The bus brings you to the university where you’re building yourself a horizon

 

I stayed unmoving, thinking hard about you

Realizing the tremendous joy of having you living under my roof

It’s true I never told, neither loud nor low,

But you know, my daughter, that there are things that can’t be told

 

I did my best to raise you, and I’ve always been careful

To perpetuate rules, to respect traditions

Like my parents did

Like all these men I meet at the mosque do.

 

I did my best to raise you like everyone else in our people does

But was it for your own good? Or to do like everyone else?

All those doubts that are arising, and this awful question :

I did raise you, only are you happy?

 

I know I am stern, and there are many prohibitions :

You come back home straight from school, and you never go out on saturdays

But the more time passes, the less I can erase this thought :

“ What do you think about in your room, when your friends go dancing?”

 

Everybody’s proud of you, you’ve always been a good pupil

But did we see a smile on your lips often enough?

I’m wondering all this, but never in front of you

You know my daughter, that there are things that can’t be told

 

What if we decided that right-minded people should stay quiet?

What if we forgot for one moment those conventions that are a weight?

What if, for once, you were allowed to do what you want

What if, for once, you could release your hair

 

I want you to shout, and to sing to the world’s face!

I want you to let bloom those pleasures that are flooding in you

I want you to go out, I want you to laugh, I want you to talk about love

I want you to be allowed to be twenty

At least for a few days

 

I’ve needed courage to confide my feelings

But I’m writing this letter so that you know, simply,

That I love you like crazy, even if you can’t see it

You know my daughter, that there are things that can’t be told