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