Aicha: Soraya Bouazzaoui's fierce novel of colonial violence, female rage and Moroccan resistance
By Shahed Ezaydi, The New Arab, 11 February 2026
Book Club: 'Aicha' is a haunting debut that blends Moroccan folklore, anti-colonial resistance and female rage into a powerful story of grief, love & rebellion
Female rage has always fascinated me as a concept; in TV, film, books, you name it. Rage is seen as a deeply masculine and negative trait, but women get angry, too. And often.
Seeing other women not only feel rage (particularly in the face of oppression) but express it openly and passionately is a catharsis for so many of us, myself included. So, when I came across Soraya Bouazzaoui's debut novel, Aicha, I was already intrigued before I had even turned to page one.
That intrigue turned to obsession as I quickly inhaled the chapters of this brilliant, heartbreaking and rage-inducing story.
Set against the backdrop of the Portuguese occupation of Morocco, this book follows Aicha, the daughter of a Moroccan freedom fighter, who was born and trained for battle.
Over the years, she has witnessed the death of her people, their starvation and torture at the hands of the occupiers, and it has awakened a rage within her. A rage that burns hot and bright, and speaks directly to Aicha's soul.
Only Aicha's lover, Rachid, a rebellion leader, knows how to calm her down. But as the fight for Morocco's freedom reaches a violent climax, the creature that simmers inside Aicha is desperate to be released. She wonders if unleashing the supernatural force that fuels her rage is the key to enacting the revenge she craves so much.
A window into Moroccan history
The story draws on Moroccan history and folklore, where Aicha is a significant 16th-century mythological warrior goddess in anti-colonial resistance.
She had been the daughter of a freedom fighter and battled alongside Moroccan rebels to push the Portuguese out of their homeland.
For the past few years, many of the popular mythological retellings have been based on Greek mythology. Think books like Circe, Ariadne and The Silence of the Girls. So, it's refreshing to see a book divert from this trend and tells a different kind of story.
Fantasy and fiction play a huge role in educating many of us about parts of history we might not be aware of, and that's what Aicha did for me. It's a story that provides a much-needed window into Moroccan history, especially its resistance to the Portuguese colonising forces and the folklore and mythology that developed during that time period.
However, my favourite part about the novel is Aicha herself. She may appear unlikable to some readers, but to me, it's that very unlikability and imperfection that made me warm to her and what she wanted to achieve so desperately for her people.
She feels her emotions deeply and fiercely, and isn't exactly shy or discreet about them. Be that her unwavering loyalty for her people, her burning passion for justice and her boundless love for her family — her sister Samira and her father — and her lover, Rachid.
Yes, she's stubborn, quick to anger and constantly moody, but she also wants to be and do good, even if her methods can be a little reckless. The pursuit of goodness, in contrast to the resistance to succumbing to the creature within her, sits at the heart of Aicha as a character and of the wider story.
Love amidst turmoil
The love and romance between Aicha and Rachid are also beautiful parts of this story. Amid the tension and pace of the plot, the calmness and softness that Aicha reserves for Rachid offer the reader a glimpse of another, more delicate side of her. A side that may seem at odds with how she is with others, but adds to the nuance and complexity of a woman like Aicha.
And Rachid complements her character brilliantly with his quiet but fierce devotion to her and their relationship. It's an important reminder that even during times of war, conflict and violence, people can still find pockets of joy, love and hope in each other.
Aicha is packed with love and rage, but the novel's common thread is grief. Under the Portuguese occupation, there's a collective and national grief for the Moroccan homeland that's been colonised by external forces.
Then there's Aicha's raw and devastating grief for the people she's lost in battle, but also the loss of who she is as a person and her identity as the creature within her takes over.
And it's through this heavy emotion that Aicha poses the question: are monsters inherently evil, or are they a product of grief and being pushed to the very edge until they hit the breaking point? It's a question I found myself pondering long after I'd turned the last page of the book.
Soraya Bouazzaoui's debut is both brilliantly heartbreaking and hopeful, and that's quite a feat to achieve in a single novel.
The author's writing in Aicha makes you feel and embody the heartbreak and grief of Aicha and her people as they battle against a brutal occupation and lose loved ones along the way.
But it also inspires hope in the resistance of a people who, despite the heavy loss and grief, continue to fight to reclaim and protect their homeland — at whatever cost.
Author
Shahed is a writer and editor, specialising in features and reporting on culture, social issues and feminism. She's also the author of The Othered Woman: How White Feminism Harms Muslim Women, which is her debut book.
Disclaimer
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of CEMAS editorial team.
