Commentary- What Feminist Groups Want from the Moudawana Reform—And Why It Can’t Wait

As members of the T-HIYA collective, we write in response to the open letter addressed to the Head of Government by the Coordination féministe pour la refonte du Code de la famille, compelled to engage not only with the debate it raises but with the urgent struggle it embodies. We align ourselves with this call not simply out of solidarity, but out of necessity: at a moment when the reform of the Moudawana remains stalled, we are led to question the persistence of resistance—not only to legal change, but to equality itself. Why, despite decades of mobilisation, evidence, and lived realities, does the demand for justice within the family continue to encounter hesitation, delay, and silence? Does equality still provoke such fear—fear of a society in which women are fully emancipated and recognised as equal citizens? What, ultimately, is being defended, and at what cost?

As the mandate of the current government draws to a close, the reform of the Moudawana returns with renewed urgency. What was once framed as a major structural reform now appears suspended in political inertia. As the Coordination féministe pour la refonte du Code de la famille underlines, “we are only a few months away from the end of the current government’s term”, yet there is still no clarity on “the outcome of the draft Family Code law” that the head of government was tasked with supervising. This gap between commitment and delivery raises serious questions about accountability.

Far from being a simple delay, the reform has been consistently deferred. The Coordination notes that it has “received no information… on the procedural measures taken” following the committee’s work, denouncing this as “a failure to respect constitutional procedures” and an “unjustified disregard for announced deadlines.” This transforms silence into a political issue. It is not merely the absence of communication, but a form of governance that produces uncertainty and diffuses responsibility.

Against this, feminist mobilisation emerges as a counter-force. By making this silence visible, it challenges the normalisation of delay and insists on public accountability. The reform of the Moudawana was intended, as the Coordination recalls, to respond to “social transformations” and to provide “fair and equitable solutions” to problems rooted in “injustice and discrimination.” Yet the continued absence of legislative progress contradicts these objectives.

The Family Code is not simply a legal framework regulating private life; it is a key site where inequalities are reproduced or contested. Its reform is therefore inseparable from the lived realities of those affected by discriminatory provisions.

Recent data reinforces this urgency. Drawing on the 2025 national family survey, the Coordination points to a “decline in the protective and solidaristic roles of the Moroccan family,” alongside an increase in nuclear families, a decrease in intergenerational cohabitation, and rising vulnerability indicators. In particular, the letter highlights the growing number of “female-headed households and single-parent families.”

These transformations reveal a widening gap between social realities and a legal framework grounded in older hierarchies. The persistence of discriminatory provisions becomes increasingly untenable in a context where the structures that once sustained them are themselves shifting. As the Coordination argues, there is a need for the state to “assume its responsibilities in terms of protection and equity” and to move away from “concepts of guardianship and hierarchy of social roles.”

This raises a critical question, explicitly posed in the letter: the existence of “a real political will to carry out this legislative reform.” The delay suggests a pattern in which commitments to equality remain largely symbolic. The Coordination goes further, arguing that “the promotion of women’s rights and the establishment of equality within families… are not among [the government’s] political priorities.”

Understanding delay as political choice rather than technical difficulty recentres accountability. The consequences are not abstract: they are felt daily by those affected by discriminatory legal provisions, particularly women and vulnerable family configurations.

At a time marked by economic precarity and social change, the absence of reform exacerbates inequalities. The law risks reinforcing vulnerabilities instead of mitigating them. The broad coalition of feminist and human rights organisations behind this intervention further underscores that this is not a marginal demand, but a collective one rooted in longstanding struggles for justice.

The Coordination’s position is unequivocal: it “rejects this unacceptable politico-legislative procrastination” and calls on the government to present the draft law “before the end of its mandate.” The debate is no longer about whether reform is necessary, but why it continues to be postponed.

Today, this question is more urgent than ever. As the Coordination emphasises, the reform must respond to “profound transformations” and address the “injustice and discrimination perpetuated by the current code.” The longer it is delayed, the more these inequalities deepen and normalise.

With the end of the governmental mandate approaching, postponement risks pushing reform indefinitely into the future. The silence surrounding this process becomes a structural delay with real consequences. At the same time, the social trends identified—rising vulnerability, the increase in single-parent families, and the erosion of traditional solidarities—make clear that the law is already lagging behind reality.

When legal frameworks fail to evolve, they no longer protect; they exclude. Acting now, as the Coordination demands, is therefore not simply a procedural necessity. It is a matter of justice. The costs of delay are borne daily by those navigating unequal legal structures.

More than ever, the reform of the Moudawana is a test of whether commitments to equality can be translated into action. It reminds us that legal reform is inseparable from broader struggles for accountability, dignity, and social justice—and that silence, when maintained, is itself a political position.

Source: Egalité Mag