Tate’s Misogyny Meets Conservatism: The Rise of a Dangerous Alliance

A Crisis of Masculinity

A teenage Moroccan boy goes through his first heartbreak. His girlfriend has broken up with him, leaving him to grapple with feelings of shame, confusion, and anger. He scrolls aimlessly through social media, looking for a distraction, a reason, a story that makes sense of the pain. Then he finds it. A video appears on his screen - the voice is confident, the tone harsh: “Women are not loyal. They’re loyal to the highest-status male they can get. If they find a man with more money, more power, and more status, they’re gone. Feminism has ruined women and made men weak.”. 

Something clicks. The bitterness in these words feels familiar. It speaks to his wound. He keeps scrolling. A few scrolls later, a Moroccan sheikh shows up on his feed. His words are slower but no less firm: men are divinely superior, wives must submit or be disciplined, and feminism is a disease threatening to destroy Islam and the family. 

Backlash at the Heart of Morocco’s Gender Debate

Whether delivered through influencer content or religious preaching, the message is consistent and clear. Men are superior and meant to dominate. Feminism is a dangerous force attacking men, undermining religion, and threatening the structure of the traditional family. Both voices warn of a world where masculinity is under assault, and both offer a clear solution: reassert control.

This digital wave is gaining momentum at a politically charged moment. In 2022, Morocco reopened the debate on reforming the Moudawana (the Family Code enshrined in national law), focusing on issues like unequal inheritance, child custody, polygamy, and underage marriage. The announcement revived long-standing tensions over gender roles, personal status laws, and the definition of the family.

Conservative figures quickly mobilized in opposition. But something new was taking shape online. Red Pill influencers began amplifying the backlash, and their reach extended far beyond the usual conservative circles. Their message, shaped by grievance and hypermasculinity, resonated with a growing audience of young men who may not identify with traditional religious authorities, but still feel threatened by feminist demands. They are not organizing in mosques or political parties. They are organizing through algorithms.

Tate’s Legacy and the Explosion of Online Hate in Morocco

Andrew Tate was already well-known in Morocco before his 2022 conversion to Islam. His brand of hypermasculinity has resonated locally with young men searching for certainty, status, and identity. His conversion only accelerated this influence, giving it a religious legitimacy that made his message more appealing to a wider audience. 

In a context where critical digital literacy remains low, these narratives are rarely questioned. Instead, they are quickly internalized and repeated.

As a result, a new wave of self-proclaimed “coaches” and “sheikhs”, has taken over Moroccan social media, borrowing Andrew Tate’s tone and monetization strategies. They’ve also adapted his style to the local context, infusing it with Islamic vocabulary to endow it with social and cultural credibility. 

This convergence has turned online spaces into fertile ground for hostility and hate speech. The growing alliance between Red Pill followers and conservative religious voices is producing a discourse that aggressively polices gender roles, relationships, and women’s autonomy.

Language that used to be confined to obscure parts of the internet have become mainstream. Terms like “Hmida Settar” mock men who marry women with a sexual history, portraying them as weak for "covering" a woman’s shame. “Dyouth” (cuckold), refers to men who allow their wives to work, especially alongside male supervisors or colleagues. These terms have become commonplace in masculinist insults in the comment sections of social media posts. These terms were once a marginal lexicon, but are now part of everyday digital conversation.

How Moroccan Feminists Are Navigating the Digital Backlash

Moroccan women’s rights activists have laid the foundation for today’s Moudawana reform through decades of sustained advocacy. The work of groups like the Union de l’Action Féminine (UAF) – including major mobilizations such as the “One Million Signatures” campaign - culminated in the 2004 reform, which raised the legal marriage age to 18 and expanded women’s rights in regard to marriage, divorce, and custody. 

Since 2023, feminist voices have re-emerged in national debates to demand stronger protections against polygamy and gender-based injustice. Their activism has gone beyond legal advocacy to reshape public discourse in powerful ways. Artists like Zainab Fasiki challenge taboos and amplify feminist voices through bold visual storytelling and comics. Digital platforms like JawJab and Sawt use humor and satire to critique societal norms and spark conversations on gender. Meanwhile, Machi Rojola offers a safe space for men to reflect on masculinity and confront toxic behaviors through personal stories and interviews.

At the same time, thinkers like Asma Lamrabet & Ahmed Assid advocate for Islamic feminism. They interpret religious texts and traditions in ways that challenge mainstream patriarchal renderings.

While Morocco’s feminist movements have led the fight for change, King Mohammed VI has also played a role in moving things forward. In his 2022 Throne Speech, He urged legal and religious authorities to revise the Family Code in line with Islamic principles of justice and equality, showing that gender equality and Islam do not have to clash, but can coexist through thoughtful reinterpretation rooted in Islam’s core values.

From Tension to Transformation

To address growing gender tensions in Morocco, especially amidst the ongoing debates about the Moudawana reform, a multi-layered response is urgently needed.

Positive male role models must be supported and safe spaces created where young men can express their vulnerability without falling into the trap of toxic masculinity. Progressive influencers must unpack Red Pill arguments with empathy, recognizing that many are reacting to real social pressures. 

At the same time, Moroccan society needs to challenge the idealization of traditional marriage and the Red Pill narratives that reinforce it. One way to achieve this is to amplify the testimonies of women oppressed by these patriarchal norms, exposing the realities behind these ideals. Social media platforms should also give greater voice to couples building healthy relationships outside the confines of this traditional framework.

There must also be a sincere commitment from religious authorities, both in Morocco and beyond, to promote interpretations of Islam that are grounded in justice and equality. For some audiences, an Islamic feminism that is rooted in compassion and that motivates ethical reinterpretation can be a powerful tool to bridge tradition and progress.

NGOs should equip themselves with practical communication strategies to clarify that feminism is not a war against men, but a collective effort to build a more just and balanced society. They should enhance their online presence using accessible, relatable content to counter misogyny and misinformation.

Finally, Morocco should integrate structured critical thinking and media literacy into schools, youth centers, and civil society programs, so that the next generation has the tools to think independently and navigate an increasingly complex digital world.

The views expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung.