Thugs at the workspace — Muslim women's safety

Warsan Garrow
6 min readApr 4, 2022

To raise a man, not a twat

Internationally owned company.

An agency approached me to work for this company.

During the second interview, I noticed something was off. I had seen that the West-Indian "Brown" woman had problems with me being myself. She let me know that -in HER CULTURE- women are not allowed to venture on their own.

I have got some overseas work experience on my resume. I am allowed to do that.

Then, she continued to say that she, a woman in her 30ties, was confined in a tiny apartment with many others.

In my head, if you do not like something, change it.

Nevertheless, I am open-minded, and my attitude has always been to accept people and situations. Also, to respect that.

On day one, we took a stroll through the office, introduced to everyone outside of 'our team' by the Haïtian manager.

I passed the Moroccan guy, and his team of 3 young white co-workers stared after me. The Moroccan would lean back a little and make an –OEEEE! — gesture with his lips — talking about my behind.

They would stare at the women in the office every time they passed. Oddly, the West-Indian "Brown" woman and the negroïd would wiggle with their behinds when passing these guys. They both had significantly large bottoms. But delusional or afraid of a mirror.

The average pants size for women in the Netherlands is a whopping size 12! I do not come close.

The short Spanish man would come up to me and ask me questions about my work experience overseas. I thought he was just curious. I would tell him about it. He would walk off, and as he did that, he would nod his head towards where the Moroccan was seated.

I understood what was going on but kept my distance.

Still, on day one, a red-headed Dutch guy that finally found a friend in the Moroccan tried to engage in conversation with me a few times. I know this redheads' desk is close to the customer service team. His questions to me were all a bit fishy. He would try to get information about my living situation, where I lived, etc. In this case, I kept it vague and on the surface.

End of the first day –I engaged in a conversation with other colleagues discussing how the day went. Behind me, the black manager stands staring at me, with his arms crossed, chatting with a guy from another department.

As I walked out of the office, the Redhead started talking to me again. We talk about stuff on the news. My Haitian manager walks up to me and says, "Be careful with this guy. He likes women with an apple bottom." — — — — I smiled awkwardly and told him I would.

Redhead offers me a lift to the bus stop. I refuse. Instead, I walked to the bus with an elderly male co-worker.

Day 2; It is normal to ask people how their weekend was in my mind. Some co-workers started to giggle on this particular Monday after the weekend. I thought it was weird, but OK.

The White Dutch mother of adult children would joke about how she had spiderwebs growing in her private parts throughout that day because she hadn't had any action in a while.

An incredibly embarrassing situation. This woman, almost 50-year old, was the only one that laughed at her joke. During these "turbulent 4-days", she also cried on the job because her boyfriend broke things off.

Another time, a Dutch woman would sing a suggestive Shakira world anthem song whenever she passed me.

The negroïd Islander woman would say things to me like, "The boss looks good today." I would inform Haïten about what she said as he did not understand her. I would also tell him that SHE was into him.

This pitiful black woman came up to tell me; her previous manager was a Moroccan woman.

While she is saying this, she seeks validation from the Moroccan man, who is now somewhat embarrassed and looks down.

She had researched me and found that I had worked as a manager once. So what, right?

Context; Moroccans propagate that they had enslaved Africans and that the Somalis were somehow part of this.

The negro finds solace in the idea of the Somali having been part of the slave trade. Moroccans do not think much of blacks in general.

She does not understand that. And as if he cares about her, but they connect.

Aware of my history, I refute allegations of them enslaving the Somalis. That offends them.

Thus, I would now compete with the Moroccans next to the Asians.

Such is life.

Tuesday, I speak up about specific behaviours. Address it on my department; this was the woman with the spiderwebs and the negroïd Islander.

They laugh, tell me I am assertive, and not worry about it.

HR tells me I probably misunderstood the things said because French was not my first language.

I reminded myself why I had spent most of my adult life outside this country.

Wednesday arrived. I found out why my co-workers were giggly after asking them how their weekend was on Monday. The Redhead had told everyone he had a good weekend with me. Dutch sense of humour; is disgraceful.

I was livid!

I only engaged in conversation with Redhead because he was a co-worker; it was to be polite; I had to. And even though this was brief. He was the son of someone with no spiderwebs growing in her private parts.

I was appalled.

He, a customer service agent, a white male, with all his privileges, had crossed a line. He was vulgar.

The HR women were in on it.

The EU I grew up in was not like this, and these were not the same people. I am ugly, fat but cute enough to be on Instagram and have a good weekend with the Redhead.

My husband was not around, so I took matters into my own hands. I confronted them. As a fistfight almost broke out, I regretted wearing a long skirt to work that day. Unfriendly words fell.

In today's world, feminine White males with adult brains are polluted by thugs who have made their way to the office floor — thugs with absolute zero respect for women. Now weak White men are trying to out-tough these thugs and con artists in the workplace.

I do not understand why this happened.

I wrote my book as a consequence of previous events. Long before my comments on YT.

We live in a democracy where everyone is FREE to express their thoughts. My ideas do not harm anyone.

I had demonstrated a lack of interest in the people at this workplace. Was it my boundaries that offended them? My clothes or my sense of independence?

What was expected of me here is beyond me. Must I act a fool to get along?

People are afraid to take a stance against others.

I am not obliged to speak about my private life at work. You are my co-worker. Not all women are alike; not all of us cry at work about husbands and boyfriends.

Suppose you have issues and think women with solid opinions post their ideas for you. Or they are expressing their views because they are looking for a husband. Then something is wrong with you, and you should seek professional help.



Warsan Garrow

Observer, Critical Thinker, General Enthusiast & Passionate writer❣ My work is intended for educational purposes | warsangarrow.