The Unexpected Freedom of Getting Scrubbed Naked in Marrakesh

My 29th birthday arrived in December 2001, right after the world had irrevocably changed. My husband and I were visiting my brother in Marrakesh, Morocco, and as a special gift—a combined effort from my brother and husband—I was given a spa package at a beautiful local retreat.

The timing felt significant: I was newly pregnant with my first child, a little off-balance, and still navigating a world that felt scary and uncertain right after 9/11. I desperately needed a dose of self-care. I imagined soft music, cucumber water, and quiet contemplation. My brother, however, highly encouraged one particular service: the Hammam. Little did I know, I was about to have an experience that would redefine the word "relaxation" and teach me more about freedom than any therapy session could.

The Marble Chamber and the European Models

I arrived at the spa and was ushered into the marble-encased room. The hammam is a spectacle of heat and steam, a place where the walls weep and the air hangs thick and heavy. Following the instructions for the steam session, I entered the room completely naked.

As a pregnant woman, already feeling awkward about my changing body, what I saw next was a full-on comedy sketch: The room was full of women—all of them, I kid you not, looked like European models, lounging languidly on the warm marble slabs as if they were posing for a high-fashion shoot.

The spa attendants, sensing my confusion, kindly brought in a small white plastic chair for me. So there I sat, pregnant and self-conscious, perched on my white throne, looking less like a goddess and more like a sweaty, anxious Buddha while the supermodels steamed around me. I tried to relax, but mostly I just sweated, my expectations dissolving into the mist.

The Shock and the Surrender

After nearly melting, the real service began. Two strong Moroccan women entered and motioned for me to stand. They began to scrub me from head to toe with an exfoliating mitt.

Now, I had never, in my adult life, been bathed by another human being. To be suddenly and vigorously scrubbed, naked, by two strangers while pregnant and still reeling from the culture shock, was literally a moment of paralysis. I was in total shock. Is this happening? Am I standing in the center of a two-woman car wash?

Then came the rinsing. The women grabbed large pitchers, dipped them into a small pool of water, and began to throw them over me. It wasn't a gentle pour; it was a violent, full-force deluge. I felt like I was being hit by a wall of water—repeatedly—until I was thoroughly clean and looked, as I recall, like a very wet dog.

Handing me a very small, very dry towel, they then ushered me into another room to lay down and relax. And as I lay there, finally catching my breath, the profound lesson of the Hammam washed over me.

Finding Freedom in the Discomfort

I went into that experience expecting quiet music, scented oils, and the delicate, relaxing spa time I was accustomed to. What I got was an aggressive, steamy, embarrassing, and totally public bathing ritual. Yet, despite all the discomfort and awkwardness, I felt utterly refreshed and clean. More importantly, I felt free.

That whole experience was a microcosm of life itself:

We walk into new situations with a detailed, beautiful expectation—the quiet music, the soft lighting—and often, life hands us the white plastic chair, the aggressive scrub, and the violent pitcher of water.

It's in those moments that we have a choice: We can stay locked in our shock and self-consciousness, clinging to how we thought things should be. Or, like I eventually did with the two women scrubbing me down, we can surrender.

True freedom isn't about perfectly curating our environment to match our comfort zone. It’s about loosening our grip on what we expect, learning to stand still in the awkward heat, and trusting the process—even when that process involves a full-body public exfoliation. It’s in that letting go that we find our greatest peace.

Sometimes, you have to be thoroughly scrubbed and rinsed by a wall of water to realize you’re going to be okay.

©Lisa King, MS, LPC, NCC