At Casablanca’s French Alpine Club: “It Started With Comments About My Body, About My Butt”

Several members of the French Alpine Club of Casablanca have reported sexist comments, unwanted touching, late-night messages, and being pushed out after setting boundaries. Their accounts follow an internal petition challenging the absence of women from a route-development course, and raise broader questions about power within the club’s climbing section.

(cc) Brook Anderson / Unsplash

Since 2020, several women connected to the climbing section of the French Alpine Club of Casablanca say they have experienced or witnessed troubling behavior. Some still belong to the club; others have left. Not all of them know one another. Their accounts come in addition to an internal petition challenging the absence of women from a route-development course in Merzouga, a village in southeastern Morocco. The French Alpine Club of Casablanca, known as CAF Casablanca, is an association governed by Moroccan law and affiliated with the French Federation of Alpine and Mountain Clubs, or FFCAM. In Casablanca, its climbing section is the city’s only organized climbing facility. Members go there to climb, learn technical skills, take outdoor trips, gain access to club outings, and improve within a community setting. For this investigation, Vertige Media spoke with roughly 10 people connected to the climbing section, including seven women, and reviewed documents, screenshots, and internal communications.

Access, Power, and Silence

Aminah*, a former member, says she left CAF Casablanca in August 2024 after four years of climbing there regularly. The atmosphere had become unbearable, she says. “I tried not to think about it too much and to focus on climbing, but it was very hard to stay in an environment like that, with so much toxicity and so much harassment.”

According to her account, the behavior began during her first year at the club. “It started with comments about my body, about my butt.” She says that when she mentioned her Moroccan roots, Hamid Lemasra, an instructor and contractor for the club, told her she could not be from that region “because women from there don’t have a figure like [hers].” Another member who was at the club that evening confirmed hearing the comment.

“I would go to the gym, no one would agree to belay me, and I would end up packing my things and going home”

Aminah*, a former member of CAF Casablanca

Among the women around her, Aminah says, late-night messages became a recurring subject. “When it was two in the morning, we would text each other and ask, ‘Did he message you too?’” Other women also described receiving private messages, sometimes within their first few weeks at the club. Aya*, who joined CAF Casablanca in February 2020, says she received messages from Lemasra. “It was hard to figure out what was happening. Was he hitting on me? How was I supposed to react? Should I be nice and pretend he was just being friendly, or should I be firm and risk not being welcomed at the club?” She says she eventually stopped responding, turned off read receipts, and avoided contact with him.

Inès*, a current member, says she set boundaries after physical contact she considered overly familiar and repeated late-night messages. She also says she received messages she found intrusive. Vertige Media reviewed several screenshots of WhatsApp conversations. One message reads: “So you fantasize too?? [sic]” After Inès avoided answering directly, another followed: “A fantasy is a different kind of dream.” Other screenshots from 2022 show late-night or ambiguous messages, including “Hey, beautiful” and “No, it’s just that I like you a lot.” In a conversation about an outing, another message reads: “Whenever you want, I’ll take you wherever you want [sic].”Inès says she reported the messages to club president Chantal Aounil but, in her view, no concrete action followed.

Another account involves unwanted physical contact. Fatima Zahra, a CAF Casablanca member who agreed to be identified, says the incident took place in 2021. While she was belaying a climber—managing the rope to protect them in a fall—she says Lemasra kissed the back of her neck. “I screamed. Of course, I had to hold myself back because I was belaying. It was so disgusting.”

Several women described what they saw as the same consequence after setting boundaries: they were gradually shut out. Aminah* says she lost access to training opportunities despite being a dedicated member. “It was like we had been banned from the group.” Eventually, she says, she could no longer find anyone willing to belay her. “I would go to the gym, no one would agree to belay me, and I would end up packing my things and going home.” Inès describes a similar pattern. “He stopped talking to me for months. And of course, he wasn’t the only one who stopped talking to me.”

“It wasn’t sexual harassment. It was more a matter of perception”

Chantal Aounil, President of CAF Casablanca

Isabelle*, another former member, says her experience at the club changed after she turned down unwanted attention. She arrived “full of enthusiasm” and was initially “welcomed very warmly.” But she says the situation shifted after she separated from her partner at the time.

“The messages became more explicit, and I made it clear I wasn’t interested. That’s when things became difficult for me. It happened when I said no.” She later describes a confrontation with Lemasra. “He literally screamed at me in front of a group of people.”

According to Isabelle*, the incident prompted “no reaction of any kind” and marked the beginning of her exclusion from the group. She also says other women confided in her. She describes a “code of silence.” “These women wanted me to become their spokesperson, but above all, they didn’t want to have to speak themselves.”

Today, Aminah* says she is waiting for CAF Casablanca to be restructured—or for another climbing gym to open in the city. “I’ve spoken with a lot of women who told me they quit climbing because they didn’t feel safe there.” She sums it up this way: “As soon as you speak up about something that’s wrong, you become the enemy.”

Contacted by Vertige Media, Lemasra disputed these accounts. Asked about messages sent late at night or considered intrusive, he said he was “genuinely shocked.” He denied making comments about members’ bodies. “That’s completely absurd. It is absolutely not true.” More broadly, he said his dry or ironic sense of humor may have been received poorly. “I’ve always had a kind of second-degree humor at the club that some people may not like. I completely understand that.” Asked about the physical contact described by members, he said ordinary greetings had been taken out of context. “Culturally, saying hello and hugging someone—you can’t do that anymore. People used to.”

Aounil says she met with some members after the first concerns were raised. “It wasn’t sexual harassment. It was more a matter of perception.” The club president says she is “very sensitive” to these issues, particularly because of her background in human resources, and says she offered to hold discussions with the women involved.

More recently, comments describing this kind of behavior appeared beneath a FFCAM LinkedIn post about women’s place in the mountains. The post was later deleted, but Vertige Media reviewed screenshots. In one comment, Moroccan outdoor influencer Meryem Belkihel said she had “evidence, screenshots, and conversations” documenting troubling behavior involving “more than a dozen female members” of CAF Casablanca. She called for the matter to be handled by an appropriate authority.

Niels Martin, FFCAM’s director of communications and regional development, told Vertige Media that the post was likely deleted because of a procedural mistake. “I think she [the person managing the page] confused deleting the comment with deleting the post.”

Martin also said the federation had received no official report concerning CAF Casablanca and that its unit dedicated to abuse and violence had “not been activated.” He stressed, however, that “the club is autonomous” and that its president remains “the first person responsible for what happens within the club.”

Martin added that in 2025, CAF Casablanca sent 11 instructors and club leaders to a training session on gender-based and sexual violence. He described that level of participation as significant compared with the average among affiliated clubs. Aounil confirmed the figure and said she had attended the training herself. Asked whether Lemasra participated, she said she did not “have the list [of attendees] in mind.”

Women Left Out

Members have also challenged the way technical skills and training opportunities are distributed. From February 15 to 22, 2025, CAF Casablanca held an outdoor route-development course in Merzouga, near the edge of the Sahara in southeastern Morocco. The course covered equipping outdoor climbs, including installing bolts and anchors. In its 17th newsletter, the club described the course as being organized jointly with FFCAM’s climbing commission. No women appeared on the list of selected participants. The explanation given internally angered some club members.

“I’m not saying I didn’t make those comments. I should have phrased it differently”

Chantal Aounil, President of CAF Casablanca

Amir*, a club member, says he learned about the course from an FFCAM instructor, not through an official club announcement. He requested a meeting, which took place on December 18, 2024, with Aounil and others present. “Members had received no information, so we wanted to discuss the selection process with the club’s leadership and ask how the course had been communicated to members,” he says. According to Amir*, the lack of transparency was not unusual. “CAF never shares information about training courses before they happen, and there are no selection criteria. It’s pure favoritism.”

In a transcript of the meeting posted in the club’s WhatsApp group and shared with Vertige Media, Amir named several women who were active in the climbing section. The president responded: “No girls will take part in this course.” She then added: “Girls don’t have the physical ability to carry the gear. It would be too hard for them.” Elmehdi, a longtime member who attended the meeting, confirmed that the comments were made but said the reasoning was unfounded. “Those two women were in better physical condition than most of the men. They were also more qualified because they climbed outdoors more often, were more involved, and climbed at a higher level.”

On February 21, 2025, members circulated a petition in the club’s WhatsApp group criticizing the lack of a public announcement, the absence of objective criteria, and the risk of favoritism in access to training. Aounil denied that anyone had been excluded because of gender, though she acknowledged that her wording had been problematic. “I’m not saying I didn’t make those comments. I should have phrased it differently.” She cited the required fitness level, the demands of the trip, the need to rotate training opportunities among different members, and the expectation that participants would later use those skills to support the club.

A Closed System

Beyond the specific incidents described, the accounts raise broader questions about how the climbing section operates: Who makes decisions? Who gets access to training? Who is allowed to teach or supervise others? And who can challenge the system without being pushed aside? Some members do not want the club to be defined solely by its failures.

Elmehdi, who has been active in the section for several years, says he received “a warm and supportive welcome” and “excellent technical training” there. The club gave him “an opportunity to grow and develop new skills,” he says, even though he now strongly disagrees with the way the climbing section is governed.

Amir* describes a section controlled by a small group of longtime figures. He focuses in particular on Lemasra, whom he describes as the person who “takes over every decision related to climbing.” According to Amir*, anyone who tries to change the way the section operates eventually runs into the same obstacle. “Whenever passionate people come in and want to help climbing develop here, they always end up facing Hamid.”

Lemasra acknowledges that he has held a longstanding and central role at the club.

A member since 1998, he says he has managed the climbing program since 2006, working as a mountain guide, contractor, volunteer, and “technical adviser to the club.” But he denies having personal decision-making power. “I don’t make any decisions on the board.” He says he works as an instructor during training courses but does not choose the participants. Aounil also rejects the idea that Lemasra holds informal power. “Hamid does not make the decisions. People need to stop saying he has power. That’s a myth.”

Sofia*, a former member, nevertheless describes an atmosphere in which challenging the status quo is difficult. She says she witnessed sexist comments directed at women climbers and aggressive reactions when she set boundaries. “Everyone who goes there initially thinks they’re going to find some kind of safe space built around sports and the mountains,” she says. In her view, the problem is an organization that protects certain longtime figures. “I don’t understand why he is so protected. I don’t understand why people are so afraid of him—afraid to confront him or remove him.” She describes it as a system in which people conform because they believe doing so is the only way to belong. “It’s a system where everyone around it, whether they agree or disagree, follows the same patterns because they think that’s how they’ll be accepted and included.”

Lemasra and Aounil, for their part, say the criticism stems from frustration over access to training. Lemasra says “the Merzouga course was the last straw” and claims the allegations emerged after the internal petition failed.

*Names marked with an asterisk have been changed.