Your film shares the stories of eight Arab women who are all first-generation immigrants to Edmonton. Before we get into that, what’s your story as a first-generation immigrant to Canada, and eventually Edmonton?
I was born in Cairo, Egypt. I grew up between Kuwait and the United States. I did part of my undergrad at Rutgers in the U.S., and then I transferred to the American University in Cairo, and that’s when I really got to know my country of origin, because I never lived there. Cairo’s a crowded place, so it was very active and fun. At the American University, I met my husband and married, and we moved to Lebanon. From Lebanon we moved to Dubai, and then in Dubai, because he’s not Egyptian, he’s Palestinian, we needed a place to call home. We wanted to make an educated decision, so we set out on studying each country’s laws, and ways of living. And when we saw Canada’s Bill of Rights and Freedoms, we were like, yeah, that’s the one, we’re going there. So we applied and we came, and it was a year to the date we landed that my first Canadian film aired.
What was that film?
It was about three Palestinian women in London, Ontario. And about how they raise their kids to be well adjusted, well-integrated, heritage-proud kids. Because that fine line is very tough when you have kids here. They’re born Canadians. That’s all they know. But yet, because of that Bill of Rights and Freedoms, you are encouraged to be proud of your heritage, to bring the best of your culture with you, to be the best version of yourself as an immigrant, to contribute, to add to society, rather than isolate yourself and just shun the larger society.
It sounds like, from the beginning of your career to your newest film, your work very much parallels your life as an immigrant coming to a new place.
Yes, it does. It’s the idea of being uprooted and growing new roots in a new place, and what that entails. It is definitely not an easy thing to immigrate. I believe somebody in Things Arab Men Say said that it takes courage to leave everything behind, all your friends, your family, your neighbourhood, everything you knew, and not only come to a new place, but also make a conscious decision to become a better version of yourself, to take the best of your culture and add to the Canadian culture.
I knew that, from the beginning, there are a lot of misconceptions and misunderstandings — and increasingly so, after 911 — about Arabs and Muslims. So I tend to start where I am. How do we build bridges between two cultures that are sometimes — not always, but sometimes — at odds with each other? How do you counter that image of the terrorist, the enemy? Because there are a lot of misconceptions — actually, the least of them is that all Arabs are Muslims. Or even just “Arabs” — that four-letter word encompasses a whole host of cultures, of dialects, of food, of ways of being, ways of thinking. So I wanted to kind of build that bridge, to get our larger community to understand what we are all about, and for us as well, to understand what it is we are getting into when someone says they’re going to emigrate.
How did you meet the women for this film?
Those are my friends! So here’s the story of this film: I attended a function at the National Film Board office here in Edmonton, and I was pitching David Christensen, the executive [director]. I was pitching him a completely different project. And then we got to talking, and I was telling him, you know, last night, I had a gathering with my friends, and we’re talking about this and that. And the more I talked, the more he listened intently, and then he goes, “This is a documentary I’d like to watch.” So I left that function and started lobbying my friends, because Arab women are camera shy. There’s also the distrust between the media and the Arab community because of the misrepresentation. So I had to really be careful in my selection, because I wanted those who are outspoken. There is camera shyness at the beginning, but they managed to get over it.
They do get over it, and have very candid, on-camera conversations. How much did you direct what they talked about?
This was the toughest film I’ve done because of the topics. This was going to be a very conventional documentary, where I prepare questions, sit in front of each person and ask questions, with some B-roll of them living life in between. But then COVID happened, and for this film, it was kind of a lucky break. Because once we sent them phones to film themselves, they became, rather than a subject of a documentary, a participant in the documentary. They took agency and became the narrators of their stories. So when the lockdown ended, and we could film them together in person for the first time, I said my promise to them is I am not going to censor you, whatever it is that you want to talk about, whatever it is that you want to show us, this is what I’m going to go with. So the topics were ran by me. One of them would say, “I want to discuss abortion,” or “I want to talk about honour killing.” And I said sure, go ahead. My role as director was to fit all that into an hour and a half.
At one point, they do a kind of comparative patriarchy assessment between the two cultures…
Much of the perception in the West is that patriarchy is an old world thing. It’s in the Middle East, it’s Arabs, it’s Muslims. But as Nedra [Kharrat] says in the film, during the COVID lockdowns, violence against women here went through the roof, and that was not particular to any community. And the discussion on abortion was about the United States, because at that time, it was all in the news. In Arab culture, particularly Muslim Arabs, it’s a non-issue. As Carmen [Eissa] says in the film, it’s the mother’s life that we need to preserve, simply because the mother can have another child. But at the time, it was like, oh my god, the States are going to take away abortion rights. And it was freaking the women out, because, you know, the United States sneezes, Canada gets a cold. So yeah, the patriarchy is alive and well, worldwide.
There’s a really poignant example from one woman who talks about what it would be like to be a Palestinian child refugee, or an Ethiopian or Afghani child refugee, who escaped here from war before a Ukrainian child did the same, and who then sees all the Western kids in the classroom wearing blue and yellow. She says “Of course we have complete sympathy for the Ukrainians,” but that something like that happening in the classroom “brings out [the Arab children refugees’] invisibility.”
So, this was a shock. I clearly remember turning to [Producer] Coty [Savard] and saying, “Well, that took a turn,” but it was happening right there, just like the conversation on abortion was happening right there. This was filmed at the beginning of the Ukraine invasion, but everything they say in the film about Gaza, I’ve been asked in so many interviews, “How did they know all this would happen back then?” And I say, they did not have a crystal ball — this has been happening for 75 years. Every other year we have a thing with Gaza. That’s nothing new, it’s just now on a much bigger scale.
And the way the media handled it was very offensive, very hurtful. You know, being called uncivilized — little did we know that, a year later, we’d be called human animals. But when the community around you sees you as less than, and accordingly treats you as less than, it’s tough, especially because that’s a community that you chose. We immigrated. We made a conscious decision to come to Canada. And I get it — the Ukrainians are more similar, the culture is closer to Canada’s. But it doesn’t mean that the rest of us who make up the mosaic of Canada — the Latinos, the Haitians, the Afghanis, the Syrians, and many others — are less than.
Right at the cusp of the Ukraine invasion, we had the 109th street bridge lit up with blue and yellow — and rightly so, because somebody’s country is being invaded, people are being killed and becoming refugees. But do Palestinians not count? Or do we actually truly believe that they are human animals? Every other movie, you see the terrorist is an Arab. And every other news piece you see, it’s Israel retaliating. So for years, Palestinians are going through checkpoints, they’re losing their homes, being humiliated and destroyed, and they’re just supposed to take this abuse and go on about their lives? Why is that an expectation?
The women also discuss the inner conflict of being an immigrant who no longer “belongs” anywhere.
It’s the first generation immigrant curse of not feeling like you belong in either place. You come here and everyone sees you differently, because you are the newcomer. And by the way, this did not happen to the Arab community alone. This happened to the Irish community, this happened to the Italian community when they first started immigrating to the new world, whether it’s Canada or the United States. So while you do your best to integrate, you are still viewed as a little bit different. There is a little bit of adjustment, but then you adjust enough so that when you go to the old country, everybody’s looking at you like you’re a little bit off. So the old country becomes the home that’s never going to be home, and Canada is the home that you will constantly be working on to become your home. Your kids who are going to be born here, they have no problem. They’re Canadians. But we have the struggle of holding back and saying, but you’re a hyphenated Canadian, remember? And they just scoff, like, go away. It’s very tough, it’s unsettling, and you need something to ground you. And I think what grounds us as immigrants is the community we create with people who have the same experience as us.
Your film likely connects most with first-generation immigrants, but what would you want Westerners to take from it?
I would love for them to know that “Arab” is a whole rainbow of cultures and perspectives and religions. I would like them to think twice when they watch their six o’clock news, or the next film that shows them an Arab terrorist. I would like them to get to know us as people, and see the commonalities, the humanity. The mainstream media and politicians tend to play to the lowest common denominator. I would like to raise the gaze. Let’s look at our humanity, all of us. Arabs, Westerners, Muslims, Jewish Israelis — we belong to this human race, and unless we keep our politicians and our elite in check, and say I’m not going to vote for you, or support you, if you insist on dehumanizing not only me but my human brother — whoever they are — then these wars are not going to stop. I really would love for our fellow Canadians to get to know us better, so that they can stand with us and say, “We’re done with this.”
Get to know your fellow Canadians online at the National Film Board of Canada today.
