Amirah Tajdin is a storyteller in every sense of the word. Her films, like the critically acclaimed Negotiating Liberation, unravel complex narratives with poetic nuance, while her ventures, such as the iconic Lulu & The Beanstalk in Dubai, create immersive experiences rooted in memory and belonging. As a filmmaker and co-founder, she channels her Khaleeji-African heritage and personal experiences to explore themes of identity, sacrifice, and joy. From breaking ground in a film industry where women still fight for their seat at the table, to designing spaces that invite connection and conversation, Amirah Tajdin turns her lived experiences into stories that strike a chord far beyond her own. In an exclusive chat with Soigné, we explore how her creativity and resilience are reshaping the way we see the world.
Your work has always stood out for its deeply personal lens—stories like “Negotiating Liberation” explore the African immigrant experience in Dubai with poetic subtlety. What drove you to tell that particular story, and how do you find the balance between personal intimacy and universal resonance in your films?
Thank you. One of my most formative pieces of advice was to “write what you know and it will resonate.” And that’s the human experience—we’re all rooted in a communal sense of core human values, so we’ll always find something that unites our shared emotions, no matter the differences. And with this film in particular, I wanted to build a metaphor for what being a dreamer and a believer in the power of the human spirit can look and feel like. We all crave love, we all want to build our dreams, and we all dream—and Dubai is a city that never gets its flowers for being a place where the modern person comes to build their personal life chapters, no matter their societal standing. I wanted to celebrate that delicate line of sacrifice, struggle, and joy that comes with it.
You’ve said before that honoring your identity— your Blackness, your heritage—is at the heart of everything you do. In a global industry that often asks creators to “water down” their voices, how do you protect your authenticity while reaching diverse audiences?
It truly is. As a mixed-race, cross-cultural individual whose ancestral roots are from the Khaleej and Africa, storytelling and adventure are literally in my blood! Honoring that and not running away from it in order to fit in was something I had the privilege to explore and accept as my unique gift to share with the world, no matter the medium. And I guess that’s what allows it to be authentic— it’s a genuine and natural extension of my spirit and the role I was meant to take up space in. It’s hard to fight to be heard, that’s definitely a reality and continues to be. But a lot of prayer, family support, and reminders to myself that purpose is everything (success aside) are how I protect it. Being fearless is key too. I know I won’t always win, so being brave enough to give it my best shot and still lose keeps me grounded.
Through Seven Thirty Films, which you co-founded with your sister, you’ve created a space for unique storytelling. What does collaboration look like between you two, and how has building this company shaped the kind of stories you choose to tell?
As sisters, we’ve been collaborating all our lives (haha), but we knew early on in our working relationship that we’d need to have very separate roles to stay on track and objective in how we navigate everything that comes with running a business and a creative career. Wafa is a producer, and I’m a director—and our synergy comes from our shared values of leadership, curiosity, and integrity, which were instilled in us from a young age by Catholic nuns at the convent school we went to in Nairobi—they kept it real! That foundation feeds into the type of stories we tell and gravitate toward. Wafa loves politics and current events (she studied Journalism), and I love the psychology of the human condition and misfits. So whether it’s the films we create together or those she produces for other directors, these remain key points of interest for us individually and collectively.
As a female filmmaker in a male-dominated industry, you’ve often spoken about the need to “work twice as hard.” What has kept you going, and how do you think the industry has—or hasn’t— changed for women in your position?
It still feels like I’m working even thrice as hard! It’s a competitive industry all round even before gender factors in, so it’s not easy staying motivated and believing in the “pay off” but I’m a very spiritual person and that’s the root source of what keeps me grounded. I don’t compare myself to other people’s journeys.
In regards to changes and space for women, I don’t think the dial has shifted significantly over the last 15 years of me being in this game. In some parts, I think it’s gotten even harder to prove your mantle as a female director because our disadvantage was used against us—hired as rushed diversity fillers when we weren’t necessarily ready to take on the bigger budgets and leadership roles due to a lack of experience. In some ways, it felt like being set up for failure.
I’m all for gender equality, but I also believe in not rushing the process. Men have helmed this industry for almost a hundred years—we still need to learn from them before we can re-write the narrative. A lot of women give up, and unfortunately, in this “clout and visual presence” world we move in, you can become irrelevant very quickly. It’s a delicate dance.
Music clearly has a huge influence on your work. Are there any specific tracks or genres that anchor your storytelling?
I’m always in love with a track every other day! Currently, I’m rediscovering my love for American folk music, and there’s something about the poetry and tempo of it all that’s stirring up a new set of feelings for me and how I channel that into my work. I could never narrow it down to just one genre—it’s all rooted in a simple feeling, whatever the vibe.
How have you translated your storytelling skills into creating the experience of Lulu & The Beanstalk as one of the two founders?
I suppose as filmmakers, we are constantly creating new worlds and setting a scene. It was a natural transition into creating a space that felt like a scene out of a film—in this case, a scene out of our childhood memories spent with our grandmother. I take care of the creative direction of the brand, and Wafa heads up operations—similar to our film work roles—with cross-pollination on various moving parts that fall outside of the above categories.
With a restaurant and space, unlike a film set, it has to go the distance, and people interact with it on a daily basis, IRL. So, learning how to create for that was a new challenge and a fun way to understand storytelling through detail and feeling.
Lulu & The Beanstalk is a go-to spot in Dubai. What does community mean to you, and how do you create a sense of belonging for everyone who visits?
It’s important to us as a brand that customers experience both the familiar and the new when they visit. It’s not just a bar or a coffee shop—it’s a public space. That’s what gives it a sense of communal gathering, shaped by its physical design and the intention behind our service style, offerings, and diverse programming, from food and music to drinks and more.
You’ve built a career that’s not only creative but deeply impactful. What advice would you give to women who are working to carve out their own space in industries that often feel inaccessible?
It still feels like I’m just getting started, to be honest. But I must remember to take stock, and I am grateful for the journey so far because this industry is a beast. A lot of what you’ve listed has come at a cost—no regrets—but I’ve made difficult decisions and sacrifices along the way.
So I would say: find something that grounds you spiritually, don’t compare yourself, be brave, and don’t be afraid to speak up when needed. Don’t alienate the allies if they don’t get it—they’re also on a journey and fighting the good fight. Read books, look at art, and take care of your gut health, because as women, we’re much more susceptible to the detrimental effects of stress, and there will always be stress.
Be prepared to lose—success only comes in seasons. There will be more wins along the way. And I think, as women, we need to hold each other accountable in healthier and more expressive ways.
This article originally appears in Soigné Middle East’s debut print issue.
