Nijla Mu'min is an award-winning writer, performer, and filmmaker whose feature film Jinn premiered at the 2018 SXSW Film Festival and won the Grand Jury Award for Writing. She has written and directed episodes of Blindspotting, Insecure, Swagger, Queen Sugar, and more.
Nijla Mu'min is an award-winning writer, performer, and filmmaker from the East Bay Area. Her filmmaking is informed by poetry, photography, fiction, music, and dance. Named one of 25 New Faces of Independent Film by Filmmaker Magazine in 2017, she tells stories about Black girls and women who find themselves between worlds and identities. Her debut feature film, Jinn, premiered at the 2018 South By Southwest Film Festival, where she won the Special Jury Recognition Award for Writing. Jinn, a New York Times Critic’s pick, was released in November 2018 and is currently streaming on Amazon. Her short films have screened at festivals across the country. Her filmmaking and screenwriting have been supported by the Sundance Institute, IFP, Film Independent, Women In Film LA, and the Princess Grace Foundation. She’s written for the Starz series Blindspotting, the Apple series Swagger, and directed episodes of HBO’s Insecure, Hulu’s Wu-Tang: An American Saga, Apple’s Swagger, and OWN’s Queen Sugar and All Rise. She is currently developing her second feature film Mosswood Park, as well as a debut collection of poetry and prose essays. Her poetry has been featured in Aunt Chloe, The Temz Review, The Boston Review, and Mythium Literary Journal. She is a 2013 graduate of CalArts MFA Film Directing and Creative Writing Programs, and a 2007 graduate of UC Berkeley, where she studied in June Jordan’s Poetry for the People Program.
Noor
FADE IN:
INT. SUBWAY - MORNING
A crowded subway train headed for Harlem. PASSENGERS are pressed up against each other. Bodies bounce in unison. A BLACK MAN holds an iPhone and stares at the screen: an international broadcast plays. PEOPLE flood the streets in bloodied clothing. Some chant. SOLDIERS in riot gear rush into the crowd, wielding batons and guns. The man concentrates on the broadcast.
The train makes an abrupt stop, jolting him forward. He rises and exits. With his seat empty, we see NOOR, sitting several rows back, a slender 29-year-old black woman with deep-set brown eyes.
The train roars to a stop and she gets off. She walks with the mass of PASSENGERS, up the slimy subway steps. Sunlight hits their tired faces.
EXT. BUSY STREET - MORNING
Noor paces down the busy street. Several POLICE OFFICERS patrol the block. They talk into their radios. Noor's arm grazes one of theirs as she walks past.
INT. WOMEN'S CLINIC - MORNING
Noor enters a small clinic. WOMEN are packed into connected seats, waiting to be called. "The View" blasts from the overhead television. A chubby WOMAN with sweaty hands, looks away.
Noor walks into the reception area of the clinic. Her coworker, DEBORAH, types something into a computer. She turns around.
DEBORAH
Hey girl.
Noor sits at the reception desk.
NOOR
Hey.
She sifts through files on her desk.
DEBORAH
We got a busy one today. Lots of last-minute appointments.
Noor looks out into the sea of people.
A woman, GINA, 31, walks into the clinic and approaches the reception window. Noor smiles at her.
GINA
I'm here for a nine-thirty appointment.
NOOR
Can I get your ID?
Gina rummages through her purse and hands it to Noor.
NOOR (CONT'D)
You're thirty minutes late. The doctor may have canceled it. I'll check.
Gina appears anxious.
GINA
I really need this appointment.
Noor looks at her.
NOOR
I'm sure you do, but we have a full day and a twenty-minute hold policy for late appointments.
Noor gives an agitated smile. The woman appears to be sweating now.
GINA
If I don't get this appointment, I may lose my baby --
NOOR
Okay, you can go have a seat and I'll let you know.
Noor looks at the line forming behind her.
GINA
I need to know now!
NOOR
Ma'am, please have a seat. I will check soon. Thank you.
GINA
You don't have to be so fucking rude. You don't know what's going on --
NOOR
I'm sure you'll be fine.
GINA
I won't if I lose this damn appointment.
NOOR
One moment.
Noor gets up and walks to the back. Gina stands at the desk, sweating.
INT. DOCTOR'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Noor stands at the door of a doctor's office, staring at a clipboard with various names on it. Gina’s name has been crossed out, but Noor writes it back in.
INT. WOMEN'S CLINIC RECEPTION AREA - CONTINUOUS Noor walks back to the reception area.
NOOR
Turns out we can fit you in. Now, please have a seat and fill out these forms and bring them back when they're complete.
GINA
Thank you.
Gina walks off, still looking at Noor. Noor avoids her glare. Deborah turns to Noor and pats her on the shoulder.
DEBORAH
You okay?
Noor nods, and schedules the next PERSON. A RESIDENT NURSE walks out of adjacent doors and announces the next patient.
RESIDENT NURSE
Diana Gomez.
DIANA GOMEZ looks up. A MAN holds her hand in the next seat. They walk toward the nurse with worry in their eyes. The doors close behind them.
EXT. NOOR'S PARENT'S BROWNSTONE - LATER
Noor unlocks the door to a house and enters.
INT. NOOR'S PARENT'S BROWNSTONE - AFTERNOON
Noor enters a well-decorated, spacious living room. Framed photographs of young Noor in pigtails and a yellow graduation cap and gown, line the walls. Next to them are photos of a young man who resembles Noor. There's an elaborate prayer rug spread out on one side of the floor.
Through the kitchen doorway, Noor sees her mother SHERON, dancing around the kitchen in hot pink rollers and a pink terry cloth robe, while washing dishes.
The faucet runs and hot steam rises into the air. Sheron turns around and notices Noor standing there. She tries to compose herself. Noor laughs.
INT. NOOR'S PARENT'S BROWNSTONE KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS Noor enters the kitchen.
NOOR
Am I interrupting something?
SHERON
Oh no, baby. Just getting ready for tonight. Me and the ladies from the salon are going out.
Sheron walks over to the stereo and turns down the R&B song. Noor smiles.
NOOR
Okay Mom, I see you.
SHERON
What's up?
NOOR
Can I get the recipe for the bean pies you used to make?
Something comes over Sheron. She looks away.
SHERON
Yeah.
NOOR
I texted you about it, but you didn't respond. I want to surprise Darren, you know? He's been working so hard lately --
SHERON
When is he ever not working hard?
NOOR
Mom, I didn't come over to argue.
Sheron goes to a drawer and pulls out an aged, crumpled piece of lined paper. It is more than ten years old, with grease marks on it. She hands it to Noor.
SHERON
It's all there... And don't go too heavy on the sugar, mash the beans really good --
Sheron is interrupted by the entrance of NASIM, 22, and YUSEF, 58, two good-looking black men in exact resemblance to one another, except one is older.
Yusef has a nicely-shaped beard and wears a black and gold embroidered kufi cap. Nasim kisses his mother and Noor on the cheek. He sets some bags on the counter.
YUSEF
A-salaam-a-laikum ladies.
Sheron doesn't return the greeting. Noor does.
NOOR
Wa-laikum-a-Salaam daddy.
SHERON
Nasim, some girl called here earlier for you.
Noor smiles.
NOOR
What girl?
SHERON
Said her name was Jojina.
NOOR
Ooh Jojina, sounds cute! Is that Spanish?
Noor looks at Nasim, who doesn't seem too delighted.
.
NOOR (CONT'D)
Oh, she’s calling the house phone? That’s some throwback high school love affair-type stuff... She must really like you.
He smiles, softly.
YUSEF
What happened to the nice girl from the masjid that Rasheed introduced you to?
NASIM
Dad, I told you. She can't even see me unless her pops is in the same room damn near. I can't get down like that.
YUSEF
It's the Islamic way, Nasim.
Sheron shakes her head, laughs.
SHERON
Yeah...I bet the way we met was the Islamic way too, right?
YUSEF
That was different, Sheron. You know that.
Noor and Nasim laugh at their parent's disagreement. Nasim checks his cell phone and walks briskly to his room. Noor starts getting her belongings together.
NOOR
Later y'all. Gotta get home.
SHERON
Bye, baby.
INT. BROWNSTONE HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Noor walks past Nasim's room on her way out. She overhears him talking to someone on the phone.
NASIM (O.S.)
Why’d you call my parent’s house though??!.. Wait, don't hang up. I'm sorry. I'm still thinking about what we did last night...
Noor's eyes widen. She's not supposed to be hearing this. She looks confused and curious as she exits.
EXT. SUBWAY STATION - MAGIC HOUR
Noor reemerges from the subway cellar with a mass of PASSENGERS. She carries some grocery bags. An OLD WOMAN hobbles up the stairs next to her, breathing heavily. She can't make it up the stairs. Noor offers her hand. The woman takes it. They walk up the stairs together.
OLD WOMAN
Thank you.
NOOR
No problem.
Noor looks at the woman, then paces down the Brooklyn street, and into a brightly decorated bodega with a sign that reads "House of Hafiz."
INT. BODEGA - EARLY EVENING
The bodega is alive with CUSTOMERS and chatter. SCHOOL KIDS in patterned uniforms grab at bags of Hot Cheetos. A WOMAN jumps and knocks down a roll of toilet paper from atop the beer freezer. A MAN enters, yelling out an order to the deli.
MAN
Give me a turkey sandwich, extra mayo! Extra pickles! You know how I like it.
Noor picks up a few beers, and heads to the front. RAMI, 32, an attractive Palestinian man with a sculpted face and piercing, deep-set eyes, stands at the register.
He laughs with an OLD BLACK WOMAN in a roller set.
OLD BLACK WOMAN
When we gon' go out Rami?
RAMI
I don’t know, Mrs. Johnson. I’m not sure you can keep up.
She hands him some money. Noor looks at him, noticing just how effortlessly sexy he is.
OLD BLACK WOMAN
I can keep up, honey.
Rami laughs, handing her a lottery ticket.
OLD BLACK WOMAN (CONT'D)
I’ll be back. For your fine ass. Hmm, hmm hmm!
Rami can’t hold back a smile. Noor is amused. She giggles.
RAMI
Noor, haven’t seen you around lately. How are you this evening?
NOOR
Long day at work. But I’m good.
Noor fumbles through her purse to retrieve some cash. She hands it to Rami.
RAMI
The light.
NOOR
What?
RAMI
That's the meaning of your name. The light --
NOOR
I knew that, but thanks for reminding me.
RAMI
Did I ever tell you that my sister's name is also Noor --
NOOR
No, you didn’t.
RAMI
Any woman with that name, I regard very highly --
An older good-looking Arab man, HAFIZ, comes from the bodega storage room and taps Rami on the shoulder.
HAFIZ
Snap out of it Rami. We got a line going!
RAMI
Sorry.
Rami looks at Noor, deeper this time, and returns the ID.
RAMI (CONT'D)
Have a nice night.
NOOR
You too.
Noor exits. Rami still stares at her.
EXT. BODEGA - CONTINUOUS
Noor looks back at Rami, and giggles. She walks off smiling to herself, a little turned on.
INT. APARTMENT KITCHEN - EARLY EVENING
Noor stands in the kitchen. She presides over a counter of cinnamon, nutmeg, eggs, navy beans, vanilla, brown sugar, and other baking essentials. She stirs the batter for a bean pie.
DARREN, 30, enters in slacks and a dress shirt. He opens the refrigerator and pours some water.
DARREN
Hey.
NOOR
Hey babe, how was work?
He takes a beat.
DARREN
Good.
Noor scoops some bean pie batter into a spoon and walks toward Darren. Tries to touch his arm.
NOOR
What's wrong?
DARREN
Nothing.
NOOR
I stopped by the store. Got some stuff for dessert tonight.
She holds the spoon closer to his face.
NOOR (CONT'D)
Here, taste this.
She smiles. He opens his mouth and tastes the batter.
DARREN
Almost tastes like my grandmother’s sweet potato pie.
He walks away, leaving Noor holding the spoon of bean pie batter.
NOOR
Almost?
DARREN
Not sure what you want me to say. It’s good.
She looks out of the open kitchen doorway as he loosens his tie and walks toward their room.
EXT. STREET - EARLY EVENING
Nasim tries on knitted kufi caps at an outside vendor. He looks at himself in a mirror.
NASIM
Ay, you got this in blue?
HASAN, an Arab man, with an orange beard, nods. He unpacks a blue kufi cap and hands it to Nasim.
HASAN
I got anything you need. What you need? You need bean pies? I got them from the Nation of Islam men in Harlem --
NASIM
Naw, those bean pies are stale as shit. Don't try to play me like last time, Hasan.
Hasan smiles and massages his beard. Nasim continues to look at himself in the blue kufi cap, admiring his baby face in the mirror.
INT. APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - EVENING
Noor sits on the couch watching TV, extremely bored. A live NYC anti-police brutality protest illuminates the screen.
Noor turns it off, uninterested. Darren is consumed with typing something on his laptop, across the room.
Noor puts her face in her hands and sighs. The doorbell rings. She gets up to answer it.
INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - EVENING
Noor looks through the peephole. She smiles and opens the door.
NASIM
What's up, sis?!
Noor and Nasim hug. He wears the blue kufi cap he just purchased.
NOOR
I wasn't expecting you.
She takes his coat and leads him to the kitchen.
INT. KITCHEN - EVENING
On the counter, two bean pies sit on wire cooling racks, covered in saran wrap. Droplets of moisture cling to the saran wrap. Nasim walks forward.
NOOR
Nasim, who's that girl you were talking to on the --
He instantly cuts her off.
NASIM
Is that.... I fucking love you right now, Noor. For real.
He leans in, inspecting the pies. Grabs a knife on the counter and tears the plastic wrap off the top of one. He shovels some pie into his mouth. Burns his lip.
Noor smiles, happy that someone enjoys her pies.
NOOR
Nasim, they're still hot.
NASIM
You think I care? No, really. I haven't had a good bean pie since mom stopped making them. Remember that?
NOOR
Yeah, I do.
He continues eating the bean pie, dropping crumbs onto the counter.
NASIM
The ones they sell down on 125th don't even touch this shit, Noor.
With each bite, he gets more excited. Darren enters the kitchen.
DARREN
Hey Nasim, what’s up?
They give each other a pound.
NASIM
Nothing much man... You taste this bean pie my sister made?
DARREN
Yeah, I did. It’s good... Do you think you guys can quiet down though? I'm trying to get some work done.
NASIM
On a Friday night? Y'all ain’t gonna go out?
Darren turns around.
DARREN
We went out last weekend.
NASIM
And?... Who stays in the house doing work on Friday night?
DARREN
People with careers.
NASIM
You need to loosen up, man. Take your lady out, dance, eat some of this here bean pie --
He holds some pie to Darren. Darren refuses.
DARREN
We done here?
NOOR
Don't talk to my brother like that, Darren.
DARREN
Well your brother should learn to come by when he's invited.
NOOR
He can come by whenever he damn well pleases.
Nasim, sensing Darren's anger, inches closer to him.
NASIM
We got a problem, man?
NOOR
Nasim, it's okay. Darren just had a rough day at work, that's all.
Darren walks briskly out of the kitchen. Nasim and Noor stare at each other for a brief moment.
NASIM
What the fuck is his problem? Noor avoids the question, and looks away.
NASIM (CONT'D)
I always knew his ass was uptight, but that's just too much --
NOOR
Look, it doesn't matter.
NASIM
Y'all don't do shit anymore. Every time I call or come over it's the same thing. I wanna see you happy Noor.
NOOR
Look, I said it doesn't matter. Just drop it.
The look in her eyes says the conversation is over. They stand in silence for a beat.
NASIM
Come out with us tonight.
Noor looks uninterested.
NOOR
Who's us?
NASIM
Me and my boys. The Lux lounge down in Bedstuy. My man is spinnin'. It's gonna be a nice crowd. Some sexy ladies I'm looking to --
NOOR
Okay, I don't need all the details, Nas.
NASIM
You haven't been out in like decades.
NOOR
Yes, I have.
NASIM
When?
Noor thinks to herself.
NOOR
Me and Malikah went to that gallery last Friday.
NASIM
A gallery?! You need some bodily contact, sis. Some sweat and shaken' in your life. And if any nigga try to push up on you, I got you sis. Come on.
Nasim does his best little brother pouty face at Noor.
NOOR
Okay, I'll go. But I gotta get ready.
Nasim gives her a once over.
NASIM
Yeah, you do.
Noor pushes him.
NOOR
Shut up Nas!
Nasim grabs a last piece of pie.
NASIM
You need a ride?
NOOR
No, I'll meet y’all there. I'm gonna catch a Lyft.
NASIM
Let me take some of this here bean pie for the road, though.
He puts the pie into some foil. They exchange a quick hug.
NASIM (CONT'D)
I'm out.
He exits.
INT. BODEGA - LATER
Rami stands at the cash register, reading a magazine. Two POLICE OFFICERS enter, with their walkie-talkies blaring. One Officer receives an urgent dispatch.
The officers rush from the bodega. Rami watches them as they exit.
INT. NOOR'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Noor admires her body in a full-length mirror. She wears only panties and a bra. She runs her fingers across the top of her breast, causing goosebumps. She smiles at herself.
Darren walks in, and glances at her body.
DARREN
Noor... I lost my job today.
NOOR
What... What happened? I thought you said --
DARREN
I lied. I didn't want to say anything with Nasim here. That’s why I was irritated --
NOOR
I'm sorry. We'll figure it out. With my income we'll be okay.
DARREN
No, we won't.
Noor seems distracted, though Darren needs support. She looks at her phone.
NOOR
I really have to go meet Nasim now. Let's talk later.
Darren looks disappointed as she leaves the room. For a brief second, we see his eyes glaze over as if he might cry, but he holds back.
INT/EXT. BODEGA - CONTINUOUS
Rami grabs two turkey and cheese hot pockets from the freezer and a beer. He puts them in a small paper bag. Hafiz stands on a ladder, restocking toilet paper.
HAFIZ
Nine AM tomorrow. No sleeping in!
LOUD VOICES can be heard from outside the bodega, startling the men. Rami goes to look.
EXT. BODEGA - CONTINUOUS
Several POLICE OFFICERS surround a BLACK MAN two blocks down from the bodega. Rami watches, his vision obscured by all the chaos.
INT. NOOR'S PARENT'S BROWNSTONE - CONTINUOUS
Yusef prostrates as he makes salat in the living room. The light is low, accenting the glittered strands of fabric on the prayer rug.
He brings his hands up to his ears to recite the first verse.
YUSEF
Allah-u Akbar.
EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS
Noor hears a GUNSHOT as she waits for a cab. It shakes her. She looks down the street, where she sees several PEOPLE gathering.
Noor dials Nasim's number as she walks toward the commotion.
NOOR
(into phone)
Nasim! You better answer the phone. I'm almost there. I don't feel like
waiting in no long ass line. Can your DJ friend let me in?
She ends the call. Noor sends Nasim a text message. She calls again. No answer.
She talks to herself, worried.
NOOR (CONT'D)
Come on Nasim.
A large group of people line the corner near the bodega. Some are in a frenzied commotion. There are police cars lined up along the sidewalk.
Noor squints her eyes, confused by the scene. She stands outside of the commotion, then calls Nasim.
Noor sees a WOMAN crying on the corner. Reluctant, Noor nears the crowd. She pushes through PEOPLE. She finally reaches the front of the crowd. An ambulance siren comes from a block away. A ring of POLICE OFFICERS engage in a heated dialogue with several PEOPLE.
On the ground lay a Black man, face down, with blood streaming from his side. He does not move.
Noor jumps back from the initial sight of him. She can't see his face.
Noor looks closer at the man. He wears a blue kufi cap. Noor begins to breathe heavily. She drops her phone.
She walks closer to the body. She bends down and looks into the man's lifeless face. There's a hint of a smile there.
Nasim's smile. She touches his hand. Two police rush toward her.
POLICE OFFICER
Move away, Ma'am!!
She refuses.
NOOR
Nasim.
She falls to her knees next to her dead brother. She looks up to see RAMI in the crowd, watching her. They lock eyes.
Noor is copyrighted and registered with WGA-West.
Fire.
We go to sleep to fire. We wake up to it. I don’t see it anymore, but I know it’s there. On the news. In the souls of us. I’m at Costco buying in bulk, waiting for the next smoke cloud to cover the mountains. I’m in an n95 mask, and folks are eating large beef hotdogs and laughing outside as I push my big cart through the parking lot. Maybe laughter is the only thing we have left. laughter through our confused lungs. Air that seems fresh and fine until we’re coughing specks of ghost homes from our mouths. Our noses burn with the smell of ash in a grandmother’s hands. The house she raised her whole world in. Her family’s cove. I want to hug her. Place the sweet potato pie back on the counter. Caress a lover’s hand on the couch. call the cousin to see if he’s on his way over. The roads are just chalk now.
But you can still hear us singing through the smoke.
held.
I hold. onto the body I have. In the doctor's office, studying pictures of livers and fallopian tubes on the wall, thin white paper wrapped around me. My mind sings When will it be over? When will these white walls release me back into summertime. daisy dukes in the Bay. The air was wet & foggy & silver to the touch. I am held. I hold onto the memory of C-- asleep next to me. how he took off his glasses, then kissed me on my forehead. My baby. Him. My island sweetie. I am held by the whispered prayers of my grandmother sprinkling nutmeg in the sky. I am held. Even if I lose part of my body in this twisted medical complex. I hold onto the breath of my father, making Fajr prayer in the morning. how I used to wake up, after nights running wild on Adeline, to hear his recitation. I am held by his love in the sky. I hold my stomach as it aches into the rivers. If my womb must be cut, I hold light in my eyes. I am held.
Detroit
I wear this love for you
like an exoskeleton
an armor on all sides
your laughter slips through my mouth
you resemble Malcolm from the side
as you drive
in that black cap and glasses
I wait in the car
while you make salat in the masjid
because I did not bring a scarf.
Then I remember that Malcolm proposed
to Betty in this city
over a pay phone
so I don’t need flowers
just your hands
it’s raining and the streets are wider
than dreams
we drive through the neighborhood
of your youth
your house, three times bigger
than my childhood
Hayward apartment
where I read all those novels about love.
Is this a movie?
where I arrive to reclaim you
I flew to Detroit to get my heart
broken then hugged back together again
in a sports bar eating honey-slathered biscuits
as the Lions lift and slam into the ground
bones broken, despite heavy armor
I just keep leaning into the hour
me, a steely flower opening up
because I don’t want to leave you-
clapping for a team I never clapped for
holding on for a city I thought I might move to
at one time
my exoskeleton, hardened
by the weight
of unreleased love
THE INTERVIEW
This interview was conducted between Nijla Mu'Min and Jae Nichelle on February 21, 2025.
It’s exciting to have both poetry and a script excerpt here since you’ve said in interviews that your poetry background influences your filmmaking. Do you also find the opposite true now that writing scripts has influenced how you write poetry?
That’s a good question. I started writing poetry when I was a teenager. Then when I was in college at UC Berkeley, I was a student teacher poet in June Jordan’s Poetry for the People Program. My immersion in that program and my study of different poetic traditions really informed my voice as a writer, and later as a screenwriter/filmmaker. Studying and teaching poetry allowed me to strengthen my use of visual imagery in writing, brevity, clarity in language, capturing complete dramatic events, pacing, metaphor and rhythm. These are all elements of my screenwriting and filmmaking as well. I do find that some of my poetry, especially my prose, can mirror dramatic writing for the screen. In both my film writing and poetry, I am concerned with building a world and telling a distinct story, with specific details and active movement. So, I think there’s a fluidity across all of my writing.
Your poem “Fire” addresses living with the constant threat of fires in Los Angeles, yet it ends with “But you can still hear us singing through the smoke.” What’s keeping you hopeful these days?
Love keeps me hopeful. The love inside of me, and the possibilities for love in my life. I experience love when I sing. I feel whole and complete when music covers me.
Noor is an incredible script, and you are premiering the short film version of it this year! How was the process of distilling the story into this shorter format? How do you feel?
I feel really good about the short film version of Noor. I’m ready to premiere it for audiences. The short film actually consists of some of the first act of the feature script that it’s based on, so it wasn’t challenging to adapt the story into a short film format. However, during the edit, we had to work to make the short film stand alone, and we experimented a little. The short film really captures Noor’s agency as a woman, her yearning, her sensuality, and her light.
So, the short film introduces us to the characters and the world of the feature and ends on an inciting event/cliffhanger that will hopefully have people wanting to see how the feature film unfolds.
Noor, as well as many of your other films (like your short film Jinn), has received many awards. Appearance on The Black List’s Muslim List, winner of The Athena List competition, and a Sundance Talent Forum pick are just a few of them. What impact do you feel these accolades and recognition have had on your career?
Those accolades have definitely boosted my profile and recognition as a writer/filmmaker, but I’ve had to put in so much work outside of them, in order to have a career in this industry. This is truly one of the most difficult careers to pursue, especially when trying to tell stories that aren’t considered readily “commercial” or “mainstream.” I’ve been on a continual mission for the last 18 years to make poetic, complicated, hopeful and emotional stories about Black women and girls that show worlds we’ve never seen, and get to the heart of humanity. I’ve been told my stories don’t sell, don’t matter, and aren’t needed. I’ve also seen packed, sold-out audiences in tears from my films. So, while I’m so grateful for the accolades and awards, I’ve really had to fight to keep going, build community, get to know people, fundraise for my work, sacrifice my personal life, stay up late nights, pitch to people, face continual rejection, stand on faith and keep going by any means necessary.
What’s a lesson you’ve learned from a mentor that you’ll never forget?
I learned a lot from one of my mentors Reggie Rock Bythewood, who was the showrunner for Swagger, a show I wrote and directed on. I’m not sure I learned lessons, so much as I really appreciated and learned from the example he set as a storyteller, showrunner and human being. He ran such an inclusive, beautiful writers room for Swagger, allowing all voices to be heart and respected. It felt like we were all family in that writers room and I learned so much about building a sense of community. He would also say that having “swagger” was about having a cause bigger than ourselves and that always resonated with me. The art we were making in that show was so much bigger than us, and bigger than basketball. It was about uplifting and humanizing the Black community, particularly our youth.
You’ve worked on both drama series like Queen Sugar and Wu-Tang: An American Saga, and also in comedy with Insecure. How do you navigate writing or directing for these very different genres and picking up the tone of a show?
Most of the shows I’ve directed have been one-hour dramas, with the exception of Insecure, (and Blindspotting, which I wrote for). When I direct a show, I go deep into the world and the characters of the show, and come to the job ready to honor the vision of the showrunner, while also bringing my voice to the story. It’s a delicate balance and one that I enjoy. I was already a fan of most of the shows I’ve directed, so I was pretty familiar with the tone and pacing of the shows before getting the job.
What parts of your upcoming projects are you most excited about?
I’m excited to continue exploring different social justice issues through intimate, character-driven stories. I have two projects coming out—a comic book and a short film, that deal with reproductive health and reproductive justice for African American women. And I’m excited for audiences to experience my work in theaters, during screenings. We need more of that. I love sitting with audiences as they watch my work, seeing and feeling their reactions, their whispers, their tears, their laughter, and their love.
If a food critic was coming to your city, where would you tell them to eat?
Well, I am from the Bay Area, but I live in Los Angeles so I’ll provide a few places:
In Oakland, there’s a restaurant called MUA. I always love the food, the vibe, and the decor there when I visit home. In Los Angeles, I really enjoy Bacari Silverlake and Two Hommès in Inglewood. One is Mediterranean fusion, and the other is African-inspired.
How can people support you these days?
People can support me by following my work, boosting it online, attending screenings when they’re announced, and loving themselves and others. We are also doing a fundraiser to finish post-production on Noor. Contact to learn more at www.nijlamumin.com.
Name another Black woman writer people should know.
People should definitely know Nadra Widatalla, a talented film and television writer.
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Torch Literary Arts is a 501(c)3 nonprofit established to publish and promote creative writing by Black women. We publish contemporary writing by experienced and emerging writers alike. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats.