I made Hijra to tell a story that feels both deeply personal and universally human. I wanted to show a side of Saudi Arabia that rarely appears on screen—its emotional landscapes, its cultural complexity, and the quiet strength of its women.

Through real locations like Taif, Jeddah, AlUla, and Tabuk, I hoped to capture the soul of a country that is far more diverse and layered than many realize.

At its heart, Hijra is a journey—not just across geography, but across generations. I was drawn to the idea of exploring freedom through three women: a grandmother who once fled her homeland, a teenage girl searching for escape, and a child caught between them, trying to find her voice.

Their struggles reflect questions I’ve asked myself: What does freedom mean to each of us? How does it evolve across time, culture, and experience?

This film is also my way of honoring the cultural mosaic of Saudi society, especially in places where pilgrims settle after Hajj. These spaces—filled with languages, traditions, and stories—represent the kind of coexistence I believe in: one built on dignity, safety, and respect. Hijra is my love letter to the women who carry history in silence, to the landscapes that shape us, and to the idea that redemption can be found in the most unexpected places.