Peanut butter and Blueberries may sound like an odd flavour combination to put inside a sandwich. But in writer, poet and educator Suhaiymah Manzoor-Khan’s stunning debut play, the filling serves as a metaphor for the equally unique story of young, Muslim love in the modern day.

Showing at the Kiln Theatre until August 31st, Peanut Butter and Blueberries follows Hafsah and Bilal, two students who meet at SOAS University in London. They bond over the sandwich filling, yet as their connection grows stronger, their budding relationship comes under societal pressure leaving them with a difficult decision to make.

The play is refreshingly relatable, telling a realistic story of young, Muslim love intertwined with heartfelt conversations in university libraries, fierce and protective friendships and sincere duas made in times of need. Suhaiymah’s production bursts onto London’s theatre scene at a poignant time, creating a safe space for Muslim audiences to see themselves on stage.

In between productions, Amaliah sat down with the talented Suhaiymah to chat about the love story, its characters and what she hopes is next for Peanut Butter and Blueberries.

Hi, Suhaiymah! How did your idea for Peanut Butter and Blueberries first begin?

It was quite spontaneous. It was a commission, meaning the Kiln Theatre essentially asked me if I wanted to write something. There wasn’t any story that I wanted to tell, in particular, but there were characters I wanted to see – people who like being Muslim. 

For most Muslim characters, Islam is usually a hindrance or barrier for them achieving their aspirations, hopes and dreams. I wanted to see characters who like their faith, adhere to Islamic values and their religion being what gets them through the story rather than hinders them. I also immediately pitched a love story, as usually, we see Muslims falling in love with non-Muslims and you never see two Muslims loving each other.

So, I was interested to see what that would look like as that’s the reality and aspirations for many Muslims. I also wanted them to navigate love within our religious beliefs, as love is a big part of Islam. What inspired me more were things I hadn’t seen, rather than the things I had.

How did you go about creating Peanut Butter and Blueberries, from planning to production and stage?

The commission came about three years ago, and I had creative freedom so I began by writing a lot. The research was the conversations I had with friends, family and Muslims looking to get married. Then, I worked with the theatre to help get out the best story possible. After lots of editing and multiple drafts, we had a table read with two actors after a year which helped us edit further.

Then, during rehearsals, it was a completely different process because as the writer, your job is to give the actors and directors as much as possible to bring the characters to life. You have to create an entire world.

Tell us about creating the characters of Hafsah and Bilal. Where did you draw inspiration from?

I studied at SOAS University and there were so many characters there that lingered with me. With Hafsah, I wanted a multi-faceted Muslim woman as all the Muslim women I know are, but we never see it. I also wanted her to be flawed, without betraying her in any way. She was an amalgamation of so many women that I know, and I think people see themselves in her because of that.

For Bilal, in some ways, he represents the stereotype of a Muslim boy but I didn’t want him to be the stereotype. I wanted to show the ways in which being a Muslim man, a person of colour and working class would impact his life. But, he’s also an intellectual, a student and he’s based on so many people in my life.

There are many parts of the play that are relatable, and in a way, all of the Muslim men and women I’ve known have fed into both of these characters. I hope the complexity of Hafsah and Bilal is a fair reflection of our complexity.

Hafsah’s courage speaks to that of many Muslim women trying to live a full life. What went into carving her character, in particular?

Originally, I thought ‘as a young person, what would I have wanted and needed to see?’. There’s nothing to me that’s surprising about her, she’s nuanced and complex. I also wanted Islam to be a very normalised element of the play and something that Hafsah and Bilal share.

I wanted Hafsah to be more knowledgeable as religion can be presented as men’s terrain, but she’s the one that uses faith to enable her to get through. Having Allah SWT to trust gets her through, and at the end of the play, her ability to be hopeful reflects her trust. I didn’t want any part of the narrative to be her resisting or fighting with her faith, and as a result, she’s quite stable and consistent as a character compared to Bilal.

But, Hafsah does have a class privilege. For me, the inspiration is because of the gendered split in the ways Muslims are treated because of the War on Terror and Islamophobia. Because of this patronising assumption that Muslim women need saving, there was a lot of effort put into us being represented and “empowered”. If you look at the funding from Prevent at that time, women were given opportunities whereas men were surveilled and policed.

Hafsah is a result of that – she’s smart, sharp, well-read and a bit of a know-it-all. It’s not a good or bad thing, I just explored what the result of assuming Muslim women aren’t smart and Muslim men are criminals and terrorists would be. I also wanted them to have agency and be flawed, young people. They do hurt each other and don’t get it right all the time, but that’s just reality.

What was the casting process for Hafsah and Bilal like?

The director, Sameena [Hussain], and I were super involved. We had a lot of auditions, but one thing I was adamant on was having Muslim actors. I find it irritating when Muslim characters aren’t played by Muslim actors, only because the Islamic element of the story can be a lot less natural.

For Bilal, I didn’t want him to be a caricature or hateable so what we liked about Usaamah [Ibraheem Hussain] was he had a vulnerability and softness about him – the way he played Bilal was complex, so you could see why Hafsah would fall for him.

For Hafsah, I found it fascinating yet understandable that there were so few hijab-wearing actors. We were really happy to find Humera [Syed], as she brought a witty, funny northern-ness to Hafsah. She didn’t portray her as a brash know-it-all or giggly and girly.

It took a lot of auditions, and I think Usaamah and Humera were the perfect choices. I couldn’t have done it without Sameena, I couldn’t trust the play with anyone else and she held the production and actors so well at the time of the riots, which began seeping into the rehearsal room. I can’t sing their praises any louder.

Were any parts of the play based on a true story or real people in your life?

SOAS was a huge inspiration as it’s one of those places that adds a light, comedic element to the play because it’s such a stereotype in itself and you can poke fun at it. I also wanted to capture the era of going to university and being hopeful of finding marriage, too.

More than Hafsah and Bilal, the other characters like Mithri, Hani and Abdullah were rooted in real people. I think we all have friends like that in real life. We all have a funny and protective friend like Mithri, and someone like Abdullah who has such terrible opinions and everything he says is a nightmare but he has had a tough life. They balance out Bilal and Hafsah well. I think London is like a character, too.

Do you have any favourite lines from the play?

I love the conversation between Hafsah and Bilal, when she asks him if he’s ever seen Dirty Dancing and he says, “I do feel the same, not the dodgy dancing part.” Our set designer, Khadija [Raza], also made us T-shirts that say, “the jhutha is gonna fit your face in a second”.

In terms of moving lines, I really like when Hafsah says, “you’re on your rollercoaster and I’m on mine. We have to get off and get on a third one.” I think that’s a powerful lesson in love.

What have been some of your favourite responses from audiences so far?

We were in rehearsals for so long that you become jaded and don’t think anything is funny or entertaining. The first time we had an audience, it was just amazing to have a reaction. One thing I’ve loved is how funny the play is, I didn’t realise it would get so many laughs. Different audiences find different things funny, too – there’s some ‘in jokes’ that you’ll understand if you’re Muslim. One thing I didn’t expect to be funny was Bilal’s reference to “see it, say it, sorted”.

I’ve just been so happy to see so many Muslims in the theatre. We made sure there was a prayer room and moved the timings of the play to cater to Maghrib, as I knew I wouldn’t come see the play myself if this wasn’t accommodated for. One night, I saw around 40 people in the prayer room which accounts for about one-fifth of the audience and there have been so many first-time theatregoers, Muslim girls, men, couples, aunties and uncles.

One of my favourite reactions was what looked to be a mum and daughter, with the daughter seeming to translate the play for her mum until the scene where Bilal recites the Urdu poetry and she started reciting along with him. I just love people saying how the play has made them feel seen and how real and authentic it is, Alhamdulillah.

What do you hope audiences take away from Peanut Butter and Blueberries?

I want people to leave with a sense of Islam being a special source of contentment in a brutal, harsh world. I also want them to take away the sense of belief in fate – if something is written for you, it will happen and if it’s not, it won’t.

I also want them to leave with a fondness and compassion for the characters, and people in their lives in turn. I want people to be reminded that people are more complex than at first glance, and Islam can be a source of peace in difficult times. I want them to have fun and laugh, too. 

If given the opportunity, where would you like to see Peanut Butter and Blueberries go next?

I’d love to take it up north. Hafsah is from Bradford and Bilal is from Birmingham, so I’d like to see it tour there as well as Leeds or Manchester. I want the Hafsahs and Bilals of Britain to see the play.

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Peanut Butter and Blueberries is showing at the Kiln Theatre until 31st August 2024.