Yousra On Love, Legacy, And What It Takes To Be An Icon

What do we want from our icons? To be untouchable? Otherworldly? Beyond this mortal plane? Yousra – the grande dame of Arab cinema – is living proof that all this is nothing without something even more rarefied: a knack for unfiltered honesty

“I love you so much, I love you so much. I do, I do,” Yousra is repeating on Zoom. Not to me, obviously, although for the record, she has been exceptionally sweet in my direction, too. No, she’s addressing her husband – off-camera – who has been sitting in the room listening in to our chat, a constant, solid, silent force of support in the wings. And almost certainly, not just today.

Yousra – icon, in the truest sense of the word – has been having a tough few weeks. Her mother-in-law very recently passed away, and her beloved husband just got out of surgery, so the conversation, naturally, has a more philosophical, contemplative slant than usual. Although it takes just 30 seconds of chatting with her, the doyenne of Arab cinema, to remember that she’s always kind of like this; permanently twinkling, with a sense of mischief and a stellar wit, but with a depth that is unforgettable once you experience it in person. She is generous with it, too, and so willing to anoint everyone around her with her hard-won wisdom, that it’s little wonder that so many look to her as a mother figure. Fellow actors and fans alike.

“I love to give a lot,” she tells me about the joy of paying it forward. “I had many mega stars give me a lot early in my career, so I feel I owe the new generation of talent the same. I don’t keep anything from them. I believe that sharing is part of my character. And I share [my advice] with everybody – with women, with men, with teenagers…” she expands. “You know, I always dreamt of being a mother, now I thank God that I’m not, but I’m the ‘mother’ of all my friends’ children. And I do that with love and with pleasure.” A godmother, I venture. She chuckles, “Yes, that’s what they call me.”

Motherhood. For women, it’s fraught – whether you are one, are wanting to become one, or – a frustrating, antiquated last taboo – if, like Yousra just has, you dare to say you’re happy not being one. The reductive tale society still tells us is that it is our ultimate purpose as women; anything less is a failure at worst, selfish at best. So it is with great trepidation that I probe a little further, asking her to unpick what she’s said.

“I lived this phase,” she explains. “And I longed so much to have a child. They are a blessing from God. But I got scared later on. When you’re younger, you’re braver. You don’t do the same calculations. But the world has turned very cruel…” she says, voice tinged with heartbreak but underpinned by resilience. “I’ve seen a lot, and I’ve seen a few friends of mine lose their children. They are trying to pick themselves up and live because they have other kids, but I see how destroyed they are. These are some of the most courageous, strongest people that I’ve ever met. But if I was a mother I don’t think I could have taken it. I don’t have the power. Maybe this is part of my weakness.”

It’s an emotional sucker punch. But arguably, this intense level of sensitivity is precisely what is required to be a truly great, era-defining actress. If you don’t feel things so deeply, so painfully, how else do you plumb those depths to bring characters to life? This vulnerability is not a weakness – far from it. It’s an enabler. A gift. In fact, it’s a strength, without which Yousra’s five-decade-long, silverscreen reign may not have come to be.

“I’m not Superwoman; I’m only human, and I have my good times and I have times when I’m really down. This is when I disappear. Nobody can find me until I regain my strength. I say to myself, ‘Khalas, you need a rest. You need your space. You need to reconsider and re-evaluate.’” Can these dark moments and plot twists be somewhat lifeenriching, too? “Yes, they do enrich me, and my work as an actress… but that can only happen when you get over them. But you know sometimes when you find yourself in a very hard situation and you just don’t know if it’s going to end or not? Everything ends. The good and the bad. Everything.”

It’s the definition of bittersweet. The beautiful struggle that is life; a life that Yousra has seen a lot of. Growing up in Cairo in the 1950s and ‘60s, she was surrounded by fearless women – a serendipitous setting that she credits with shaping her entire outlook on life.

“They were survivors,” she says of the heavily matriarchal family in which she was raised. “I lived with my mum my entire life and she taught me my strength,” Yousra explains about her mother, with whom she was exceptionally close. I remember her proudly showing me black and white photos of her over dinner back in 2019, shortly before she sadly passed away. Her presence is still very much felt today. “She decided on her freedom,” she tells me with grand admiration, eliciting goose bumps. “And she fought for that freedom when she felt she had got married to the wrong man. This was back in the ‘50s when it was ugly to have a divorced woman with a child. But I can tell you stories about my aunts, my mum, my grandma… and you would be astonished because although they were from another era, they believed so strongly in having their freedom and their own identity. I was very lucky to live with them, to witness how they survived.”

It tracks that Yousra was raised by rebels. This group of women bucked the status quo; defiant in their difference and in turn raising someone who was never afraid to speak her truth, however uncomfortable. This, she tells me, is the cornerstone of true stardom – and as it happens, also of true strength. “My strength comes from a few places – from my faith, from my family, and from me believing in what I’m doing. I would never say something I don’t believe in. Never.” The words come out with force. “Your eyes don’t lie,” she adds. “I’m a mega star, and I’ve had a very big career, but if I see someone is fake or a snob, I drop them like a hot potato. Why would I need that burden in my life? Khalas, bye bye,” she giggles. “Some people can be a star, and know how to act and react as one. But you have to be a star in reality, not just on the screen.”

It’s a lesson she learned early on from one of the great Egyptian cinematographers. “Abdel Halim Nasr told me, ‘Don’t you dare be a snob. People will hate you for it and you’ll never be anything,’” she laughs at the memory. “I never forgot it.” It’s a badge she wears proudly. And, frankly, her openness is a testament to that universally lauded but frequently performative trait – authenticity.

It’s not a choice with Yousra. She simply wouldn’t know how to be any other way. This combined with staggering quantities of star power is a pretty potent blend. Iconic, some would say.

Of course, Yousra has some thoughts on that. “The word ‘iconic’ has become so cheap these days.” She curls her lip at the thought. “Just like the word ‘love’,” she tells me. “Being iconic means living forever. A true icon leaves a legacy. 100 million views on YouTube? This is not a legacy, darling.”

One could say she’s not a big fan of social media. In fact, the last time we spoke, Yousra told me she was staunchly against it. Four years later, she has 3.6 million followers on Instagram. Did her opinion change? “Absolutely not,” she laughs. “I actually like myself more because I was totally right about it in the first place.” More laughter. “I joined because I will not permit someone else to speak on my behalf. I’m on it, but on my own terms, not on anybody else’s,” Yousra shares, her mother’s life lessons looming large.

As our conversation comes to a close, I ask Yousra what the best thing that’s happened to her today is. She laughs drily. Perhaps – quite understandably – it is a day that hasn’t been filled with sunshine. “I’ll tell you the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my life, though. My husband.” She pauses to look at him tearfully before telling him how much she loves him. “I don’t only love him like a wife loves a husband or a woman loves a man.

No, no, no. It has become something else much more precious. I am blessed, God has given me a gift.” It’s a stark yet beautiful reminder that no matter your status, your success, your bank balance… none of it matters without something real to come home to. But of course, Yousra’s always known that. Given half the chance, she’ll take you under her wing and tell you herself. She’s generous like that.

Photography: Fernando Gómez. Styling: Nour Bou Ezz. Artwork: Adra Kandil.

Make-Up: Raffaele Romagnoli. Hair: Yulia Pantiukhina.
Photographer’s Assistant: Rosa De La Paz. Stylist’s Assistant: Martina Dotti, Charlotte Williams. Producer: Steff Hawker

From Harper’s Bazaar Arabia’s September 2023 issue.