“This is not a play about Muslims struggling with their faith; it’s about two people trying to live normal lives in a world that sometimes makes that difficult.”
“This is not a play about Muslims struggling with their faith; it’s about two people trying to live normal lives in a world that sometimes makes that difficult.”
Peanut Butter and Blueberries, written by Suhaiymah Manzoor-Khan, is a play that sticks with you long after the curtain falls. It’s a bittersweet British Muslim romcom that combines the familiar beats of a love story with the complexities of faith, family, and social identity.
At its core, this is a story about two young Muslims, Bilal and Hafsah, navigating their lives as second-generation immigrants in London. Their journey is one of friendship, love, and the nuances of being Muslim in a society that often misunderstands them.
The play opens at the University of London’s SOAS, where Bilal and Hafsah meet. Their connection is simple and unassuming, bonded over hot chocolate and peanut butter and blueberry sandwiches, a strange but meaningful combination that becomes symbolic of their relationship.
Bilal, a rough-edged Brummie of Pakistani descent, and Hafsah, a poised and driven Afghan woman from Bradford, form a friendship that slowly transforms into something deeper. Both feel like outsiders at university, struggling to reconcile their personal ambitions with their cultural and religious identities.
What makes this play stand out is how comfortable Bilal and Hafsah are in their Muslim identities. They are not grappling with their faith in the way that Western media often portrays Muslim characters.
There is no trope of Hafsah struggling with her hijab or Bilal being a stereotypical rebel. Instead, the challenges they face are more nuanced and rooted in the everyday realities of life, such as family dynamics and the subtle but pervasive effects of Islamophobia.
Bilal’s character is particularly compelling. He is protective of his mother, who has faced her own struggles, and his fierce loyalty to her makes him a more complex figure.
His frustration with fitting into a white, middle-class society is palpable. He tries to adapt by adopting certain behaviours, like wearing Doc Martens and letting people call him “Billy,” but he never fully fits in.
There’s a tension within him, a volatile sensitivity to the racism and Islamophobia he encounters, that threatens to undo the connections he builds with others, including Hafsah.
Hafsah, on the other hand, is a focused and intelligent woman who is determined to write a science fiction novella. Her drive is inspiring, and she presents a quietly rebellious figure, challenging patriarchal norms while staying true to her religious values. She never doubts her faith or compromises her principles, and this gives her a strength that resonates throughout the play.
The relationship between Bilal and Hafsah develops with a tenderness that feels real. It’s full of small moments—shared books, quiet conversations, and stolen glances. There is no physical contact between the two, but the intimacy is conveyed through gestures that speak volumes.
The staging of Peanut Butter and Blueberries is simple but effective. Designed by Khadija Raja, the revolving stage moves in circles, reflecting the cyclical nature of Bilal and Hafsah’s relationship.
They come together, move apart, and circle back around each other, much like the turns of the stage. The use of space is minimal but thoughtful, with key props like a park bench or a library desk seamlessly introduced to mark different scenes.
Despite the simplicity of the set, the play occasionally feels static.
There is a lot of dialogue, much of it delivered directly to the audience, which can slow down the pacing. The characters narrate their inner thoughts, breaking the fourth wall and drawing the audience into their personal reflections.
While this brings humour and intimacy, it also leaves some moments feeling underexplored, particularly the storyline about Hafsah’s future as a science fiction author.
One of the strengths of this play is how it deals with Islamophobia. The topic is ever-present but never overwhelms the story. It’s there in Bilal’s tense encounters with the police, in the microaggressions he faces, and in the constant pressure to prove his loyalty to a society that views him with suspicion.
However, Islamophobia is not the central focus. Instead, the play shows Bilal and Hafsah living their lives as normal people—students with dreams, frustrations, and a love that’s trying to find its way. Their Muslim identity is not the elephant in the room or a point of contention, but a natural part of who they are.
The humour of the play is another standout feature.
Bilal and Hafsah frequently address the audience, making us feel like confidants in their story. The actors, Usaamah Ibraheem Hussain (Bilal) and Humera Syed (Hafsah), shine in these comedic moments. Their banter and the awkwardness of budding attraction feel authentic and relatable. It’s the kind of humour that comes from two people trying to navigate their feelings without losing their sense of self.
The play also touches on the complexities of choosing to be with someone. Bilal’s life is weighed down by his responsibilities to his family, particularly his mother, while Hafsah has a bright future ahead of her.
For them, the question of “will they or won’t they” isn’t just about personal feelings but also about the practical realities of marriage, career, and faith. The prospect of a future together is not a casual decision but one that involves serious consideration of what their lives might look like if they choose each other.
Overall, Peanut Butter and Blueberries is a thoughtful and engaging debut from Suhaiymah Manzoor-Khan.
While the play is not without its flaws, particularly in its pacing and occasional underdevelopment of key plot points, it is a powerful exploration of love, faith, and identity.
Bilal and Hafsah’s story is one that feels real and relatable, especially for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider. This is not a play about Muslims struggling with their faith; it’s about two people trying to live normal lives in a world that sometimes makes that difficult. It’s a timely and important piece of theatre that leaves you thinking long after it ends.
If you haven’t seen the play, you’ve unfortunately missed your chance as screenings ended on 31 August, but you can follow author Suhaiymah Manzoor-Khan on Instagram for any new updates.
