For years, Deena felt caught between two worlds—too Egyptian for Australia, too Australian for Egypt. At home, she found comfort in the scent of bakakeem bread and the warmth of Eid gatherings. Outside, she learned to quiet parts of herself to fit in. But identity isn’t about choosing one side over the other. It’s about embracing both. And in that in-between space, she finally found home. Deena's story is unqiue in its own, bur surely resembles the life of a many third culture migrants.

Growing up, Deena often felt like she was living between two worlds—one shaped by the rich traditions of her Egyptian roots and the other by the modern rhythms of her Australian upbringing. Born to Egyptian parents who migrated from Alexandria to Melbourne in 1990, she was raised in a household that, on the surface, blended seamlessly into Australian society but, at its core, remained deeply connected to Egyptian and Islamic traditions.

Navigating Identity in a Predominantly White Australia

When Deena’s parents arrived in Australia, the cultural landscape was starkly different from today. Diversity wasn’t widely celebrated, and they faced racism that made them feel like outsiders. In an effort to shield their children from the struggles they endured, they encouraged them to assimilate—speaking English at home, avoiding anything that would make them “stand out,” and downplaying their heritage.

Hajj Ameen's anecdote in Arabic (Deena's Father).

Translation: " Since my childhood, I have loved raising chicken. When I migrated to Australia, I started working twice as hard to buy land where I could build a house and a place to raise chicken. One time, a woman was walking her dog on the street, and the dog entered our property, attacked the chicken, and killed one of them. The owner of the dog entered our land without permission to take the dog. I told her that her dog had killed the chicken, but she responded with obscene words. We called the police on her, but she also used obscene language towards them, took her dog, and left and the police never arrived."

*This anecdote, kindly shared by Hajj Ameen, is just one example of the challenges migrants faced in early 2000s Australia. It was never just about the chickens.

Yet, despite this push for assimilation, certain traditions never faded. Deena grew up watching her parents celebrate Ramadan and Eid, their home filled with the warmth of family gatherings, the scent of freshly made falafel, and the comfort of bakakeem bread. These moments, though tucked away from the outside world, were quiet yet powerful reminders of the culture her parents never truly left behind.

Between Being Muslim, Egyptian, and Australian

For Deena, identity wasn’t just about nationality or ethnicity—it was a delicate balance between faith, culture, and belonging. While her Egyptian heritage connected her to a deep, centuries-old history, her Muslim identity layered on another dimension, one that often made her feel like she was constantly shifting between two realities.

At home, she was immersed in Islamic values and Egyptian customs. But outside, she faced the reality of a secular Australian society that didn’t always understand or welcome her faith. She often found herself caught between two sets of expectations—trying to honour her heritage while also navigating a world that sometimes saw her as “too foreign” or “too different.”

Wearing the hijab became a defining moment in her journey. It wasn’t just an act of religious devotion; it was an assertion of self-acceptance. In Australia, it made her hyper-visible, a walking contrast to the Western norm. But in Egypt, she discovered another paradox—she was still seen as different, not quite “Egyptian enough.” The realisation that she might never fully belong to either culture was painful at first, but over time, she learned to embrace it as her unique strength rather than a limitation.

Rediscovering Her Roots

For much of her childhood and teenage years, Deena wrestled with the feeling of being “different” but not knowing exactly where she fit in. It wasn’t until university that she began embracing her identity. Meeting others who shared her background opened a door she hadn’t fully explored before—her Egyptian Muslim identity wasn’t something to suppress but something to celebrate.

She started learning Arabic, eager to connect with her roots in a deeper way. Through this journey of self-discovery, she also found herself drawn to the hijab, a deeply personal decision that became a bridge between the two worlds she had struggled to reconcile. What once felt like an impossible balancing act transformed into an identity she could proudly claim as her own.

She realised she wasn’t just one thing or the other—she was both, and that was beautiful.

The Inspiration Behind Noor’s ‘Home Away from Home’ Campaign

Deena’s story became the heartbeat of Noor’s first collection, Sentiments of Home. Her experience as a third-culture migrant inspired the campaign Home Away from Home, a tribute to those who have grown up balancing two cultures and finding belonging in both.

Although the campaign’s visual narrative, A Day in the Life of Deena, isn’t an exact reflection of her personal routine (out of respect for her privacy), it captures the essence of the third-culture migrant experience. It tells a story familiar to so many—navigating identity, reconnecting with one’s roots, and ultimately finding a home in both the past and present.