Tell us a bit about yourself – all the basics! Where you’re from, where you grew up, interests, hobbies, siblings, causes you’re passionate about, anything else that comes to mind…

My name is Jihan, and I was born and raised in Paris, while my father was in political exile. Then, when he disappeared when I was six, we moved to the United States. After that, I ended up living between the United States and France.

How did you become interested in film?

I don’t really watch films; I wasn’t necessarily interested in film growing up. I actually grew up with a strong connection to music. My family is very musical and playful - we enjoy music with a lot of love and humor. My mother and brother sing, my sister Bisan Toron is a vocalist and musician - her music is in my film. We also love to dance, so that really is my natural outlet of expression. Filmmaking was more of a conscious choice. I wanted, I needed to tell my father’s story. I felt compelled to do it. It was an intuitive and logical decision based on my environment at the time, which was watching Libya fall deep into another civil war. The country didn’t have the resources or the stability to find out the truth about what happened to my father.

So I realized I was going to have to do this myself. The truth wasn’t just going to come to me; I was going to have to go search for it. I wanted to make sense of what happened in my life and in my father’s life. So I chose to tell the story. I chose to honor my father, my mother, and my family, and I chose film as the medium.

Because I also have a casual background in drawing and painting, and my mother is an oil painter, expressing ourselves creatively was always natural. There are similarities with the creative process of painting and film, so I followed that instinct. I didn’t need to ask permission to try to make a film but I understood that it is a craft that requires new skills. I am curious and not afraid to ask questions, and I love to learn. So in other words, I learned how to make a film by trying to make one.

If you weren’t a filmmaker, what might you be? What did you want to do or be growing up?

I’m already what I wanted to be, because I always kept it open. I’m not attached to labels, not even the label “filmmaker.” I made a film, which I guess makes me a filmmaker, but I’m more interested in having the continued blessing in my life to connect sincerely with others, to express myself, to choose the creative outlet, and to keep discovering new forms of being. If that’s making a film one day, or writing a book another day, or singing or painting - then that’s the dream. That’s what I’m more attached to and hope continues in my life.

I look back at my life and I can see how my path was always leading to this moment of making a film to honor my father. Sometimes in subtle hints, sometimes in very obvious ways. I never knew it at the time, but that’s the magic of life. I’ve been documenting my family’s life since I was young. I’ve been observing my family closely, gathering photos and videos, organizing them by category, scanning, and digitizing documents. Nobody asked me to do that in the family; that was a natural interest - making sure my father’s files were preserved and accessible. That’s documenting and researching, that’s part of being a documentarian. From that perspective, I guess I’ve been doing it my whole life without knowing it.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

I still give advice to myself now because I’m still learning. Learning how to be more efficient, to transact professionally in the arts, how to build relationships, how to have fair exchanges —it is very difficult, whether it’s with family, work, or friendships. Finding fairness, honesty, and loyalty—these are all precious things.

There have been times where I’ve had harsh lessons. When you act out of fear, when you feel insecure about a relationship, it generally backfires. But when you stand in confidence, in clarity, with fair boundaries and self-respect, and you’re willing to take risks with optimism. That’s a much stronger place to operate from, there’s more success in it, especially as a woman.

Other than documentaries, what’s your favorite film genre and why?

I love animation, short form, fantasy films, and abstract, wild art. I love Japanese anime and also children’s films. I think children’s films are much more magical. When people write for children, they reach the essence of being human in a much more beautiful and impactful way.

Is there an anecdote about your project you’d like to share?

This film is to reconnect with my father and to reconcile with my identity. My identity was partly shattered when my father disappeared because he was my primary connection to Libya. He also was my protector in Libyan society. Not only did I lose my father, but I lost my access to a whole country. I’ve had to rebuild that connection very carefully and slowly over the years, starting with my family, and this film is just an extension of that desire to integrate the different compartmentalized worlds of my life. I am using the film as a vessel to hold my father, Libya, and I as one whole.

I’m half Libyan and grew up when my father was exiled from Libya, so I always wondered, “What does it mean to be Libyan? If you take away Qaddafi’s regime and the politics, what makes me a Libyan?” In my search, I interviewed Libyan people all over the world who knew my father, many of them older men. I felt like I was speaking to different versions of my father. One of the men said to me, “Jiji, don’t worry. I am Libyan, my father is Libyan, my mother is Libyan, I was born in Libya, I know Libyans, but even I don’t understand what it means to be Libyan.” I felt validated and a huge weight lifted off of me.

What accomplishment thus far are you most proud of?

The film premiered at La Biennale, Venice Film Festival in August 2025, which is an honor and a dream. Italy hosted the world premiere of a Libyan film— with the Italian colonization of Libya a century ago—it felt like a symbol of coming together and acknowledging our shared history in a creative and sincere way. That was beautiful.

I also got to bring my family together at the Venice Film Festival. My proudest moment was when we were in the middle of the theater at the premiere and it felt like the whole audience was giving my family a hug through the applause - like a ceremony of acknowledgement and care. My mother was in the middle of that communal circle to receive the love and gratitude —I also made this film to thank my mother for everything she did.

Not only that, but sharing the film with my family, to share it with the next generation, so that they know the story of where we come from— the film is trying to build a bridge between the generations - that’s something I’m proud of.