Abokamar: Using Satire to Expose What We Suppress

Before the camera ever turned on him, Abokamar was already performing—for his friends, his reflection, his own imagination even. The Egyptian-born, London-based filmmaker and digital creator has become a cult internet figure with his absurd sense of humour and sharp social commentary. Having styled celebrities and campaigns, he spent a decade in fashion, but it’s in front of the camera where his imagination truly heightens. 

Now, with over 400K followers across social media and a style that melds drag and satire, Abokamar has extended his work into something larger than comedy, addressing Arab masculinity and the right to be “too much”. He shapeshifts through his characters, using laughter as both mask and message. His TikTok sketches are funny but subversive, a collision of humour and discomfort that exposes everything Egyptians quietly laugh about but rarely say aloud. 

Now studying directing in the UK and building his own label, You Make Me Sick, Abokamar is showing a different side of what online Arab visibility can look like—unfiltered, hysterical, and human. We caught up with him to talk about his personal journey and why being “too much” is just enough.

What inspired you to start doing what you do?
The moment I realised there weren’t any hidden cameras around my house, filming my life as I act out random improv telenovelas or speak my brain rot out loud, was the moment I decided I needed to set up those cameras myself.

Who are your influences and inspirations?
I’m inspired by people who perform their lives like it’s a film, who are told they’re too much, the ones referred to as ‘unhinged’ or ‘insufferable’ just because they’re not scared to take up space. I love artists who blur the line between real and performed, the kind of people who make you wonder if they’re being serious or if the whole thing is a bit—that tension between authenticity and spectacle is where I live.

What is the defining moment in your career to date?
Probably right now. I left a 10-year styling career, stepped away from the business I always dreamt of building, and moved to London to pursue my dream of doing film and started a postgrad in directing. This move, professionally and geographically, feels like a shift in how I see myself and what I want to say.

What change are you hoping to drive through your work?
I want to challenge narrow ideas of who gets to be seen, loud, or celebrated. I also poke at toxic masculinity, gender norms, and the rules that society hands out about identity and art forms—all with humour, a big smile, and my classic wink. Mostly, I want to make people question their biases and create space for people who feel like they don’t fit the ‘one of us’ box.

What fuels your creative process?
My energy comes from just being me and seeing how people respond to that. I love making people laugh, think, feel seen or, at the very least, wonder. Knowing that young kids who feel ‘different’ find a piece of themselves in what I do is a huge motivation. Also, I thrive on chaos. I genuinely enjoy testing the limits of what I can get away with and how far I can push social boundaries.

How do you hope to see the SWANA region’s cultural scene evolve?
I want to see it become less male-dominated and more gender-diverse, especially in positions of power; most decision-makers like producers and managers are still men. And they tend to invest in people who look and think like them. I want to see more diversity not just for the sake of optics, but real access and real representation for people across gender, sexuality, and class—a real dynamic change in who gets to make the call.

What would you like to ultimately achieve with your practice?
I want to show that being yourself can be radical and powerful. I want to redefine what visibility looks like for anyone who isn’t moulded by society, anyone who’s been told they’re too extra or loud. I want to make people laugh but also make them think about why they’re laughing. Through humour and storytelling, I aim to dismantle the comfort around hate and give space to voices that exist outside what’s deemed acceptable.

What projects are you currently working on?
I’m writing my next short film, a dark comedy about the western fetish for SWANA pain and, maybe just maybe, developing my voice as a stand-up comedian and dancer, which still surprises me every time I say it out loud.