My Brother the Devil won awards at Sundance, Berlin, and the London Film Festival and explores male gang culture. What drew you to this subject matter?

I wanted to explore the importance of masculinity. I'd been living in Hackney for 10 years. I could see teenage boys hanging around my neighbourhood and they fascinated me, especially the Arab boys who had a cultural upbringing to which I could relate.

At first I was interested in the gang as a surrogate family. But the more I got to know the boys, I was drawn to their struggles. My background is in documentary. I spent a lot of time in their company listening to their stories. I witnessed their attempts to achieve happiness and their struggles to gain employment.

The film took six years to make. What kept you going?

There was the excitement of setting out to have a gay Arab gangster as your lead character. I was also determined that the film would end on a message of hope. I think as a film-maker you have a responsibility about what you're putting out into the world.

Is it frustrating when people ask why a woman would explore such male subject matter?

You look at Almodóvar – he makes films about women and people don't blink an eye. I suppose I've always been a bit of a boy. Virginia Woolf has this great quote that all writers should be androgynous. Having said that if I'd been a man, I don't think I could have entered the world the way I did. I wasn't a threat. Also being Arab and Muslim helped.

You say it's about the power of unconditional love?

Although the film touches on issues of prejudice and identity, it's about brotherhood and the disintegration of the hero – what happens to the younger brother, Mo, when he can't deal with the truth about his older brother, Rashid. Can you overcome prejudice and things that are ingrained in you? Both brothers must face up to who they really are if they are to be able to love each other.

The riots broke out in Hackney the day you started filming.

We were testing the cameras on Mare Street – though we weren't allowed to film for insurance reasons. For me the riots just underlined why I'd been trying to raise money for this project. Never has there been a time when we more needed to see an honest depiction of this world and [its] disenfranchised youth.

How did your parents meet?

My dad was Egyptian and my mum is Welsh. They met at university in Liverpool in the 1960s. I was born in Swansea for passport reasons – my mum is really good at those things! – then grew up in Cairo. It was tough for my mum living in Egypt in the 1960s but she's definitely the strong woman in our family. At 16 she encouraged me to leave home and attend one of the United World Colleges based in south Wales. UWC brings together students from all over the world to foster intercultural understanding. As a film-maker it's this ability to empathise that allows me into the hearts of the characters I'm creating.

As a child you loved storytelling?

I wrote poetry and developed my own photographs. We weren't exposed to many films because we spoke English at home and went to an American school. The few films I did watch made such a huge impression on me. Today the cinema I love is poetic, dreamlike.

You didn't go to film school?

I studied Arabic and Middle Eastern politics at Durham. I thought I'd messed up my life because I hadn't studied film. Then I found this place called UK Arts International that had a theatre director who took me on as an apprentice. Later I got a job working as a production co-ordinator on Middle East documentaries. But I started to have moral questions about investigative journalism. I was in Baghdad during the war in 2003 and the ex-commander of Saddam's army took us to his house. I met his wife and daughters, who had not been outside for years because he feared for their safety. He taught them to shoot guns. And I remember thinking: "That's the real story. How do you live inside four walls?" It made me realise I wanted to work in fiction. I got a job as a script editor in BBC drama. Later I started making my own films.

Your first short, Henna Night, was about a young woman in a lesbian relationship.

I'm interested in people on the margins of society; outsiders and outcasts. Being Welsh-Egyptian – half from one place, half from another – you always see both sides of everything. It's like having split personality because you're navigating these two worlds.

How are you coping with award ceremonies? You've been nominated for a few, including most promising newcomer at the Evening Standard British Film Awards next month.

I accepted the newcomer award from Women in Film and Television in uncomfortable shoes. A few days later it was the BIFAs [British Independent Film Awards] and I had terrible blisters. I couldn't get any shoes on. On Google I found that hikers duct tape their heels halfway up a mountain so I had to do that. It epitomises how alien all this dressing up is.

Have you been back to Egypt?

I haven't been back since the revolution. I have a lot of friends who were at Tahrir Square, but with a split between secular and religious elements in the country, I fear what the result will be. My Brother the Devil was nominated for a prize at the Cairo Film Festival – I was so encouraged. Then we were told we were no longer invited because the ministry of culture had sacked the artistic director and reprogrammed the festival. I'm fearful for women's rights, they're not represented in the new constitution.

How do you relax?

I'm a reclusive homebody. I live with my partner. I love cooking north African cuisine.

What's next?

Another London movie. Again it's about the people on the edges of society, but I've had enough of teenage boys for a little while!

My Brother the Devil is released on DVD and Blu-ray on 18 March