When Your Older Sibling Is the Spark for Your Music Career

Malik originally begged his parents for a sibling so that he could have someone to play ball with. When he finally got his sister, Sara, he was disappointed because she couldn’t do anything for a long while. But as she grew, he realized that he could enthrall her in an even greater game: songwriting.

“My first memory of making music is sitting on the swing with Malik. He sang ‘Winnie the Pooh’ and told me to sing over it,” remembers Sara, better known as Felukah. “I sang ‘Barbie went to school, she played with her friends. Then she took a shot, and it hurt very much.’ That was the first freestyle, and from then on, we just kept riffing.” 

“Feels symbolic, because I was just keeping the base going, and Sara was flowing along. She was three years old,” says Malik. Unlike him, a rather shy and introverted composer with more melodies than words, Sara is a poet and a performer. She didn’t think she had her siblings’ musical knack, but whenever Malik asked her for vocal lines, she’d write him paragraphs.

“Growing up, when I wanted to listen to music, I’d take my MP3 player to Malik. Whatever songs he’d put, I’d memorize,” she says. How did Malik find new music? “Every other summer we’d go visit our family in California, and I’d just sit in the car listening to the radio the whole time,” he says. “I’d look up the top 40, download them illegally, and put the best 12 on Sara’s mp3-player.” 

For Sara’s bachelor’s and Malik’s master’s degrees, the siblings moved from Cairo to New York. At university, Sara went through a terrible breakup. She was constantly writing poetry, so Malik suggested, “Why don’t you add a beat?” and unknowingly created Felukah. 

“For the first two years, Malik was helping me with everything,” she says. “He made my beats and showed me how to record by myself.” They turned their living room into a studio, and Malik was playing the backing tracks at her first paid concerts.

A Brother's Validation: Montiyago Finds His Artist Identity Through Moe

This story finds several counterparts across the region and its diaspora. Sudanese rapper Montiyago credits his older brother Moe for introducing him to hip hop and, after initial hesitancy, giving him the confidence to pursue his dreams.

On his Windows 98 computer, Moe came across Akon and 50 Cent at a time when everyone around him was listening to traditional Sudanese and Egyptian music. He studied their lyrics on AZLyrics and taught himself songwriting. After graduating from college, he became part of D.O Clan, a crew experimenting with Afrobeats, trap, and other genres that weren’t widely present in Sudan at the time. 

“My little brother Yago was my first responsibility in life. When I noticed that he was doing the same thing as I, I tried to stop him. I thought I was wasting my time, and I didn’t want to drag him into it, too,” remembers Moe. “But he was really talented, singing in his school choir and covering local artists.”

Raised by a father who worked in the government, the brothers knew that music was not a viable career choice. But Montiyago has always been the son who breaks boundaries, and eventually, Moe started bringing him along to his crew’s concerts. He himself was balancing a double life between a respectable day job and music. 

“I didn’t see myself as an artist until Moe gave me that validation,” says Montiyago. “Rappers used to be the bad guys, but Moe is a gentleman. He’s the one who inspired me, because he showed me that I can be a good person and still love this art.” 

Amira Jazeera and Khalid Carve Out a Space for Queer Palestinian Pop

Meanwhile in Chicago, songstress Amira Jazeera is creating space for queer Palestinian pop alongside her older sibling and manager Khalid.

Raised in Columbus, Khalid moved to Chicago and worked in performance arts under the name Kal Jazeera. “I realized that Amira was a musician when she sent me a cover of John Legend’s ‘All of Me,’ and I was so impressed with her harmonizing over herself at 15,” they say. 

At 18, Amira followed her sibling to Chicago and began her music career, taking inspiration from Khalid for her artist name. For her first song, “Magic,” Khalid played the violin and helped her shoot the music video. “Very DIY days, we just shot it in my dining room,” they joke. “It’s giving Windows Movie Maker, but we did it together.” 

“They were always the first ones to push me and tell me this can be a career,” says Amira. Like Felukah and Montiyago, Amira’s taste in music was shaped by her sibling. “I listened to Khalid’s pop divas, Britney, Madonna, and Lady Gaga,” says Amira, and Khalid laughs, “Now my sister is a pop diva! The dream came true!”

There are several reasons why the eldest sibling of a MENA household might not pursue music as a career. “The beginning of Felukah was a crazy time, I was doing my master’s and working five different jobs in New York,” remembers Malik. “Music was just a way for me to express myself, but it was too risky as a career.” 

“When you’re the older brother, you don’t have the privilege of exploring uncertainty. In case anything happens, you’re supposed to carry the house,” says Moe. “At some point, you have to stick to what’s known. But Yago wasn’t under that pressure, so he’s doing this for both of us now.”

When war broke out in Sudan in April 2023, the brothers got separated. Moe now lives in the UAE, while Montiyago is between Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Moe might return to rap one day, but for now, he lives vicariously through his younger brother. 

“I played the role of mediator between Yago and our father, but I also told him that becoming successful was the only way he would be accepted. When he performed with Soulja in Dubai at Beat The Heat, everyone in the crowd was shouting Yago Yago Yago, and I’ve never felt more proud in my life,” says Moe.

“When I was younger, I had the dream of being the face of this marginalized identity, being the queer Palestinian pop artist,” says Khalid. “But I actually don’t do very well with the pressure of the spotlight, so it’s really exciting and humbling to make this happen for my sister. Her success is us succeeding as a community, and I still get to be a part of it.” 

“When I travel to perform with Sara, I can’t believe this is happening, and I’m on stage. But I’m just so nervous to do it, I don’t think I’d ever do it on my own,” says Malik. “It’s cool to have people hear my music through her without having the pressure to perform and do social media.”

Carrying the House: Risk, Responsibility, and the Older Sibling's Sacrifice

As the public faces of their families, Felukah, Montiyago, and Amira feel immense pressure. Hypervisibility has turned them into role models or representatives for their communities, and turning art into a career always brings the risk of corrupting the purity of the creative process.

Beyond the personal, releases might have a different impact than originally intended. “I have a line in my song “Ducati” that is not great in terms of good influence,” chuckles Montiyago. “But when I go to schools and meet kids, they only repeat this part. That’s how I learned about my new responsibility.”

“Sometimes I don’t want to be perceived, but being heard as a queer Palestinian artist is a protest,” says Amira. “It’s not only about me. We have a bigger story to tell, and I want people to see themselves in us.”

Working together as one sibling gains success also brings its difficulties. “When Sara started collaborating with other producers, I struggled because a lot of my music changed,” says Malik, who releases his own music under the artist name MMKN. After he returned to Cairo, their jamming routine was interrupted; they’re learning to be more intentional about shared music releases while making time for each other amidst their individual endeavors. 

Similarly, Amira and Khalid haven’t yet found a balance between work and sibling time. “We have our moments when we bud heads, when the manager and the client hats are on, and I need her to work,” says Khalid, who is careful not to become a parent instead of a manager. “We have to know the difference between the kiki and the work hours.”

Felukah, Montiyago, and Amira all agree that they would not have had the confidence to follow their dreams had it not been for their older siblings. In turn, seeing their siblings’ success inspires Malik, Moe, and Khalid not to neglect their own love for music.

Moe and Montiyago wrote songs together when they were stuck in one room during the COVID-19 pandemic, which they plan on recording one day. Sara and Malik have an upcoming project with their younger sister Hana, a bass guitarist and singer.

“When I’m looking for my creative spirit, I listen to Amira’s album, and I think of how to do the theatrics of her next show,” says Khalid. “There’s so much life that comes from this art.”