Few actresses in Hollywood can say they were part of the first generation of Muslim women to have mainstream roles like the ones Anna Khaja has had. She is known for her roles as Indira in the post-apocalyptic horror drama The Walking Dead: World Beyond, Manisha Al-Jamil in the comedy series The Good Place, Sita Parrish in Quantico and Dr Miriam Arslanian in The Lincoln Lawyer. She currently stars as Zipporah, the wife of Moses, opposite Sir Ben Kingsley in the three-part historical companion special The Old Stories: Moses.

Initially pigeonholed into playing Latina characters that felt inauthentic and unfair, and later questioning how to bring nuance to Muslim characters in a post 9/11 world, Anna Khaja has spent much of her career exploring the complexities of identity, belonging, and what it means to be seen as human by a media landscape that constantly wants to dehumanise your people. 

As an actress and playwright, she brings these questions to both the stage and screen, drawing on her own experiences to showcase stories that matter to her. We spoke to Anna about her journey into acting and writing, the stories she feels compelled to tell, and creating space for Muslim women and marginalised communities through her work.

Can you tell us a little about your role as Zipporah in The Old Stories: Moses? What drew you to the project?

Zipporah herself is what compelled me to take on the role because she’s a female character who is often a footnote in the telling of the story of Moses, but she’s actually a really interesting person if you look at the actual texts. She’s the daughter of a Midianite spiritual leader and comes from a long spiritual and historical legacy, and I found that really interesting.

What I loved about it was that there wasn’t much I found challenging—it felt like a gift. Zipporah was written with so much complexity and total agency. She’s an incredibly important character in this story. For John Irwin, the director, it was really important that their marriage be depicted in a real, relatable way with great respect. She brings intelligence; she’s wise, she’s his closest confidant and best adviser, and she knows him better than anybody else. They have humour between them; there’s playfulness, and I jumped at the chance to play that, and then also, of course, to work with Sir Ben Kingsley.

What was it like working with Sir Ben Kingsley?

That was incredible. He’s everything you hope he is and more. He’s incredibly generous, kind and loving. I’ve worked with a lot of people, and I’ve never worked with an actor who has so much reverence and respect for the craft. And because he brings that genuine point of view, it elevates everyone around him. He’s in his eighties now and is still the sharpest, most talented person on set. He is incredible.

What first drew you to acting and theatre? 

Acting chose me. I don’t come from a family of actors; I come from a family of teachers, and it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. It’s also what gets me through the hard times, because being an actor has so many highs and lows.

On some level, I know that my hardest day doing this is still better than my best day doing anything else.

I’m incredibly grateful that I get to pursue what I love.

What were some of the biggest barriers you faced entering the industry as a young Muslim actor?

There were so many barriers. Before 9/11, there were barely any Muslim characters. I was often playing Latinas, which felt inauthentic and uncomfortable because I didn’t want to take opportunities away from Latina actors. If you really think about it, my generation was the first generation of Muslim actors in the United States playing these kinds of roles. 

Then 9/11 happened, and suddenly there were more Muslims on TV, but for such a sad reason. Those characters were almost always portrayed as dangerous or as the enemy.

There was a constant push and pull within me. I wanted to work, but I also wanted to play nuanced, complex characters.

I kept asking myself: if I took these roles, could I bring nuance to them, or could I eventually gain enough power to make a difference later on? Or should I refuse them entirely because they didn’t align with my values? I kept going back and forth and just figured it out as I went along. There are roles I’ve played that I’m not proud of, but it was a journey.

Do you enjoy being an actress more or a playwright?

I feel like acting is the core of who I am, but playwriting, screenwriting and directing allow me to use different parts of myself. They give me agency.

They let me tell the stories I want to tell, stories that humanise Muslims, and Muslim women in particular.

I want to see Muslims, especially Muslim women, as the protagonists of their own stories. Like my short film Headbang, which explores two very different perspectives on wearing the hijab. I’m interested in topics that haven’t really been explored in the West and in showing the complexity behind them. Muslims are not a monolith. If you’ve met one Muslim woman, you’ve met just one Muslim woman.

Have any writers, directors or artists particularly shaped your work?

Mira Nair, without question. I’ve admired her ever since I saw Salaam Bombay! and The Namesake left me sitting in the theatre, unable to move. She actually came to see Shaheed, which was an incredible moment for me. She’s celebrated, of course, but I still think she’s underrated given the depth of her storytelling.

You’ve written and performed Shaheed: The Dream and Death of Benazir Bhutto. What made you want to create a show about her?

She’s incredibly controversial. Some saw her as a puppet of the West, others as the saviour of Pakistan. She was someone trying to bridge Western and Pakistani politics, and I found that fascinating.

I was also deeply influenced by Ron Suskind’s The Way of the World, which follows her during the final weeks of her life. One of the ideas it explores is that while she may have made mistakes earlier in her career, she returned believing she might have to become a martyr. I found that incredibly compelling. More than anything, I wanted to tell the story of a Muslim woman in power with nuance and complexity.

Looking back across your career, is there one project that feels especially meaningful to you?

It has to be my solo show, Shaheed. There’s something so fulfilling about building something completely from the ground up for yourself that also has historical and emotional resonance.

I researched it, wrote it, played eight characters, and performed an 80-minute solo show. You walk on stage alone, and eighty minutes later you walk off. Whether it went well or didn’t is entirely up to you, as there’s nobody else to carry you.

I personally wanted to step in her shoes as a woman who people have such strong opinions about, good and bad, and show the kaleidoscope of opinions about her.

What mattered most to me was portraying Benazir Bhutto as a complicated human being rather than reducing her to a hero or villain, which was deeply fulfilling.

Apart from Shaheed, is there another stage production that has stayed with you?

Fatherland, which I performed Off-Broadway. It’s based on the true story of a son who turned his father in for storming the Capitol. The real son came to opening night and told us it helped him process everything. The lawyer my character was based on also came, and we’ve stayed in touch ever since.

You co-founded Silver Thread to support Muslim creatives. What inspired you to start it?

I co-founded Silver Thread because there are so many talented Muslims in this industry, and yet there still isn’t enough infrastructure to support and uplift them, giving them chances to tell their stories and become part of the fabric of the industry. 

We support projects financially that perhaps some other organisations doing the same thing might not support. We don’t mind being a little edgy; we don’t mind being a little bold. We just celebrated our first anniversary, which went really well. We also had our first Emmys brunch last fall, where we awarded Deli Boys and Saagar Shaikh with our Cultural Impact Award.

For this year, we presented our 2026 Cultural Impact Awards to Emmy-nominated actress Sepideh Moafi and Peabody Award winner Aasif Mandvi as part of the second annual Emmys Brunch on September 12th in Los Angeles. We want to elevate artists who are telling more nuanced stories starring Muslims.

It’s still early days, but how has the response been from the creative community?

I think it’s a little too soon to tell, since it’s only been a year, but what I can say is that for the community there’s been a huge sense of joy, relief and an outpouring of love. We usually get an almost 100% RSVP for our events, and everyone who comes says that they feel like they can relax and are not expected to be a certain type of Muslim here. There is a difference between feeling included, like inclusion, and feeling welcome, and our motto is you are not just included, you are welcome as your full self.

What do you think still needs to change in the industry?

Muslims are a quarter of the world’s population, and we’re less than 1% of characters depicted on TV and in film. We need to be more prevalent in TV and film as three-dimensional characters who are 100% fully humanised, and our religion is part of the texture of these three-dimensional characters. It’s the most direct way we can build empathy, which we need desperately right now. The world needs to see us as humans.

You’ve seen the industry evolve from post-9/11 to today. How have you seen it change post-October 7th?

It’s hard to say. I definitely sense fear among people about speaking out. I’ve had friends tell me, “I’m too afraid.” It’s difficult to say how the industry has changed on a structural level because we’re also coming out of COVID, the writers’ strike, the actors’ strike, and just an incredible shrinkage of work for everybody. These are unprecedented times in our industry, so I think it’s still too soon to say exactly what’s happening on a broader level.

But on a personal level, I’ve heard people say they were dropped by agents or managers, or perhaps not cast, because they were vocal about being pro-Palestine. Again, that’s anecdotal.

What advice would you give young Muslim actors, writers and playwrights trying to build a career today?

My advice would be to create your own work. There were more direct and easier paths toward getting work, even just 10 years ago. Now I have a harder time advising young artists, and young Muslim artists in particular, with certainty. But at the same time, it’s easier than ever to create your own work. You can make your own feature film with your iPhone in your house, and someone might actually buy it.

Just be an artist. Don’t wait for permission.If you continue to hone your craft and improve, people will take notice.

The other thing I would say is that it’s a marathon, not a sprint. There’s a level of attrition in this business. The people you see going for it hard right now may fall away. But if you really commit and stick with it, things will start to happen.

What would you say to those who are struggling right now and feel like they’re doing everything they can but still aren’t seeing opportunities?

Put your focus on the actions that you can take right now and know that, for that day at least, you are a working artist. This might be as simple as sending an email, attending a casting director workshop, or putting yourself forward for a job. Remember, you get 90% of the pay because you do 90% of the work. Your agent or manager gets 10%.

Community is also so important, even though this can be an isolating profession. Find like-minded individuals and celebrate each other’s wins, and then when one of you experiences a setback, you’ll be there to build each other back up. That helps with motivation too.

What’s next for you?

I just finished my final episode of The Lincoln Lawyer, which went on for five seasons. It was great because I got to take my dad to set for the first time. He got to sit near the director and the showrunner and watch us shoot in the courtroom, so that was really special.

I’m currently working on two screenplays and beginning to direct my first documentary about interfaith marriage. It’s about a female imam who marries people all around the world and counsels them and their less accepting families. My dad is Muslim, my mother is Catholic, and they had a really hard time finding someone to marry them. I come from a family that took from both traditions and faiths, and for me, they were combined in a really positive way. It’s helped me become a more open-minded, empathetic person and has really informed my point of view. That’s why, when I tell stories like Headbang or Shaheed, I’m so interested in multiple perspectives.