The Relentless Pursuit of Everything
Dina Helmy is a singer, artist, and student at the American University of Sharjah. Originally from Egypt, her passion for music has taken her from recording videos in her bedroom to performing on stage.
By Myia Hamed
“I don’t think I ever chose singing,” says Dina Helmy, leaning back as if trying to catch her thoughts midair. “It just kind of chose me.”
The Cairo Opera House glowed like a jewel the night she first sang there. She was barely six, dressed in a pink satin dress, clutching the microphone with tiny fingers. Her classmates from Baby Home School stood behind her, ready to perform, but Dina had been chosen for three solos: one in English, two in Arabic.
“It was the biggest thing ever,” she remembers with a laugh. “I was so small, and suddenly they were telling me I’d sing at the Opera House.”
The moment her voice carried across the grand hall, something shifted. The applause that followed wasn’t just for a song; it was for a spark being born. “That was it,” she says. “The first-time people noticed me for something I didn’t even know I could do.”
At home, the stage transformed into a living room. She borrowed her mother’s old flip phone and commanded her imaginary audience: “Good evening, everyone, I’m your host tonight!” Her topics? “Oh, random things!” she laughs. “Fashion, dieting, marriage advice, like, actual marriage advice. I was seven.”
Her mother humored her, filming those mock talk shows with patience. “I don’t think many people know that side of me,” Dina says, eyes glinting. “I’ve always loved being on camera. I loved talking, performing and making something out of nothing.”
That childlike playfulness became an early form of creativity. As she grew older, she started tinkering with editing apps, learning how to color, cut and stitch videos together the same way some kids learned to draw. “When I played online games, I started editing videos from them,” she says. “That’s actually how I learned software like Picsart, Final Cut Pro and iMovie.”
YouTube became her new stage. Inspired by British creator Zoella, Dina began uploading makeup tutorials, game edits and singing covers. “My dad was like, don’t show your face!” she recalls, rolling her eyes affectionately. “So, at first, I only filmed my hands or piano keys.”
When she finally turned the camera toward herself, she discovered something bigger than performance connection. “People liked my videos. I’d get messages saying my singing made their day better. I felt seen.”
She kept posting throughout high school, her confidence growing with every upload. By graduation, she sang live again, this time not as a little girl, but as a young woman who’d built her own platform.
Then, university came, new country, new faces and a sudden quiet.
“There was a talent show,” she says after a pause. “I sang my heart out, but no one really appreciated it. I felt discouraged. That moment made me stop.”
Her father still reminds her of it. “He always says, you stopped singing because of those people,” she smiles. “Maybe he’s right.”
Now, her music exists in fragments shared in living rooms, car rides and nights out with friends. “If the environment feels right, I’ll sing,” she says softly. “But not for people who don’t care. It has to mean something.”
What replaced performance was storytelling. A writing class at university changed everything. “My professor, Randa, told me, you’re a writer. It sounds simple, but it stuck.” Two days before registration closed, Dina decided to pursue an extra path, crying through the chaos but following her gut. “Now I’m minoring in journalism,” she says, almost proudly.
Writing, she says, feels like another form of voice. “Whether I’m singing or writing, I’m still expressing something. It’s still me, just in a different key.”
For Dina Helmy, art has never been about the audience. It’s about the act; the honesty of saying something out loud, even when no one claps.
Somewhere between the Cairo Opera House and a quiet room, between the little girl with a plastic microphone and the writer finding her voice again, she’s still performing. Not always in song, but always with soul.
