Grief is one of the most universal human experiences, yet it is also one of the most isolating. After the passing of my mother, I found myself navigating that paradox — carrying love that felt infinite while living with an absence that felt just as vast. I have often turned to the stories that shaped our faith and culture for centuries, that remind us that love is not merely an emotion but a force that transcends even death. Among my favorites has always been the tale of Layla and Majnun. Long before Romeo and Juliet, their names were spoken in verses across the Muslim world, embodying the kind of love that survives separation, longing, and heartbreak. For me, their story is not just about passion, but about how love, even unfulfilled, can evolve into something enduring and sacred.
It is in this spirit that Islam’s Greatest Stories of Love arrives. Premiering August 22 on PBS, the new two-hour documentary produced by Unity Productions Foundation follows Ariella Gayotto Hohl, a young Latina Muslim student at Harvard, as she embarks on a profoundly personal journey through grief after the loss of her father.
Guided by five timeless love stories from the Islamic tradition, she discovers how love, whether divine, romantic, or familial, endures as a force of resilience and transformation. From the legendary devotion of Layla and Majnun, to the calligraphic whispers of eternity on the Taj Mahal, to the unwavering support of Malcolm X’s sister Ella, to the bond of Rumi and Shams, and the partnership of the Prophet Muhammad and Khadija (peace be upon them), each story reframes love not as fleeting emotion, but as the very ground upon which our lives are built.
In Ariella’s journey, I recognize echoes of my own — the ways that grief can become a vessel for love’s evolution, and how our tradition offers a map for surviving loss with dignity, depth, and hope. Islam’s Greatest Stories of Love is more than a documentary; it is a meditation on what it means to endure, to heal, and to carry love forward.
MUSLIM GIRL: What was it like to share such a personal grief on screen?
ARIELLA: It wasn’t easy – grief can feel so private, so bringing it into the public eye felt like I was exposing a wound in some ways. But at the same time, being open with that pain became part of the healing, because it allowed others to feel seen in their own grief. There were so many people who came up to me after the film premiere to tell me about how it resonated with their own pain. They would show me pictures of the loved ones they lost and tell me about them. The ability to turn the worst thing that ever happened to me into something healing is something I will be eternally grateful for.
It was Ramadan and our first day on set. I noticed that Chancey, one of the camera operators, wore a headscarf and asked if she wanted to pray the afternoon prayer with me when we had a break. We asked the security guard at the loading dock if we could pray in his office and we prayed side by side, squeezed in a tiny corner of the room, before we started filming the first shot of the movie. This set the tone for the whole production for me.
How did your father shape your understanding of love before his passing?
My father showed me how transformative love can be in someone’s life. His love and fierce belief in me made me soar – it is what made me reach places I didn’t think were possible before. It made me realize that having unconditional and unwavering love is what allows us to grow as human beings and it makes all the difference in the world.
As a Latina Muslim student at Harvard, how has your identity shaped the way you connected with these stories?
I come from a specific context with layered identities that are not often associated with each other. As a Muslim, I naturally have a deep connection to these stories because they are part of my faith. The stakes in those stories feel high to me – their lessons directly shape the way I live my life.
As a Latina student who is frequently not legible as a Muslim, it was important for me during my time at Harvard to show how that my heritage and traditions are not incompatible with Islam. In fact, they are intertwined. I come from a culture that is welcoming, loving and family centered. There were many aspects of these stories that reminded me of values I learned from my own family. The story of Malcom X’s sister Ella is a great example – the type of unwavering support we give to family members was something instilled in me very young. I’d do anything for my sister, and she is the same with me.
Why do you think so many of Islam’s most powerful love stories are still unfamiliar to American audiences?
I think too often, Islam is only shown through the lens of politics or conflict. This overlooks our humanity in many ways. Human beings have written more about love than about any other emotion – every culture finds ways to express the joys of love and the sorrows of love-lost and unrequited. Islam, to which two billion people refer today, is no exception.
Many overlook how love stories have been central to Muslim culture since its inception, from world-renown art, architecture, poetry, and literature. We have our Song of Songs, and its metaphysical love poets. We have our Romeo and Juliet. We have eleven distinct words to convey each unique stage in the process of falling in love in Arabic. Despite all this, even the most popular love stories of the Muslim world are largely unknown in America and go unreferenced in our entertainment media – that is what we are trying to address.
Of the five stories — Layla & Majnun, the Taj Mahal, Malcolm X and Ella, Rumi & Shams, Muhammad & Khadija — was there one that resonated with you most deeply?
The lessons behind the story of the Prophet and Khadija (peace be upon them) have lingered the most, I believe. I keep thinking about how after he received the first revelation, he came to her and asked her to cover him. He thought he was going mad. But she didn’t – she loved him and knew he was destined for great things. She reminded him of his own character. And she stood by him and sacrificed everything, including eventually her life, for his mission. And look at the legacy of her support today. Her love enabled a faith community of two billion people to exist today.
It just took me back to my dad and the way love makes a difference in the way we look at ourselves.
Was there a moment in the filming process when you felt your perspective on grief shift?
Absolutely. And it was caught on camera too! When Omid Safi says, “Every heart breaks, but what a difference it makes for a heart to break open.” That line reframed everything for me. I began to see grief not as something that closes us off, but as something that could expand my sense of self, to connect with others, to honor the legacy of my father’s love.
Even though we had a big crew and big lights, it often felt like there was just me and the person I was talking to in the room. There was one moment where I was having a very emotional conversation with Dr. Fanusie about my father’s legacy and I broke into tears. I forgot for a second we were in a film set until I looked around and saw the entire crew (even the toughest ones) had tears in their eyes.
What did you learn about carrying both love and loss at the same time?
I learned that love doesn’t end with the passing of a loved one. These stories have lived on for centuries, and some over a thousand years. The poetry of Rumi still inspires others to understand love 800 years later. Majnun’s poems have been recited for a thousand years. The story of the Prophet and Khadija still inspires 2 billion people after 1400 years. Seeing how love outlasts us all and can grow into something amazing that will echo centuries later gave a whole other meaning to my pain.
How do you hope young Muslim women, especially those navigating their own struggles, evolve their relationship with love?
I hope that the film allows other young Muslim women like me to find comfort and healing in these stories. I particularly want the ones who are struggling to feel invited to watch and reflect with me, to ultimately finding meaning and not give up on love.
I want them, through the film, to see love as a value and a choice. It’s not necessarily something that we know innately, it’s something we choose to be grounded in, like the unconditional love of Ella for Malcolm even at his lowest.
Beyond grief, what do you want viewers to take away about love from this film?
There are two main things:
The first, is what became one of the taglines of the film: “love is more than an emotion, it is a force.” I want viewers to see that love gives us power to do things we otherwise wouldn’t be able to. Like the way Khadija’s love for Prophet Mohammed allowed him to believe in his prophethood and expand into what we now know as Islam.
And like I said above, I want them to see love as a value and a choice. When we surround ourselves with love and actively make the choice to ground ourselves in love (for our families, ourselves, for our communities and for God), our lives become transformed.
After traveling through centuries of stories, how would you define love today in just one sentence?
Love is more than an emotion – it is a force.
Tune into Islam’s Greatest Stories of Love airing on PBS starting on August 22 at 9 PM EST.
