You can always expect the unexpected from Nemahsis. It’s February, the day of her second Toronto show, and we are on the heels of back-to-back snowstorms when our plans for a pre-show interview go awry. With just hours to go, the singer’s manager tells me we need to postpone the interview — and that the show will also, most likely, be called off. But there’s another thing you should know about Palestinian-Canadian pop musician Nemahsis: She’s gonna persevere.
Despite feeling under the weather, Nemah Hassan, best known by her stage name Nemahsis, decides not to cancel her show. “I think that even if my voice were to be shot, there's so much more to me than my voice, you know? I'll stomp around the stage with the [Palestinian] flag,” she tells Teen Vogue backstage post-show, a spur-of-the-moment change from our plan to reschedule as a remote interview. “I'll let the crowd sing it if I have to. But my energy is still there, the music is still there, the people are still there.”
Despite her assured answer, the decision to push forward with the show wasn’t an obvious one for Nemahsis. “I want to give them the best performance. And then everyone, like Seago and Harper, who opened for me, was like: ‘It's more than the music. Just, like, show up, and people will be so happy to have you.’”
The energy backstage is proof that it is, indeed, more than just the music. Long after the show is done, friends like writer Sarah Hagi, singer Dylan Sinclair, and other folks in the Toronto creative scene wait by the stage, entering Nemahsis’s dressing room to congratulate the Verbathim singer on her home show. Despite the long line of well-wishers, she takes her time with every individual.
A few laughs and warm embraces later, Nemahsis’s friendliness lingers as she switches to interview mode. The vibe is punctuated by members of the band and crew popping in and out, the singer peppering in personal banter with them as they snack on olives, fries, and wraps. Halfway through our chat, Nemahsis pauses mid-thought, beaming at the band member who just walked in, wishing them a happy birthday. Good vibes are bursting at the seams, and it’s evident that Nemahsis is a people person.
Her temperament makes thinking about community second nature, whether she’s on or off the stage. Halfway through her set, for instance, she prompted a technician to turn on the lights, then dipped backstage to get binoculars so she could get a good look at the crowd. Amid complimenting a fan’s makeup and how it matched her hijab, shouting out friends and family, and inviting attendees onstage, Nemahsis shared an unexpected challenge from the tour: “I didn’t realize that setting up a merch booth would be so expensive,” she said, pointing out a responsibility that is unique to independent artists.
As with any challenge that comes her way, though, the singer used the opportunity to make her own rules, gifting her merch to select attendees onstage while showing off her can-do scrappiness with QR code-adorned flyers that link to an online shop. Her presence when interacting with the audience was comparable to when she performed her songs, and if this was impacted by her feeling under the weather, I couldn’t tell. Nemahsis’s approach as an artist is so rooted in sharing space — in linking arms with her listeners.
But her artistic intent isn’t obvious to everyone, and it has often been misinterpreted. In a previous profile, she shared that her unwavering support for Palestinian liberation led to labels backstepping their interest in her, writing her off as too outspoken or controversial.
Over a year later, though, Nemahsis is distanced from that moment, having gone on to independently produce an album. Now she’s nominated for three JUNO Awards — Canada’s foremost music industry ceremony, akin to the US Grammys and the UK’s BRIT Awards — in the songwriter, alternative album, and breakthrough artist of the year categories.
The prospect of winning an award would make any emerging artist's heart flutter, but Nemahsis is focused on another goal: meeting Tate McRae. The unexpected confession, she recalls, made her team burst out laughing when they first heard it, which perplexed her. “I'm on the spectrum. I didn't understand what was so funny about it,” she says. “It was the truth! And then I realized, like, wow — yeah, that’s the joke.”
Nemahsis’s recent (and long-overdue) recognition in the music industry goes hand in hand with her coming up in the fashion scene. After attending Thom Browne’s fall-winter 2025 show in New York and participating in “Waves,” an event by Bottega Veneta that fuses music, culture, and fashion, she’s discovered a space that supports her wholeheartedly. “I think I found my pocket. The weirdos that make really cool clothing, that want me in those rooms and stuff,” she says, reflecting on days in school when people wrote her off as not being well dressed, othering her because of her hijab. What used to segregate Nemahsis now makes her stand out in a saturated scene.
She lights up at the mention of her latest fashion fixation, which also happens to be a main component of her show ’fit: a hat by Toronto designer Joel Nelson of Opus 78. “I think it's the best piece because it elevates hijab without compromising it,” Nemahsis explains, demonstrating all the ways the piece can be customized. The sound of Velcro attaching and detaching on the now sold-out Bandage Beanie is as satisfying to hear as it is to watch the excitement on her face as she models the garment’s niftiness. “I don't have to worry about my baby hairs coming out, and I can make it really tight if I want to,” she continues. “I don't have to wear hijab under it, and it covers everything if I want.” She nods to Lilyana Khoshaba, her stylist: “You put me on it.”
Before embarking on the Don’t Go Where You’d Hate to Be Found 12-stop tour, Nemahsis and Khoshaba put together a wardrobe mood board titled “Fisherman/Fence/Sailor Uprise,” which was the starting point for her onstage outfits. The board, inspired by her grandfather's migration from Palestine to Canada, references old advertisements aimed at newcomers, the country calling for “cheap labor.” It is filled with photos of fishermen with nets, invoking Nemahsis’s grandfather's arrival by boat and commonality with the fishnet design on the keffiyeh. Nautical themes are infused with motifs of protection, and Nemahsis and Khoshaba thoughtfully tether lived experiences to physical garments, symbolic of hard work. This manifests a series of stylish ensembles featuring a mix of renowned and emerging designers alike, including Jacquemus, Pillar, and Miista, in understated shades of black and white, punctuated with dynamic silhouettes.
Nemahsis’s beauty routine is also rooted in intention. Her makeup bag is filled with goodies from Huda Beauty, a Middle Eastern-owned beauty brand. Nemahsis lists the products she uses, from a trustworthy primer to a finishing touch of kohl eyeliner. It’s a fair assumption that the performer thinks the products are good — maybe even too good. With the brand’s viral faux filter concealer, “it looked like I didn't have pores,” she says. “To the point where I was like, ‘Hey, I'm not gonna wear that because it looks too good.’ Sometimes I want to look a little worn in.”
Beyond the music she writes and the clothes she wears, who is Nemahsis, really? For starters, and in the nature of a true Torontonian, she’s a gal who really loves this raccoon meme. “People add different texts to it. But it's the ‘Mama, I threw up’ that really made me believe in that image,” she says with a laugh. Nemahsis is also a Canadian-winter apologist who believes that the distinct four seasons are essential to preserving one’s mental health — 60-cm snowstorms and all. She thinks the best burger in Toronto is at Matty Patty’s (owned by Matty Matheson of The Bear fame), was subconsciously inspired by Canadian songstress Feist’s approach to pop music, and will leave things in better condition than how she found them. “I’m obsessed with cleaning appliances,” she says, letting me in on how she cleaned the concert venue’s kettle before the show.
“These tea kettles out here are gross,” she adds with a grave look on her face. “You know that person that’s like, ‘Ew, I don’t wanna touch stuff in the sink’? I’m the girl — I’ll do it gladly. All the people who come after me, they’re gonna be like, ‘Wow, this is actually a clean kettle!’ They don’t know it was me.” (Nemahsis’s desire to leave things better than she found them transcends a tidy kitchen, so she is actively paving the way for Muslims in the arts.)
Her getting-ready routine and meticulous personality might suggest a mindset in which no small thing is overlooked. It’s true, but there is also a larger vision at play. Toward the end of her show, she sang “What If I Took It Off for You,” the track from her debut EP, Eleven Archers, that first got her into the spotlight, and dedicated the song to modest dressers and hijabi wearers, hoping they would not only feel seen but empowered. While she crooned "I thought I should take it off for you/What a fool/I'm such a fool," the artist then broke from the original lyrics and offered an alternative ending: She sang out that she’s not a fool, and the sound rippled throughout the venue. The audience moved alongside her, and the meaningful message lingered long after the show had ended. For Nemahsis, that’s always going to be a guarantee.
