When Channel 4 show We Are Lady Parts first burst onto screens five years ago, I was totally blown away.
Energetic, buzzing off the walls and packed with a humorous punch, Nida Manzoor’s off-the-walls TV show about an all-Muslim women punk rock band was bonkers and boundary-pushing in all the best ways.
It’s no secret that Muslim representation on British TV has left something to be desired. In my opinion, comedies like Citizen Khan actively spun the dial backwards with its lazy stereotypes and grating humour, or we’re terrorists (I’m looking at you, Bodyguard).
If we’re lucky, we might graduate to victim status, waiting to be rescued.
Otherwise, for much of my life, I’ve had to make do with snatches from characters like Nas in Ackley Bridge and Guz Khan’s iconic series Man Like Mobeen. Essentially, it was slim pickings.
So, when We Are Lady Parts landed in 2021, I could not believe my eyes (or ears).
A TV series with nuanced and fleshed-out Muslim women at its heart, who are defined by their love for music and rocking out – it was nothing short of a miracle.
Before I get ahead of myself, let me catch you up.
We Are Lady Parts (named for the band in the show) centres on biochemical engineering PhD student Amina Hussein (Anjana Vasan), who joins a female Muslim punk band trying to make it in the business we call show.
As she finds herself torn between two worlds, she navigates love, heartache, cultural faux pas, and dazzling new friendships. It’s feel-good, heartwarming, and, to be frank, an utterly compelling premise.
As Metro’s glowing review put it at the time, it’s about self-expression, sisterhood and steering clear of stereotypes – my favourite trio!
I found myself drawn, in some way, to all the leading punk rockers – by-the-book Amina, deadpan Ayesha, strong-willed Saira, kind-hearted Bisma, powerhouse manager Momtaz – and the struggles they face throughout the show.
It’s relatable for its portrayal of the diaspora experience, the straddling of cultures, the bravery it takes to go against the grain and also its reflection of Muslim women, who are so much more than what the media traditionally portrays them as.
We are layered, varied and full of life.
In a TV landscape of rinse-and-repeat thrillers, it truly was a breath of fresh air. And that’s not even mentioning the iconic soundtrack it pumped out, with an edgy socio-political verve, including favourites: Voldemort Under My Headscarf, Bashir with The Good Beard and Villain Era.
In fact, I’m listening to the soundtrack as I write this piece and can confirm: back-to-back bangers. (Lest we forget Malala’s season two cameo in the inimitable Malala Made Me Do It).
I’m not alone in my praise of the show.
The first series has a perfect 100% Rotten Tomatoes critics’ score, and for good reason.
It’s been called everything from ‘loud, raucous and unapologetic’ to ‘endearingly vulnerable’ to ‘a lot of fun’ to just about everything in between.
Vanity Fair’s reviewer said the six-episode hit was ‘so rewarding that I watched it twice’ and Entertainment Weekly declared: ‘Like any good punk song, We Are Lady Parts is short, intense, and unapologetic.’
It was just as much of a riot when it returned for a second season in 2024, and I already miss its presence on my screen. I’m yet to find anything quite like it.
Five years since it first premiered, this bite-sized show has stood the test of time and deserves every bit of praise it’s had
We Are Lady Parts is streaming on Channel 4 now.