There are TV shows, and then there’s We Are Lady Parts—a show so singularly brilliant it feels less like watching and more like being invited into someone’s chaotic, beautiful, punk-as-hell heart. Created by the incomparable Nida Manzoor, We Are Lady Parts doesn’t just break molds—it smashes them with a guitar riff, a sly grin, and a Malala-inspired cowboy punk song.
If you haven’t binged both seasons yet, you’re seriously missing out on what might just be the best show right now.
Found Family, Punk Rock, and So Much More
At its core, We Are Lady Parts is about found family and sisterhood. It’s about queerness in all its complexity, the layers of being Muslim combined with an array of other identities, and the beauty of women just being unapologetically themselves. Manzoor weaves these themes seamlessly, sprinkling in romance, biting humor, and one-liners so good they could be tattooed: “Ain’t no one gonna honor kill my sister but me” has a permanent spot on my Spotify playlist. And while the story of found family anchors the show, it’s the music that truly ignites its spirit.
Amina’s journey from an anxious scientist to a confident guitarist underscores how personal growth thrives in the embrace of chosen family. Saira’s struggle with leadership reveals the pressures of balancing ambition with vulnerability, making her the band’s steady yet complicated core. And while the story of found family anchors the show, it’s the music that truly ignites its spirit.
The Music: A Soundtrack for Rebellion
The music of We Are Lady Parts is a character unto itself. With its original soundtrack blending punk rebellion and cultural specificity, the show serves banger after banger: “Voldemort Under My Headscarf,” “Bashir with the Good Beard,” “Glass Ceiling Feeling” and “Supercalifraga-racist-sexist-xenophobic.” It’s the kind of playlist that makes you want to start a band, dye your hair neon, and tear down every patriarchal structure in sight. Every track feels like a middle finger to the system and a love letter to everyone who’s ever felt “too much” or “not enough.”
Season 2 took it up a notch with covers that nobody saw coming, like a punk rendition of “The Reason” by Hoobastank and “Oops!... I Did It Again.” These tracks don’t just punctuate the story—they propel it, turning every episode into a mini-concert that’s equal parts catharsis and chaos.
Season 2: Punk Goes Poignant
The sophomore season dives deeper into identity and success, exploring the band’s modest fame and the challenges that come with it. From Amina’s newfound self-confidence to the group’s struggle with recording their debut album, every character arc is a masterclass in balancing humour with heart.
Bisma’s journey, especially her exploration of Blackness within the Muslim community, resonates powerfully. Her candid conversations about her hair reflect deeper questions of self-identity and cultural pride. Meanwhile, the unseen band manager, Momtaz, continues to command attention, her mysterious presence a symbolic rejection of the male gaze.
And then there’s the rival band—a perfect foil that forces our Lady Parts to confront their own insecurities and grow, both as musicians and as a found family. It’s a season that feels richer, sharper, and more unapologetically punk than ever.
Representation That Feels Like a Hug and a Riot
We Are Lady Parts is a story that feels alive, unapologetically itself. From the first episode, it’s clear that Manzoor is telling a story that’s as specific as it is universal.
At the center of the show are five incredible women, each navigating the intersections of faith, queerness, and punk rebellion. For the first time, we see Black Muslim, queer South Asians, and awkward, punk-loving hijab-wearing women navigating life without being reduced to stereotypes.
Amina (Anjana Vasan), a shy microbiologist-turned-guitarist, captures the tension of wanting to belong while staying true to yourself. Her journey is as awkward and endearing as it is deeply relatable, reflecting the messy process of self-discovery.
Saira (Sarah Kameela), the band’s gritty frontwoman, holds the group together with sheer will. She’s raw, determined, and endlessly complex, showing us that leadership often means walking the line between control and vulnerability.
Ayesha (Juliette Motamed), with her fierce drumming and quick temper, is the band’s pulse. Her loyalty runs deep, even as she wrestles with showing her softer side, proving that strength can take many forms.
Bisma (Faith Omole), the bassist and cartoonist, brings warmth and insight. Her conversations about her hair, her art, and what it means to be a Black Muslim woman are subtle yet profound, pushing the boundaries of how we see intersectionality on screen.
Then there’s Momtaz (Lucie Shorthouse), the unseen force who keeps the band running. Draped in a niqab, she’s a mystery—sharp, strategic, and unapologetically badass. Her quiet defiance challenges every lazy stereotype about Muslim women, proving that power doesn’t need to be loud to be felt.
Together, these women navigate the chaos of identity, faith, and ambition, carving out a space that feels authentic and deeply moving. They don’t fit neatly into any box—and that’s exactly what makes them unforgettable.
A Triumph in Storytelling
Technically, We Are Lady Parts is as sharp as its writing. Manzoor’s direction is electric, with inventive camerawork and editing that keeps every scene dynamic. The comedy lands hard, but the emotional beats? They hit harder.
And let’s not forget the journey this show took—it started as a short film (Lady Parts), a proof of concept that evolved into one of the most innovative series on TV. If you haven’t watched the short yet, do yourself a favor. It’s all there: the humour, the heart, and yes, Amina’s iconic vomit audition.
Why You Need to Watch It (Again)
Hilarious, poignant, and painfully underrated, We Are Lady Parts is everything you didn’t know you needed. It’s a love letter to punk rock, found family, and unapologetic Muslim women, wrapped in some of the most exciting TV direction and music of recent years.
The show’s blend of biting comedy, layered intersectionality, and bold creativity is unmatched. It’s Fleabag for brown girls. It’s Sex Education with a hijab and a guitar. It’s punk rock perfection.
A Triumphant Finale
Season 2 concludes on a high note, delivering a resonant and satisfying ending. It’s a reminder that the punk rebellion of Lady Parts isn’t just about music—it’s about defying expectations, breaking barriers, and creating space for the stories we didn’t know we were waiting for.
While it feels like the perfect bookend to the story, it also leaves us hopeful for more from Nida Manzoor, whose career trajectory continues to inspire with hits like Polite Society. If there isn’t another season, we’ll be forever grateful for the two perfect ones we got. But if there’s more on the horizon, we’re tuning in—guitars, Malala cowboy hats, and all.
The Punk Rebellion We Needed
To paraphrase the show: “Go crank up Bashir with the Good Beard, lean into the chaos, and remember—this is what revolution sounds like.” Whether or not there’s another season, We Are Lady Parts has already made history. And we’re so glad to have been part of the ride.
We could dive deeper into the brilliant twists and unforgettable moments, but honestly, We Are Lady Parts deserves to be experienced firsthand. No spoilers here—just trust us and go watch it. You'll thank us later.
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