We Are LadyParts: A Riotous Anthem for Representation

We Are LadyParts is truly one of a kind. First airing on Channel 4 in 2021 and making its triumphant return in 2024, this bold sitcom about an all-female Muslim punk rock band shakes up mainstream television in the best possible way. It’s chaotic, whimsical, loud, and brilliantly silly, all while exploring what it means to be a woman, nurture creativity, and find your voice. It’s very refreshing to witness Muslim women being given a platform to represent themselves in a positive light where four Muslim women are the centre of the show and they're fun, creative and real.They aren’t afraid to speak their mind or in desperate need of being saved. They're not your average Muslim women that the mainstream TV shoves down your throat time and time again. 

In season one, we’re introduced to each of the women who make up the band as they embark on their unconventional musical journey, determined not to make “sucky music.” By season two, chaos reigns supreme as the group chase their big break, face new rivals, and experience moments of growth, revelation, and glorious self-destruction.

At the heart of it all is Amina, a nervous, dreamy aspiring guitarist who longs for a fairy-tale life complete with a husband, a Don McLean soundtrack, and musical success. She’s anxious and girly, performing only in the safety of her bedroom. Deeply aware of how her artistic ambitions might clash with her faith, Amina never truly believed a path in music was open to her. That is, until fate (and some not-so-gentle persuasion) pushes her into becoming the band’s lead guitarist.“I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be noticed, and it turns out that’s exhausting,” she discovers. Amina’s anxiety is a survival instinct, not her personality. Her energy mirrors the band’s sound: shaky at first, then louder once she plugs in.

Then there’s Saira, a butcher by day and punk rocker by night, who embodies confidence, rage, and fierce independence. She’s intense, passionate, and driven by grief and estrangement from her family, pain that gives her art both weight and fire. Watching Saira struggle between anger and love, we hope she eventually learns to accept the affection her friends offer and extend that same grace toward herself.

The show’s music is a triumph in its own right. With provocative and cheeky track names like “Voldemort Under My Headscarf”, “Bashir with the Good Beard”, and “Fish and Chips”, each song carries a message about identity, frustration, belonging, and freedom. Part spoken word, part punk performance, their sound isn’t just rebellious: it’s political. These women claim the right to look, live, and express themselves however they choose. Their music is their manifesto, a celebration of individuality and an invitation to others to speak out, too. The soundtrack also carries a political undertone of what it means to be a Muslim woman in the West and how stereotypes can cause huge damage to one’s image and agency. By crafting characters with real depth, vulnerability, and humour, We Are LadyParts shatters stereotypes and pushes forward authentic representation of Muslim women. It’s a chaotic, heartfelt love letter to creativity and a reminder that punk isn’t just a sound; it’s an attitude.

Bisma is a hippie, spiritual, and whimsical woman who is raising her daughter to voice her opinion and learn the true value of self-love. Huge responsibility! Bisma is ultimately the peace maker of the group through her calm energy and positive outlook on the world but don’t be mistaken by her external persona. When she has a microphone, she unveils her rage through spoken word and her faithful bass guitar, but her rage is not anger, it’s frustration that people don’t see the beauty of their bodies and minds. “Art is how I scream quietly,” she says, and she wants her voice to be empowering: a floodgate to more open conversations about the experiences our bodies face throughout our lives. 

The band experiences both highs and lows as they strive to work together and build a lasting connection beyond the rehearsal space. This process is challenging because each member has a different communication style and a unique vision for their future. For instance, Amina aims to attain a PhD, Saira dreams of touring the world, Bisma wants to explore visual storytelling, and Ayesha hopes that the band will remain intact. With external pressures pulling them in various directions, the team must collectively determine what they want from the band and revisit the question of what originally brought them together.

The drummer, Ayesha, has always been the black sheep of her family. With her deep love for rock and metal music and her straightforward personality, she possesses many layers and hidden depths that evoke both laughter and tears. Although she believes that “Anger doesn’t make us ugly. It makes us honest”, Ayesha struggles to express her feelings, so the band means everything to her; it's her way of controlling how she wants to be perceived. Ayesha questions her sexuality, which is a huge deal for her, as being attracted to women is something she has suppressed for a long time.Having to hide herself from those closest to her leads her to question her whole identity and understanding where she belongs in life. On one hand she is Muslim, and knows what her community and maybe those closest to her would think of her if she were to openly be gay. But on the other hand she’s not being true to herself, which could explain why she constantly lives in battle mode with herself. 

We are LadyParts is a step in the right direction of accurate representation of Muslim women. For years in mainstream TV Muslim women have had little to no screen time, and when we have appeared on screen, we have been subjected to the same reused stereotypes, Muslim women portrayed as oppressed victims due to their religion and culture. This isn’t what a Muslim woman is or looks like in the real world, nor is this an interesting or well developed character. It’s simply just a harmful stereotype that is fueled by political propaganda. We Are LadyParts has debunked a lot of myths and generalisations of Muslim women. It offers a different and more promising direction of representation that portrays Muslim women as powerful, strong and hilarious.

The Estate - review

The Estate explores the pressures ethnic minorities face to conform in predominantly white spaces. Angad Singh, a British-Sikh MP, unexpectedly rises in his party's leadership race after the leader resigns due to a scandal. Initially reluctant, he becomes a favourite, fueled by ambition and a desire to prove his critics wrong, particularly his late father.

Angad is depicted as a level-headed yet insecure aspirant for political power, keen to honour his father's sacrifices and show the utmost gratitude for all his father has sacrificed for him: “I need to show that breaking his back meant something.” His father's unexpected death and the decision to leave all his money to Angad, despite having two sisters, create tension. Gyan and Malicka argue for equal division of the estate, revealing issues of patriarchal inheritance and past family abuse. Angad struggles to balance his political ambitions and his loyalty to his father's wishes against fairness to his sisters, expressing resentment as they never faced the same harsh treatment he did.

Gyan and Malicka are opposites and could be described as yin and yang. Malicka is known as the catty and argumentative sibling who has a lot of anger at the fact her father never looked in her direction nor cared for her the way he did for Angad. Whereas Gyan is the peace maker, trying to hold together what’s left of their dysfunctional family. 

 A major theme of the play is holding people of colour in politics to a higher account because they speak for communities that are underrepresented. Angad questions why he is being called out for wanting the same success and values as a white politician. Does this make him the villain of the play? Well, to his sisters. The leadership race seems to be uncovering wider issues we face today in society. Angad unofficially announces he would be a great fit to run his party into victory at his father’s funeral in his local Gurdwara. Themes are portrayed such as classes, misogyny, and the pressures of political ambition, which are contemporary in today’s society, where the political world and family life clash with one another.

The ending was curated to make the audience take in everything that has happened since Angad received his father's will and the monster it has brought out in him. But what was quite remarkable was that Angad was so blinded by the potential power he could hold that he became his father, a person who didn’t show much empathy or love to his family. 

The Estate asks uncomfortable questions with wit and precision, and it leaves you still wondering integral questions posed throughout the play long after the curtain falls. 

Redeeming Six - review

Redeeming Six from the Boys of Tommen series is an emotional rollercoaster: so  raw, painful, and filled with grief and loss that there were many times I wanted to put the book down for my own sanity. 

The story follows on from Saving Six, which focuses on Joey Lynch, the second eldest of six siblings, and tells the story of a boy forced to grow up far too soon. Raised in a home marked by abuse, neglect, and alcoholism, Joey carries the weight of protecting his younger siblings and his mother while enduring his own trauma in silence. With everyone depending on him, the question becomes: who is there to protect Joey?

That person is Aoife. Strong, compassionate, and fiercely loyal, she has loved Joey since the day they met. Watching their relationship grow from childhood friendship to something deeper was both beautiful and heartbreaking. Their bond faces constant obstacles, and every setback hits just as hard for the reader as it does for them.

Chloe Walsh does an incredible job exploring mental health and trauma, drawing from real-life experiences to shine a light on issues that are often left unspoken. Walsh has been open about the inspiration behind Joey's character, saying: “I poured a lot of pain into the character to cope with personal pain and mental anguish.” Joey’s inner dialogue was especially devastating; his constant self-blame and belief that he’s “just like his father” felt painfully real. As the pressure becomes too much, he turns back to drugs in search of relief, even as life demands more of him than ever.

The surprise pregnancy storyline was the one element I struggled with. While I understand what Walsh may have been trying to portray, the teenage pregnancy trope didn’t fully work for me and felt like it leaned into a cycle that doesn’t reflect everyone’s reality. 

With Joey soon becoming a father, his life begins to spiral further downwards. Lacking both financial and mental support for his girlfriend, he disconnects from reality and falls into depression. He desperately needs help, and I rooted for Joey because he truly deserves to be happy and loved. 

Walsh does a fantastic job of portraying the reality of addiction—it's never a simple journey, nor is it easy to let go. There are ongoing battles to face, honest and painful conversations to have, and a constant recognition that the desire will always linger during the recovery process.

Another aspect I loved was the significance of words in people's lives. Joey had a negative and toxic view of himself, which prevented him from seeing the beauty he brought into the world. However, his siblings, Aoife, and other adults in his life showed him just how loved and cherished he truly was.  “You might not love yourself,” Aoife tells him, “but I love you enough for the both of us.” This support ultimately led him to go to rehab and turn his life around, all while becoming an amazing father. As Aoife says: “You have got a beautiful mind, Joey Lynch, and a beautiful heart. You can beat this, you just have to want to.”

Redeeming Six is an incredibly powerful and emotional read. Joey and Aoife’s story is heartbreaking and hopeful, and stays with you long after the final page. 

Maleeha wrote this review as part of Jumped Up Theatre’s Young Reviewers programme.