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.
