In what appears to be a bit of a theme in these columns, I was again late to the party on Channel 4’s We Are Lady Parts. I did clock it in 2021, when I saw an article about a comedy about a female Muslim punk band and thought it looked good, but for some reason didn’t get round to watching.
It wasn’t until the second series came out this May and our eldest daughter Beth recommended it, that we finally watched. And, of course, we loved it immediately, because it’s great.
Like all good TV shows, We are Lady Parts has a brilliant set of characters.
There’s the narrator, Amina (Anjana Vasan), a shy PhD student with a penchant for Don McLean, who, like most of her friends, is looking for a husband. She likes playing the guitar but only in private, as her anxiety makes her throw up (and worse) when she’s on stage.
Lead singer and founder of Lady Parts, Saira, is a halal butcher with dreams of greatness, whose abrasiveness hides a deep sadness in her past.
Easy-going Bisma plays bass guitar, sells her gothic horror cartoons in the market while maintaining a happy home life with her husband and daughter.
The drummer, Ayesha, plays with a frantic energy, her edginess making her an ideal Uber driver to keep her – often – unpleasant passengers in check.
Momtaz, the band manager, who runs a successful lingerie business, is creative and passionate in her mission to get Lady Parts known.
They are well supported by Amina’s oversharing mother (Shobu Kapoor), best friend Noor (Aiysha Hart), and Ayesha’s gorgeous brother Ahsan (Zaqi Ismail).
When Amina runs into Ahsan, handing out adverts for lead guitarist auditions, she is immediately smitten, so follows up in the hope of meeting him again.
Saira, recognising her from school, remembers she can play the guitar and in turn tries to persuade her to join the band. But Amina isn’t into punk, is busy helping her best friend Noor prepare for her wedding and, besides, there’s that little problem she has with stage fright….
A band trying to make it big isn’t an exactly original concept, but We Are Lady Parts soars thanks to Nida Manzoor’s intelligent and witty scripts. Without resorting to stereotypes about Muslim women, she skilfully demonstrates that her characters are as strong and independent as any white liberal feminist, with lives that are equally interesting.
Amina’s friends may be ‘nice’ Muslim women, but they are just as judgmental of the ‘wrong’ clothes or behaviour, as any similar group of cliquey white women.
Saira’s complicated relationship with her family is as much to do with their inability to deal with an unresolved trauma as their disappointment in the way she lives her life.
And, while all five band members are practising Muslims, attending mosque, praying, or wearing the hijab (head scarf) or niqab (face veil) is not something imposed on them, but a personal choice. Nor does it define them – they also have music, motherhood, study, work, dope and the complexities of human relationships to contend with.
As a result, they are all fully rounded individuals we really care about as we watch them fall out, reconcile, mess up their personal lives and work things out.
It’s also refreshing to see what it is like to be on the receiving end of white supremacy, where even the most well-meaning white people are capable of unconscious racism.
And then there is the music. Written by Manzoor, her brother Shez and her sister Sanya, and Benni Fregin, and performed with verve and energy by the actors, the catchy tunes and hilarious lyrics mocking racism, myths about Muslim culture and misogyny are absolute bangers.
My favourite song (whose title I won’t spoil because it is so good) had me laughing so much I almost fell off the sofa. Even their cover versions make you want to get up and dance.
We are Lady Parts is one of those wonderful comedy dramas that can make you laugh and cry, without ever resorting to cheap sentimentality.
Its joyful celebration of UK Muslim culture is long overdue and serves a wonderful riposte to the Islamophobia that is rife in our society today.
So, do give it a watch if you haven’t seen it; I can guarantee you’ll be dancing in the aisles.