Got a ‘Bridgerton’-shaped hole in your heart? Let ‘We Are Lady Parts’ fill it. 

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Is there a “Bridgerton”-shaped hole in your heart? Why not fill it with “We Are Lady Parts” while you wait?

If Bridgerton Season 3: Part 1 and that carriage-riding cliffhanger has you hungering for more — and Part 2 doesn’t drop for weeks! — might we suggest We Are Lady Parts while you wait?

Sure, on the surface, these two shows might seems wildly different, but hear us out. One is a romantic drama series set in Regency-era England’s high society, and the other is a musical sitcom centering modern-day Muslim women whose passion fuels their punk band, Lady Parts. But these series have more in common than you might expect. For starters, they’re both set in London and revolve around a community with rich traditions. Secondly, both offer a rousing story of female empowerment through romance, friendship, and self-discovery through art. But that’s not all. 

Whether you’re hankering for more talk of the Ton or in need of a pick-me-up after a rough day in our modern world, there’s plenty of reason to cheer for We Are Lady Parts — especially since its long-awaited second season hits Peacock at the end of May. So let’s dig in. 

Husband-hunting and romantic fantasies

In Bridgerton, the quest for a good husband is central to many a debutante, be it Season 1’s Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor), Season 2’s Edwina Sharma (Charithra Chandran), or Season 3’s Penelope Featherington (Nicola Coughlan). In We Are Lady Parts, the quest for a husband is actually what lures overachieving microbiology PhD student Amina (Anjana Vasan) into the titular punk band — she’s hoping to get close to drummer Ayesha’s (Juliette Motamed) hot, eligible brother Ahsan (Zaqi Ismail). And the crush of this self-described “crusty spinster” sparks a series of fantasies, dripping in romance.

Fantasizing what their life together could be like, Amina welcomes audiences into black-and-white daydreams in which she and Ahsan play out classic Hollywood scenarios, like the restrained yearning in Casablanca and the chaste chemistry between Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. But, like the Colin Bridgerton to her Penelope Featherington, Ahsan is only interested in being her friend. Well, that is until another suitor enters the picture.

In season 2, Amina meets her Lord Debling in Billy, a white boy who loves folk rock almost as much as she does. Could her long-established Don McLean obsession mean she’s fated to be with Billy? Is Ahsan just jealous? Or has he had a Colin-like awakening about the incredible woman who is his friend but could be so much more? There’s only one way to find out. (WATCH THIS SHOW.)

Sisters united and divided 

Season 2 of Bridgerton featured a heart-wrenching tale of sisterly devotion as Kate Sharma (Simone Ashley) planned to sacrifice her own happiness to the benefit of her younger sibling Edwina (Charithra Chandran). Meanwhile, Penelope Featherington and Eloise Bridgerton (Claudia Jessie) were close as sisters — closer to each other than their own blood sisters, really — but they split over the revelation that the former is secretly the mysterious gossip queen Lady Whistledown. 

In We Are Lady Parts, “sister” is a recurring term of affection. Interviewed for a blog, lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist Saira (Sarah Kameela Impey) describes her bandmates as “sisters who pray together and play together,” showing how the term can be meant for a close personal connection and as a sign of community within the women of the Muslim faith. In the series, the band’s commitment to sisterhood becomes a rallying cry to support each other — even when you want to do anything but. 

In Season 1, this sisterhood compelled hard-headed Saira to mentor Amina through the stage fright that made her freeze or puke. But in Season 2, a similar request for song-writing help is hard for Saira to swallow, as it comes from Gen Z influencer Taifa (Kimani Arthur), whose band Second Wife is blowing up online thanks to their cover of Lady Parts’ banger “Bashir with a Good Beard.” Will Saira’s envy of this younger woman — who is not only ripping her off but thriving financially while doing it — deter her from sharing herself? What does sisterhood demand? 

Social pressures from a tight-knit community

Through her sharp voiceover, Bridgerton‘s Lady Whistledown has educated modern audiences on the strict standards of Regency gentility, while several characters bumbled into faux pas that sparked scandal and threats of alienation. In We Are Lady Parts, Amina’s voiceover provides a similar guide to decorum and pressures, as she grapples with what it means to be a good Muslim woman. Notably, her tone is less judgemental of others and really comically harsh on herself. Through this, sitcom creator Nida Manzoor explores where the social expectations of modern-day Muslim women in London collide with their other identities. 

Season 1 delved into what it means to be Muslim and punk, focusing chiefly on devout but self-doubting Amina. Season 2 expands its scope, exploring rich arcs for Ayesha and Bisma (Faith Omole). For Ayesha, a new love comes with new complications. Dating a white girl with comically accepting parents (they sing a Lady Parts song to show their support of Ayesha), this hot-tempered drummer is forced to confront whether or not she’s ready to come out to her own parents.

It’s an element that first came up in Season 1, episode 5, “Represent,” when Ayesha’s blogger girlfriend Zarina (Sofia Barclay) pushed her to come out publicly in an article on the band. She declined then, but what will she do when another love interest pushes back on her not being out publicly? It’s an arc that easily could lean into tear-jerking cliches of queer drama. But instead, Manzoor keeps in tone with the show’s frenzied and fun attitude, going deep without getting bleak. The result is a conclusion that’s smartly attuned to contemporary queerness in celebrity culture.  

As for Bisma, her interaction with Second Wife’s band members leaves her with an identity crisis. Because her appearance isn’t as hard-core as her bandmates, she is deemed “momcore,” which she takes to mean tragically uncool. She begins to rethink how she wants to present herself in the world — as a punk, as a mom, as a Muslim, and as a Black woman. So, Bisma starts reconsidering whether or not she wants to continue wearing a headscarf or if she should show off her braids.

A passionate debate over the possibilities with her loving partner sparks a fantasy sequence that is at first funny; she literally pushes pause on a remote and freezes her family and the whole world as she processes her thoughts through song. But Omole’s soulful cover of “Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” swells with a flurry of emotions, perfectly capturing the identity crisis of this multi-hyphenate heroine. 

Through sharp and spirited arcs, We Are Lady Parts shows how these conversations around identity and what we owe the public of our private selves are complicated and deeply personal.

Leading a double life and finding one’s self through art

In Bridgerton, wallflower Penelope found her confidence in a nom de plume. With Lady Whistledown, she could deliver the social critiques and exasperation that roared inside her with confident wit. Amina leads a similar double life in We Are Lady Parts. 

Amina’s childhood friends — led by the ever-prim Noor (Aiysha Hart) — are always pleasant and often wearing pastel pink as they focus on the marriage market of modern London. The members of Lady Parts rock punk looks, from dramatic eyeliner to flannels and black-on-black attire, while focusing on their music and being unashamed to say, “Fuck that.”

It’s only with the latter group that Amina can confess her secret shame in Season 1: She’s horny for Ahsan. But rather than scold her as Noor does, they join in a jam session that births “Bashir with the Good Beard.” Within this hallowed space, catharsis and community thrive as she is expressing the parts of herself she thought she had to hide. (Notably, like Eloise, Noor has a scorching meltdown when she discovers her friend’s secret writing.) 

With Season 2, more of the bandmates explore their inner desires, fears, and messier emotions through one badass song after another. And even Noor’s perfect facade gets complicated cracks!

Bridgerton and We Are Lady Parts both have killer soundtracks. 

Bridgerton has superb orchestral covers of pop hits like BTS’s “Dynamite,” Billie Eilish’s “Happier Than Ever,” and Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything.” We Are Lady Parts has kick-ass covers too, like the aforementioned “Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood,” a punk spin on Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5,” and a cheeky revision of the American folk song “Man of Constant Sorrow.” But that’s not all. 

“Bashir with the Good Beard” is their most popular song, reflecting a longing that some (like Noor) consider indecent. Season 1’s “Voldemort Under My Headscarf” mocks Islamophobia with cheeky Harry Potter allusions. And in Season 2, the band pulls a Beyonce with the Western-influenced “Malala Made Me Do It.” But most moving might be their rebellion against the pushy A&R rep (a smug white guy) who insist on putting his mark on Lady Parts’ debut album. Their seething response track, “Glass Ceiling Feeling,” is an anthem that evokes Mary Poppins’ “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” with a playful irreverence and full-throated fury that reflects exactly why this show is so satisfying. Femininity, ferocity, and funny come hand-in-hand with every episode and every new song.

So, whether you’re seeking a bit of romantic fantasy, tales of female friendship’s ups and downs, or just a keenly satisfying comedy that blends badass music with compelling heroines, you ought to tune in to We Are Lady Parts. And turn the volume up. You’ll be glad you did. 

How to watch: We Are Lady Parts Season 2 premieres May 30 on Peacock in the U.S. and Channel 4 in the UK.

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