Stills from We Are Lady Parts season 2, coming May 30
A NOTE FROM NIDA MANZOOR (CREATOR/WRITER/DIRECTOR/EXECUTIVE PRODUCER) IN PEACOCK'S PRESS RELEASE:
Making season one of We Are Lady Parts was immense for me. It was a trial by fire, but I found my voice, my style and my confidence in creating this show. Most importantly, I found my tribe - from actors and crew to producers and studio execs. So, coming to season two, I was galvanised. The characters, the world, the tone - it was all there, established, and ready to go. Now it was time to turn things up to 11. I wanted to go bolder, sillier, darker and deeper and that is exactly what we strived to do.
In season two, we explore the interior lives of each of the women in more depth. Each of them facing new, existential challenges with all the silliness, pratfalls and banter of season one. The music is bigger too - more wild original tunes (penned by me and my siblings) and dare I say it, even better covers. The season overall asks the question of success. What is success? For a punk band - is fame, stadium shows and major record deals the answer? I wanted to explore the uncomfortable tension between art and commerce and ask how much compromise is too much. I'm really proud of what we achieved, and can't wait to share it with old fans and new.
i felt more when we played pretend than with all the kens (i used to switch out these kens, i’d just ghost) how dare you think it’s romantic, leaving me save and stranded? (please leave me stranded, it’s so romantic) i stopped cpr, after all, it’s no use (i can’t find a pulse, my heart won’t start anymore) i died on the altar waiting for the proof (i’d marry you with paper rings. he better lock it down. the only kinda girl they see is a one-night or a wife) you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days (don’t want no other shade of blue but you) two graves, one gun, you’ll find someone (my only one, my smoking gun) growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all (i never grew up, it’s getting so old) my friends tried but i wouldn’t hear it, watched me daily, disappearing for just one glimpse of his smile (tell your friends you’re out for a run, you’ll be flushed when you return) i leap from the gallows and i levitate down your street, crash the party like a record scratch (i’m a monster on the hill; too big too hang out, slowly lurching towards your favorite city) the jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud (you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me) i can’t get out of bed because something counterfeit is dead (it must be counterfeit, i think there’s been a glitch) i would’ve died for your sins, instead i just died inside (i gave it my all, he gave me nothing at all) six weeks of breathing clean air, i still miss the smoke (ten months sober, i must admit, just because you’re clean don’t mean you don’t miss it)