“I will not change how I eat. I will not change the faith I am proud to belong to. But there is one thing I will change — I will no longer look for myself in the shadow. I will find myself in the light.”
With these words, Zohran Mamdani set the tone for what his historic mayoral campaign in New York represents — not just for America, but for democracies around the world where religion is weaponized to divide.
Mamdani’s campaign and triumph answered two age-old questions: Can faith be separated from politics? And more importantly, why must it be?
His win proved that while religion might never be fully absent from politics, the politics of hate in the name of religion can indeed be defeated.
A Muslim Candidate Who Refused to Be a “Muslim Candidate”
What makes Zohran Mamdani’s journey remarkable is that he never hid his Muslim identity, nor did he seek votes in its name.
His supporters urged him to stay silent when attacked for being Muslim. But he chose speech over silence. He told New Yorkers — yes, he was a Muslim, but above all, he was a citizen seeking the same dignity and equality every New Yorker deserved.
“I am a Muslim,” he said, “but I am not a Muslim candidate. I want to be a leader who fights for every New Yorker — no matter their skin color, religion, or birthplace.”
That clarity disarmed his opponents. He didn’t run from his identity; he transcended it.
The Politics of Dignity vs. The Politics of Fear
For over two decades after 9/11, American Muslims lived under suspicion. Hate was institutionalized — from the airport to the ballot box. Mamdani, a son of immigrants, walked right into that storm.
Opponents painted him as dangerous. Ads funded by billionaires showed his beard exaggerated, his image darkened. TV hosts accused him of wanting to “chair another 9/11.” Others mocked the way he ate.
It was Islamophobia with corporate funding.
Mamdani’s answer was radical — not anger, but empathy. He spoke not just for Muslims, but for all marginalized New Yorkers: the ones who couldn’t afford bus fares, housing, or healthcare.
His campaign revolved around simple, humane issues:
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Free public transport for working-class people.
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Affordable housing in a city where the poor are being pushed farther away.
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Dignity for all, regardless of background.
He reframed the debate — from who belongs to who benefits.
Hate Has Billion-Dollar Sponsors
Mamdani pulled the curtain on something most politicians avoid discussing — how corporate money sustains hate.
He named companies that funded his opponent’s Islamophobic propaganda. “They don’t fear my faith,” he said, “they fear fair wages.”
If workers gain power, corporations lose profits. So they distract the public — through hate, fear, and division.
As Mamdani put it:
“The billionaire class seeks to convince those making $30 an hour that their enemies are those earning $20 an hour. They want us to fight each other, so we forget who truly controls the system.”
It’s the same playbook used across the world — including in India.
Lessons for India
India’s politics runs on similar fuel.
While millions struggle for food, jobs, and education, leaders keep the nation busy fighting imaginary enemies.
The politics of “send them to Pakistan” and “illegal infiltrators” thrives because it’s easier to inflame hatred than to fix hunger.
Even opposition leaders, fearing electoral backlash, shy away from openly supporting Muslim voices or religious minorities.
They whisper when courage demands they speak.
Mamdani did the opposite — he stood beside Imams in public, he embraced his faith openly, and yet, he never made it his electoral plank.
He showed that the antidote to fear is not silence, but visibility.
His politics wasn’t about Muslims, it was about New Yorkers — and that made all the difference.
A New Kind of Campaign: Humanity as Strategy
Mamdani’s campaign turned issues like bus fares into symbols of justice.
New York’s working class — 1.3 million people who commute by bus daily — became central to his vision.
Slow buses meant lost hours, lost wages, and lost dignity.
By fighting for faster, cheaper public transport, Mamdani wasn’t just talking policy — he was talking respect.
He made the working person’s time valuable again.
It’s a politics India’s cities could learn from — where millions commute for hours each day, losing health and hope while leaders argue about faith.
Beyond Religion, Beyond Hate
Zohran Mamdani’s victory is more than electoral. It’s moral.
It proved that people can see through billion-dollar propaganda.
That the politics of fear, no matter how powerful, cannot outlast the politics of belonging.
That you can be proud of your faith without turning it into a weapon.
In a world increasingly consumed by division, Mamdani’s campaign feels like the fresh air Ravish Kumar described — the air many nations are still waiting to breathe.
The Light We Must Step Into
Zohran Mamdani's line now reads less like a statement and more like a manifesto for our times:
“I will no longer look for myself in the shadow. I will find myself in the light.”
Mamdani found his light — not by abandoning faith or identity, but by refusing to let them be twisted into tools of fear.
The rest of us — in Delhi, in Lucknow, in New York — might ask:
Are we still living in the shadows others built for us?
Or are we ready to walk into the light ourselves?
In defeating the politics of hate, Zohran Mamdani hasn’t just changed New York — he’s offered a lesson for the world: the future belongs not to those who divide, but to those who dare to unite.
