THE NAME IS MAMDANI

New York is vibrating from our historical mayoral election this past Tuesday, November 4, 2025. One hundred thousand volunteers door knocking and deep canvassing for months. Two million voters, more than any other in decades. Tens of millions of dollars poured into racist Islamophobic campaigns by billionaires and the Democratic establishment. But as satisfying as the numbers are, I’m more charmed that my mom sent me a Democracy Now clip about the Bangladeshi aunties who canvassed for Zohran, despite the fact that it’s a media outlet she doesn’t usually follow (but of course, the Bangladeshi WhatsApp group chats were blowing up). I have LOVED hopescrolling and reading messages from friends from all over the country and the world about the Big Apple’s 111th mayor. And I held hands and cried with Mira listening to Zohran’s victory speech invoking the strength and dignity and power of immigrants.

It has all felt particularly moving after the cruelties of this past year. I haven’t had the mind-space to love us, because I’ve been too caught up with how to help us. I live in Jackson Heights, Queens, one of the most diverse (and delicious) places on earth, and ICE has been terrorizing and disappearing my neighbours for months. Most recently, they have been using the local TD Bank parking lot as their staging grounds, and my local JHI (Jackson Heights Indivisible) group has kicked into gear, training up on how to safely witness and protect (here’s a primer for SALUTE), as well as emailing and calling bank officials to protest.

Another group of JHI stalwarts goes around to local businesses to do Know Your Rights outreach - what to do if ICE shows up, how to create a safe private room, what a judicial warrant looks like. It’s a struggle to manage the language barriers (Bangla! Chinese! Spanish! Nepali! sometimes all in the same block), and convince the owners and employees that we come with kind intentions and free materials. But when we get over those humps, people are so grateful and happy to know that others care. Shoutout to the JHI introverts who participate in these mutual care acts - I’m an extrovert and I’m exhausties after an hour of outreach!

A lighter and lovely action I’ve been trying to do weekly is Visibility Brigade (AKA rush hour resistance), where we prop signs on highway overpasses and dance and cheer to the honking cars below. We choose a different message every week: SAVE MEDICARE (RIP), ICE OUT OF NYC (forever), I’M TARRIFIED (haha), FREE DC (now Portland? Chicago), FEED GAZA (I can’t even), NO KINGS. It’s mostly exhilarating and fun, though we get an occasional finger, or MAGA scream, or (once horrifyingly) a person mimicking reloading a shot gun. But either way, we channel one particularly irrepressibly joyful JHI member who shouts back, “WE LOVE YOU TOO!”

Now that it’s dark so early (thank you, winter + daylight savings), we stand on street corners under lamplight with individual signs. It may seem like a small silly action, but our presence and words counter one of Timothy Snyder’s 20 signs of tyranny, which is when people fall silent. We want our fellow New Yorkers, especially the ones who can’t speak out or put their bodies on the line, to know that they’re not alone.

Which brings me back to Zohran and how important this moment is. For brown, Muslim, socialist, foreign-born, immigrant representation in the largest, most diverse city in America. For anti-Zionism as ethical and winning politics (as we speak, Israel is bombing Palestine and two other countries besides). For working class affordability as the linchpin of a political platform. And most of all, for me: Zohran’s smiling Ted Lasso positivity.

As the late great poet Andrea Gibson once said, “Everyone knows what you’re against. Show them what you’re for.” Zohran is for us, and moreover, his effervescence raises my spirit. His confidence feeds my courage. I know no one person will save us. We are going to have to do that, you and I, one mutual care act at a time. As Zohran said on Tuesday night, “New York, this power, it’s yours. This city belongs to you.”