Last week, we had two seismic shake ups in one day. Within a couple of hours, I learnt that Antoinette Lattouf won her case against the ABC (more in the next rant). And then, a Mamdani primary win came through!! This news well and truly snapped me out of my funk. I’ve been a tad (okay, more than a tad) obsessed ever since I found out he’s Mira Nair’s son and a third cultured East African Gujarati disruptor. It feels like I’ve reconnected with the brother I never knew I had.
Given the epic shit show of a circus we’ve witnessed since Trump’s presidency, I never had ‘Pro-Palestinian, Socialist, Muslim-Gujarati immigrant from Uganda taking centre stage in US politics’ on my bingo card. But 2025 has come with a lot of surprises, and I’m welcoming this one with open arms. Ever since Zohran Mamdani’s campaign trail took over New York city, his ability to cut through noise and chaos has made waves across the pond. From his Young Cardamom days to now running for Mayor in New York. I honestly won’t be surprised if Nani by Mr Cardamon makes it to my end of year Spotify wrapped list. But what makes all of this even more exciting is the legacy he carries and what that represents.
One of my favourite facts about Zohran is that he quite literally would not be here if it wasn’t for Mississippi Masala — not that I needed another reason to love this movie. I was 17 when I first watched it, and I still remember the rare feeling of being seen. I found myself represented in between the layered messiness of an interracial love story. Not just a default Black and White interracial pairing we’re so used to seeing, but the complex, often untold stories between people of colour. A relationship between an Indian-Ugandan woman (played by Sarita Choudhury) and a Black American man (happens to be one of the few romantic leads Denzel Washington has played). It centres the story of a Ugandan Indian family forced to flee under Idi Amin’s regime, a close yet distant reality from my own upbringing up in Kenya, and a glimpse into the quiet, hard truths of the East African-Indian diaspora: tensions of being a Brown minority in a Black world, being a third cultured immigrant who never quite belongs, and the unspoken realities of racism, classism and anti-Blackness.
First released in 1991, coincidental the same year that birthed both myself and Zohran Mamdani (the universe truly ATE that year) — Mississippi Masala was way ahead of it’s time. To start off, it was directed by the one and only Mira Nair. Despite her earlier success, she struggled to raise money for the film as the potential funders were concerned about the lack of white characters. But that didn’t deter her from centring the Black, Indigenous and Indian communities across Africa and America. Every line in this movie was layered with nuance. A familiar tale that only those who grew up in houses gossiping over chai and fried mogo drizzled with lemon, chilli and salt, could weave in. That and a fagio, another staple etched into our memories.
Now, having Mira Nair as your mum is pretty legendary on its own, but Zohran really hit the parental jackpot. His dad is Mahmood Mamdani, an Indian-Ugandan, post-colonial scholar and the author of Good Muslim, Bad Muslim. The renowned academic and thinker has lived and worked across the continent, from Uganda to South Africa. He gave Zohran the middle name “Kwame,” paying tribute to former Ghanian president and revolutionary, Kwame Nkurmah — a pan africanist that has no doubt been a bedrock for his intellectual understanding. The scholar has consistently challenged conventional narratives about post-colonial politics. Some of his groundbreaking work, Citizen and Subject, which uses post-apartheid South Africa as a case study, talks about how the continent’s colonial history has contributed to the creation of a ‘Bifurcated State,’ the rural and urban divide we see in many countries.
Both Mira Nair and Mahmood Mamdani have broken the ‘model minority’ boxes that many South Asians are pressured to fit in. The union between a Hindu-Punjabi storyteller for social change and a Ugandan Gujarati-Muslim academic scholar has opened up entirely new possibilities. A legacy that Zohran didn’t just inherit, he’s living it, the only kind of nepotism anyone should tolerate. If time travel were real and getting adopted by the Nair-Mamdani clan was off the table, I’d happily settle for being a fly on the wall while they raised him. I’d imagine the tea brewing on the stovetop with everyone gathered on a wooden table for an afternoon snack of fresh mandazi na sambusa. I’d soak in the exchange of critical ideas, stories that challenged cultural norms while empathetically encouraging each other to push boundaries. A refreshing contrast to the environments many of us grew up in — the cliché immigrant parents who view success only through the lens of doctor, lawyer or engineer.
Learning about Zohran’s story resonated with my own personal experience of existing in the in-between. For him, the complexity runs deeper. Born in Uganda, raised across Kampala, post-apartheid South Africa, and now living in New York. He is also Indian. Specifically, Gujarati Muslim, a diaspora that’s often vilified and erased from political conversations altogether.
Zohran once framed it as, “In Uganda I was Indian, in India I was Muslim and in New York I was everything but a New Yorker.”
Instead of shrinking to fit in, he embraces this complex, multidimensional identity. In many ways, he embodies New York — a city that has been built by people who hold multiple worlds within them. No wonder he shows up the way he does, leading a campaign built on community, empathy and radical ideas, transcending cultural barriers and inviting us to imagine what IS possible
The results from the success of the campaign speak for themselves, he has mobilised over 40,000 volunteers, raised millions and built the kind of support that billionaires can’t buy off — all while centring the call for a Free Palestinian. Zohran Mamdani’s Democratic primary win for the mayoral campaign is the first time in a very long time that I’ve genuinely felt hopeful. And, I’m not even a New Yorker. While these policies won’t be affecting me, or his global fan base, personally. The energy and momentum off the back of this campaign is a reminder of what’s possible when we show up authentically. It is a glimpse of what real representation looks. And proof that we are not outnumbered, we are out organised.
If elected, Zohran would be the first South Asian, Muslim, Pro-Palestinian, ex-rapper, African born, rizzed up (…list goes on with this one) mayor. He would also be the first to carry the intellectual legacy of post-colonial Africa into the heart of America. This rare win for America feels like an even rarer win for the African and South Asian diaspora. It is a breath of fresh of air from the suffocating environments we find ourselves in daily. From our workplaces, to sometimes, even our own communities. For far too long, we’ve been told to keep our heads down, work twice as hard, stay silent and mould ourselves into versions of success that feel safe and are palatable to whiteness. Clinging to the model minority myth, as if it is the only path for our survival. In the process, we’ve turned that oppression inward. We continue to feed casteism, capitalism, Islamophobia and anti-Blackness.
But, we can choose a different story, too. In a world that tells us to shrink to fit in, Zohran reminds us of the power we hold to expand its entire worldview — from speaking in our mother tongues, correcting the pronunciation of our names, unapologetically eating rice with our hands, standing up for our neighbours and calling out genocide. There is proof that we don’t have to buy into respectability politics to win. And when there’s more of us standing in the spotlight, we all get to breathe a little easier. Plus, who wouldn’t want a side of extra spice and flavour at the dinner table?
If you liked this read, please share it with an aunty, bhai or rafiki. Until next time.
Republished from Not Your Token Hire.
