In the City That Never Sleeps, a Community Finally Woke Up

In the first quarter of 2009, as part of my coursework as a Fulbright scholar at New York University, I had to interview the Yellow Cab Drivers Union leader in New York City to understand their everyday challenges. Coming from a developing country, I initially assumed I might not have much in common with them. But as I listened to their stories, I was struck by their resilience and quiet dignity amid relentless struggle. Most of the cab drivers in the city revealed a complex mix of economic hardship, migration pressures and the pursuit of respect in an unforgiving metropolis.

The union leader, a white man from a working-class background, met me in person on Lexington Avenue in Manhattan. He spoke at length about the many hardships faced by cab drivers, but one detail stayed with me: the surge in renal problems among drivers forced to hold back for hours because of the lack of public restrooms. Coming from India and having witnessed the sanitation challenges in Asian cities like Delhi, I found this remark deeply ironic. Here was one of the wealthiest cities in the world, yet it could not provide something as basic as public urinals. There were, of course, other issues the drivers raised, including the crushing burden of the medallion system and the exploitation it enabled.

More than a decade later, while reading The New York Times, I came across a story about a young assemblyman from Queens borough who had taken up the concerns of New York’s cab drivers. This had finally addressed some of the grievances I had first heard back in 2010. The legislator was thirty-four-year-old Zohran Mamdani, who is set to become New York City’s first mayor of South Asian heritage. His last name immediately brought back memories of a winter in 2010. True to New York’s spirit – a city where chance encounters often weave unexpected connections – I had once met filmmaker Mira Nair and her academic husband, Professor Mahmood Mamdani, outside a Ugandan restaurant on a cold evening near Times Square. I recognised her instantly, but it was her husband with whom I first struck up a conversation – a small, serendipitous reminder of how effortlessly worlds overlap in New York. I had read his book Good Muslim, Bad Muslim, and as I introduced myself, our brief exchange carried a quiet resonance that has stayed with me.

Also read: Why Did India Miss the Zohran Mamdani Story?

Ironically, at a time when the United States's political landscape is deeply polarised and many of the nation’s long-held assumptions are being questioned, Zohran’s rise and his election as New York’s next mayor represent something that would have been unimaginable back in 2008. During that period, as part of my coursework and through family gatherings, I had spent considerable time among Muslim immigrants – sitting in mosques during mourning gatherings, sharing meals and listening to conversations that revealed both the anxieties and aspirations of a community struggling to find its footing in a foreign land.

Beneath those exchanges ran a quiet undercurrent of fear – of being misunderstood, surveilled or never fully belonging.

And yet, years later, the same city is all set to elect a South Asian origin man who openly identifies as Muslim, born to a Gujarati Muslim father and a Punjabi Hindu Khatri mother, to public office. It reflects the remarkable inclusiveness and contradictions of New York City – a place where such transformations can quietly take root. Zohran’s victory is significant not only for what it symbolises but also for what it redefines. With his election, he has brought the South Asian community, as well as the wider Muslim community, to the political centre stage of New York City.

One of the fascinating aspects of New York’s social fabric is how each community has carved out its own space. ‘Chicken over rice’, my go-to meal during my years in the city, owes its ubiquity to the Egyptian diaspora that dominates the halal food scene. Jackson Heights, by contrast, reflects the strong presence of Bangladeshi immigrants, while other pockets across the city are shaped by Pakistani and broader South Asian influences, particularly in the Coney Island area. The Yemeni community has a visible presence in Brooklyn’s Bay Ridge, while the African American Muslim community is rooted in the Flatbush neighbourhoods of Brooklyn. Zohran’s ability to bring together the city’s diverse Muslim communities has been central to his rise.

While success stories of South Asians in finance and technology on the East Coast – living in the affluent enclaves of nearby Connecticut State or the condominiums of Manhattan – are now familiar, it was rare to see someone from the community rise from within the city’s grassroots political space. Many of these South Asian immigrants may have achieved considerable financial success, yet for the most part, they have lived and died in this country without being noticed in its political or social life, or even contributing to the civic fabric of the cities they call home. At best, their engagement was limited to donations towards worthy causes at universities or cultural institutions.

As for the much-celebrated success of the Indian diaspora in the technology sector, it often comes with an unspoken critique prevailing in some sections – that their rise is not necessarily rooted in assertiveness or originality, but in a perceived willingness to be deferential and compliant within hierarchical corporate structures.

A central element of Zohran’s success lies in his unapologetic assertion that Muslims – who make up nearly 15 per cent of New York City’s population and number around one million – will no longer shy away from embracing their identity. In a six-minute viral video, released in response to a slanderous campaign by his opponents laced with dog-whistle references to 9/11, he galvanised the city’s Muslims with a simple but resonant message: it is time to be unashamed of who we are. This assertion carries deep historical weight, emerging from an atmosphere of fear that has long gripped Muslim immigrants for the last twenty-four years. In the post-9/11 phase, it was primarily Muslims of New York and other immigrant communities who bore the brunt of its aftermath and hate crimes.

Also read: What Zohran Mamdani Teaches the Indian Political Discourse

Having lived in New York and shared spaces with varied members of the community in that phase, I vividly remember the trauma that followed 9/11. The period was marked by suspicion, fears of crackdowns and deportations of those who had overstayed their visas. The much-reported New York Police Department’s surveillance of mosques, community centres and even student groups created a climate of mistrust that lingered for years.

New York City holds particular significance for the Muslim American community, not only because of its size but also because of the resilience it has shown in reclaiming its place within the city’s civic fabric. As mentioned earlier, the years following 9/11 were a test of endurance – a period when the community found itself under siege. Yet amid that adversity, I witnessed the emergence of a new generation of Muslim leaders who organised against surveillance and fought to assert their civil rights.

Zohran’s victory stands on the shoulders of those quiet struggles and the countless sacrifices of individuals who refused to be silenced. During Ramzan, I still recall speaking with a young imam at New York University who engaged fellow students in open, thoughtful dialogue on issues of identity – an act that, in those years, was itself a quiet form of courage.

Another element of his success is how it will galvanise activism among younger generations of the South Asian diaspora. I remember young South Asian professionals in NYC in the late 2000s coming together to start non-profits, discussing identity and representation with a sense of restless optimism. At the time, there seemed to be a void – with no clear youth icons and a scattered sense of ‘South Asian-ness’. While the idea of a unified South Asia may not have gained traction in the subcontinent, in New York these bonds quietly flourished. In a city that draws people from every corner of the world, the desi identity has served as a bridge, bringing together Indians, Pakistanis and Bangladeshis. The younger generation, born in the United States and unburdened by the inherited biases of their parents, often goes the extra mile to help one another. I can recall countless occasions during my eleven years in the city when I was the beneficiary of such solidarity.

Zohran’s victory also serves as a moment of reflection for the older diaspora. It is a reminder of how far the community has come – from the days of invisibility and marginalisation to a place at the table. Yes, there is a rise in right-wing sentiment in the United States, but history rarely moves in a straight line. There will be course corrections. What remains constant, however, is that New York – a city of contradictions and constant reinvention – has now elected its first mayor of Indian origin.

Yet his timing could not have been more opportune – and therein also lie the challenges. Mirroring the diversity of New York’s Muslim population is its Jewish community, which spans all boroughs but is most heavily concentrated in Brooklyn. The community itself is far from monolithic, encompassing Orthodox groups clustered in Brooklyn, as well as Modern Orthodox Jews who are more integrated into secular life, alongside Conservative, Reform, Nondenominational and secular Jews.

At this moment, a significant segment of the Jewish vote appears to be leaning toward Mamdani. While the community remains firmly supportive of Israel as a nation, there is also a growing revulsion toward the current Israeli government, with much of the frustration directed personally at Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu over his actions in Gaza. The real test for Mamdani will be to sustain this fragile coalition and hold together a constituency united.

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But perhaps the greater New York story lies in its remarkable ability to give everyone a certain distance from their or their family’s place of origin as they toil through their daily struggles in small apartments, navigating the city’s relentless pace. It is within this shared space – where people of vastly different backgrounds must coexist and collaborate – that a more compassionate and inclusive perspective often takes root. Mamdani’s masterful and hopeful campaign, marked by his call for Muslims and other immigrant communities to step out of the shadows and claim their rightful place in the public sphere, reminds us that politics need not be driven solely by wealth, influence or endorsements. At its best, it can still be animated by authenticity, courage and a connection to the lived realities of ordinary people – transforming personal conviction into a collective vote for hope and unity.

As I think back to that conversation with the cab drivers’ union leader on Lexington Avenue all those years ago, I am reminded of how New York’s struggles often mirror its strengths. The same city that once denied its workers something as basic as public restrooms has now produced a leader who listens to their grievances and speaks to their dignity. From those quiet stories of endurance behind the wheel to Zohran Mamdani’s unapologetic assertion of identity and justice, New York’s journey – and that of its South Asian and Muslim communities – has come full circle. The city remains imperfect, restless and endlessly demanding, yet it continues to reaffirm one truth: in the place that never sleeps, voices once confined to the margins can still awaken hope at the centre.

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