On November 4, 2025, New York City made history.
For the first time, the city that once symbolized fear and division after 9/11 chose a Muslim man of colour — Zohran Mamdani — as its next mayor.
It was more than a local election; it was a moment that travelled far beyond the city’s borders.

For many around the world, New York’s mayoral races usually pass quietly. But this one felt different. For millions of Muslims and immigrants, Mamdani’s victory wasn’t just political — it was personal. It was a turning point in a story that began more than two decades ago, when the 2001 attacks transformed what it meant to be visibly Muslim in the West.

From Kampala to Queens

Zohran Mamdani’s life is as global as the city he now leads.
He was born in Kampala, Uganda, to a family deeply engaged in academia and the arts — his father, Mahmood Mamdani, is a professor at Columbia University, and his mother, Mira Nair, is an award-winning filmmaker. The family lived in South Africa before settling in the United States, where Zohran grew up between worlds — African, Indian, Muslim, and American.

Before becoming mayor-elect, Mamdani represented Queens’ 36th District in the New York State Assembly, where he built a reputation as a progressive voice for housing justice, immigrant rights, and accessible public transit. His campaign for mayor was powered not by corporate donors, but by volunteers, small donations, and tireless outreach in the neighborhoods most politicians forget.

He prayed in mosques, spoke in churches, and walked through the crowded bodegas and delis that make up New York’s immigrant heartbeat.
That human connection — not party politics — won him the city.

A Symbol Beyond Politics

Since 2001, Muslims across America have faced suspicion, profiling, and fear. Many grew up hiding their identity, learning to be cautious about their names, their clothes, their beliefs. In that climate, the sight of a Muslim mayor-elect in New York — the very city that bore the scars of 9/11 — carries an extraordinary symbolism.

For the children of immigrants, Mamdani’s win says: you belong here.
For the Muslim world, it says: the narrative can change.

His victory has inspired celebration across the global South — in Uganda, South Africa, India, and throughout Muslim communities in the diaspora. Online, messages of pride and disbelief poured in from Karachi to Cape Town, from London to Lagos.

The Challenge Ahead

Yet Mamdani’s journey is only beginning.
Former president Donald Trump, now back in office, has clashed with several Democratic state and city leaders, and tensions are expected to rise over funding, immigration policy, and sanctuary-city protections. While no direct threats have been made toward Mamdani personally, the political standoff between Washington and New York is inevitable.

Even so, his election marks something irreversible — a shift in what’s possible.
A Muslim name will soon sit behind the mayor’s desk in City Hall, and for the first time, that name will not be whispered, but celebrated.

A New Chapter for a New York Story

Maybe Zohran Mamdani won’t change everything overnight.
But he’s already changed something deeper — the way people see themselves in a country that too often tells them they don’t belong.

From Kampala to Queens, from the shadows of 9/11 to the lights of City Hall, his journey is not just a political one.

It’s the story of an identity reclaimed — and a reminder that history, like people, can heal.

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So recently, we’ve been seeing harsh sanctions being slapped on the face of Iran for “trying to” violate international law. The economy collapsed, people suffered, and the state was forced to rethink its plans in the Middle East. I’m not even going to touch on the assassinations carried out by the US or Israel — that’s a whole other chapter. Here I want to talk about what the UN has been doing, or rather, not doing.

The world has this big playbook for sanctions. Countries violate human rights, annex land, commit massacres, invade, occupy — there’s supposed to be a system that reacts. Iraq felt it. Yugoslavia felt it. Iran is still feeling it. North Korea lives under it every day. Sanctions don’t just hit governments; they crush economies, destroy people’s lives, and sometimes even put leaders on the dock with arrest warrants.

Now, let’s be real. Every single person on this planet knows what’s happening in Gaza. We’ve seen the killings, the massacres, the children buried under rubble. And yet — silence. The system, this great machine that is so quick to punish some states, has been failing us when it comes to Israel. And we have to ask: why? What more evidence is needed? How many dead bodies, how many videos, how many legal reports does it take before the rules apply equally?

Yes, we’ve seen a couple of arrest warrants — targeting two Israeli ministers. But let’s be honest: those were symbolic. These guys weren’t traveling to Europe anyway, and the warrants avoided the real charges. Because if anyone dared to use the proper legal language, then it wouldn’t stop with two ministers. It would start with Netanyahu himself. And it wouldn’t end until his entire cabinet — every single one of them who has openly called to starve, flatten, nuke, or depopulate Gaza — was in the dock for incitement to genocide.

So here’s the real question: why not? Why does Israel escape the kind of global sanctions that crushed other nations? The UN knows what’s happening. The ICJ knows. The laws exist, the doctrines exist, the obligations — erga omnes, meaning all states are supposed to uphold them — are written in black and white. And yet the Security Council, the body that should enforce them, sits frozen. Why? Because one country, the US, keeps using its veto to protect Israel. And the rest of the world just shrugs.

It’s almost comical, if it weren’t so tragic. Imagine a football match where one player keeps breaking the rules — fouling, cheating, even injuring others — and the referee just looks away. Not because he doesn’t see it, but because one of the player’s rich sponsors is screaming from the stands: “Don’t you dare touch my guy!” That’s the situation. The rules exist. The violations are obvious. But the enforcement is selective.

And yet, the fight isn’t completely dead. Outside of the broken system, you see sparks. Local governments in Brazil refusing to invest in companies that profit from settlements. Civil society movements like BDS pushing for accountability through boycotts and divestment. Human rights groups writing report after report, academics shouting in every forum they can find. It’s messy, inconsistent, fragile — but it’s there. Small sparks trying to break through the darkness.

And that’s the bigger story. This isn’t just about Israel and Iran. It’s about power, politics, and whether international law actually means anything. Is it law — or is it just politics dressed up in legal language? Because if the rules only apply to the weak and never to the strong, then maybe we should stop pretending we even have “international law.”

There’s frustration, there’s anger, but there’s also hope. Hope that these sparks — local actions, grassroots movements, citizen pressure — might one day catch fire and force the world to confront its double standards. Until then, we’ll keep asking the same question: seriously?

The Syrian army had recently launched a security operation to dismantle and disarm remnants of groups linked to the previous regime, reportedly supported by foreign actors. In response, Israel’s air raids appear to signal a strategic message – not just to Syria’s leadership, but to the wider region.

Analysts suggest that Israel is attempting to destabilize the fragile calm that followed Syria’s recent political transition. The new government, which has moved to assert greater independence from foreign influence, is seen as resisting regional pressure – including Israeli attempts to maintain leverage over Syria’s security and political trajectory.

A statement by Turkey’s Foreign Minister condemned the Israeli strikes, accusing Tel Aviv of deliberately trying to undermine Syria’s path toward peace and reconstruction. “These attacks aim to sabotage the country’s efforts for peace and stability,” he said.

Despite widespread condemnation from several countries, Israel continues to carry out attacks in Syria – with no publicly disclosed justification or evidence of direct provocation from Damascus.

Imagine a crowded street, so packed with people that you can’t even see their feet — just faces, countless and unrecognizable. You look to your right: faces. You look to your left: the same.

What are they all doing?

Some are rushing to work. Some are enjoying the moment. Some are chasing their dreams. But what if this street truly has an end? What if, no matter how long the journey, everyone eventually reaches their destination?

Now, picture that same street stretching far beyond what the eye can see — so long it takes decades to walk. Some reach the end quickly, while others take a lifetime. We can call this street life. But what if the destination is the same for all? What if we’re all just passing through?

It’s not an easy walk. You will face storms. You will feel pain. You will experience joy and sorrow. You may glimpse the sunlight, but before you truly bask in its warmth, before you even have the chance to let it kiss your skin — you reach the end.

And trust me, dear reader, we will all reach the end.

But how do we secure our journey?

With patience. With kindness. By not stepping on others to get ahead, and by not losing ourselves in the race. By looking at every face we pass and understanding — they are here for a reason, just like we are.

Each soul has a purpose, even if it’s unknown. So never underestimate others, and never underestimate yourself.

Because you, too, are here for a reason.

Palestine Ceasefire — How Happy Should We Be?

On January 15th, the U.S. government made a decision, something unexpected happened — a ceasefire Deal in Gaza after 15 months of relentless bombing and destruction. For the first time in what feels like forever, Gazans are sleeping through the night without the sound of explosions or waking up to burning tents. People went out to celebrate, and for a moment, it seemed like happiness was back in Gaza.

But that’s the thing — it seemed happy. Behind every smiling face on the streets is a story of loss. Almost every family has buried someone: a parent, a sibling, a cousin. The cost of this so-called peace? 46,788 lives. That’s not just a number. It’s people, dreams, and futures wiped out.

Why Won’t We Call It What It Is?

When we talk about genocide, we think of Nazi Germany — a dark chapter in history that no one denies. But when it comes to Gaza, the world hesitates to use the same word, even when the International Court of Justice (ICJ) have no doubt. Israel bombs neighborhoods, kills civilians, then leaves, justifying it all as “self-defense.” And the world watches, offering little more than statements of “concern.”

It’s infuriating. How is it so easy for the world to ignore what’s happening? Why is it so hard to call the destruction in Gaza what it is? Genocide isn’t just a word. It’s a recognition of immense suffering and injustice — and denying it feels like another form of violence.

A Pattern of Pain in the Middle East

What’s happening in Gaza isn’t new. Look at Syria, Iraq, Yemen — places where blood has been shed for years. What do they have in common? Most of the people in these countries are (or were) Sunni Muslims. After Western interventions, the leaders left in charge often came from minority groups, creating a power imbalance that led to decades of anger and oppression. These so-called “liberations” didn’t bring freedom — they brought chaos.

It’s like the world decided these lives didn’t matter. They drew up constitutions, redrew borders, and left the Middle East to deal with the fallout. They didn’t bother to learn the languages or understand the culture. They didn’t think about the people who would have to live with their decisions. And now we’re seeing the consequences.

So, Who’s the Terrorist?

It’s a loaded question, but an important one. When entire populations are terrorized, oppressed, and bombed, is it fair to call their resistance terrorism? What do we call the forces that came in, turned their lives upside down, and left them with nothing but pain? These aren’t rhetorical questions — they’re the heart of the problem.

Lessons We Need to Learn

If we want to understand what’s happening in Gaza, we need to look at places like Syria. It’s a story of what happens when the world turns its back, when power is handed to those who abuse it, and when the suffering of millions becomes just another headline. We can’t keep letting this happen.

The ceasefire in Gaza is a moment to breathe, but it’s not a solution. Real peace means justice — holding people accountable for what they’ve done and making sure it doesn’t happen again. It means seeing Gazans as human beings, not just numbers or victims.

So, how happy should we be? The truth is, not much. Because while the bombs have stopped for now, the wounds are still fresh, the pain is still real, and the fight for justice is far from over.