We Earned This Light
On Zohran Mamdani, belonging, and the long labor of believing in one another.
I love New York City. I love it in ways words can barely hold. I have cried here, bled here, laughed and struggled and somehow made a life here. This city raised me and remade me. Yet most days I do not recognize it. It is not the city I grew up with. It is a city gasping for air, surviving on memory alone.
And tonight, I keep thinking about how long it has been since the city I love truly exhaled.
How many nights we have walked beneath the weight of rent overdue, of billboards preaching things we can’t afford, of trains that arrive like broken promises. And then, in a moment that feels both impossible and inevitable, Zohran Mamdani stands on a stage as the Mayor of New York City.
Like our new mayor, I live in Queens. I have lived here almost twenty years, moving through Jackson Heights and Astoria, Long Island City and Jamaica, collecting pieces of the borough like memories. So even as I write this, I can hear clearly from my home as cheering and fireworks fill the streets within minutes, and I understand this isn’t celebration alone. It is realization. It is Queens recognizing itself.
It is New York City remembering oxygen.
I keep replaying the results being announced, not because I doubt it happened, but because I want to feel it again. The sound of people who believed in something finally hearing themselves reflected in victory. The sound of a people who dared to imagine that politics could be an act of care.
When I say we earned this, I do not mean it lightly. I mean every community meeting that ended with “we’ll try again next week.” I mean every volunteer who handed out flyers in the rain, every organizer who skipped dinner to knock one more door, every neighbor who argued that hope is not naive. I mean the people who flooded social media with Zohran content, the friends who texted their group chats to make sure everyone voted. We have been maintaining belief in this city for generations. And tonight, belief gave birth to something real.
Zohran Mamdani is not a miracle worker. He is a mirror. He is a reflection of what happens when the people decide they will no longer be ignored.
I do not expect Zohran to be perfect. None of us should. Perfection is not the point of politics. Conviction is. What matters is that he believes the government should serve the people, that public service should mean something again.
We have been governed for too long by people who mistake cruelty for strength and greed for strategy. So when someone comes along who actually believes we deserve better, that belief itself becomes an act of resistance.
He will not fix everything. No singular person can. But when someone fights for the people instead of against them, it reminds us that change is not a myth. It is a muscle. And tonight, New York remembered how to flex it.
From polling at one percent just months ago to holding one of the most revered offices in the world, that is not his story alone. That is a collective resurrection.
We did that.
We, the tenants and teachers, the nurses and nannies, the students who skipped study groups to canvas, the elders who told us not to give up, the people who speak in many tongues but share one demand: dignity. We built a coalition out of every accent in New York, out of every corner that has been redlined, underfunded, and over-policed.
So we should bask in this. Let the joy be loud. Let it echo through bodegas and brownstones, across bridges and boroughs. Let it remind us that history can change direction when ordinary people decide to steer.
But the day after that, the work continues. Because this victory does not end injustice, it only proves that injustice can be challenged. The collective that lifted him must now lift each other. We cannot afford to retreat into celebration alone. And Mamdani cannot do this alone. No mayor can. The system was built to exhaust dreamers. It is our job, those of us who dared to dream with him, to replenish that dream daily. Through organizing. Through accountability. Through grace. Through insisting that the city we imagine is not a fantasy but a blueprint.
This is the moment to decide what kind of citizens we will be in the face of our own progress. Will we watch from the sidelines, or will we keep our hands on the wheel of change we helped set in motion?
Because if New York can elect a socialist, Muslim, immigrant son as its mayor, then no city, no country, no people are beyond redemption. The beacon is lit, not in City Hall, but in the hearts of everyone who refused to believe this was impossible.
So today, let us rest in what we have done. Let us breathe it in. But tomorrow, let us remember that this city, this country, this future belong to us only as long as we keep showing up for one another.
We earned this light. Now let us make sure it shines far enough to guide the rest of America home.
Addendum
In my heart of hearts, I know Zohran meeting Stokely was the real campaign turning point. The debates were cute, but the dog sealed it.
As I announced recently, I’ll be personally donating $10,000 to help families who lost their SNAP benefits. Since letting people know, we’ve received over 250 asks for support ($37,500 needed to support all families), and our community has come together to raise another $8,200. This Friday, we’ll be sending $150 directly to families in need through Cash App, PayPal, and Zelle. If you can spare $5, please consider donating to help us offer more families a little hope and relief.
Beautifully said as always. I married into a family of Italian immigrants. That says it all. My husband manages buildings in the Bronx. He fears that his business will go out of business. I’m going to have faith that things will simply move towards fairness and equality all around. I’m prepared to have less so others can have more.
SO FREAKING HAPPY FOR YOU ALL!!!!!!!!