It’s easy to miss: one word out of roughly eight thousand, in the middle of John Lahr’s 2002 New Yorker profile of filmmaker Mira Nair, which is newly relevant now that her son Zohran Mamdani has stunned the nation by becoming the Democratic NYC mayoral nominee. Mamdani, just eleven years old at the time of publication, gets fleeting mention in the feature, but nearly twenty-four years later it’s hard not to see those brief descriptions as telegraphing. One bit in particular is garnering attention, following New Yorker editor Marella Gayla’s pointing it out on Twitter: “Nair’s talkative doe-eyed son, Zohran, who exudes the charm of the well-loved, is known by dozens of coinages, including Z, Zoru, Fadoose, and Nonstop Mamdani,” writes Lahr.
The sentence, originally an example of Nair’s tendency to show affection through nicknames, exists now as a concise, prescient celebration of the man behind the movement. What better way to describe the smiling eyes on campaign posters covering the city than “doe-eyed”? Regardless of one’s opinions on his politics, who could possibly deny his charm? “Nonstop Mamdani” is almost too good to be true, a plausible motto for his campaign as a whole. So many gems, so much to grab onto, but I find myself stuck on one: well-loved. Mamdani’s being well-loved was apparent enough to Lahr to deserve mentioning, and it’s even more obvious today in his consistent joy, his confidence, and his loud love for New York and its people.
It’s no wonder Mamdani is both well-loved and well-loving. In that same profile, Lahr describes the young Mamdani accompanying Nair to work. His father, the celebrated academic and political analyst Mahmood Mamdani, dedicated his book Neither Settler nor Native to Zohran, gleaming with pride: "You teach us how to engage the world in difficult times. May you inspire many and blaze a trail!" In a carousel post beginning with the statement, "[Of course] Zohran won, these are his parents," South Asian creative agency and community hub Diet Paratha showcases photos that highlight the couple’s prodigiousness, but also capture brief moments of the visual language of love: See Mahmood staring intently at a gleeful young Zohran, laying across his father’s chest and cheesing for the camera; see Nair grasping and kissing Mahmood’s hand, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.
But it’s more than love as familial attention and affection. Arguably, the premise of Lahr’s 2002 profile—what makes Nair stand out, warranting a profile—is what Lahr describes as her “intoxication with life.” Film, in Nair’s own words, allows her to “embrace life completely.” One might say Mamdani has found the same in politics, especially in that his momentum is driven by the desire to allow suffering and impoverished New Yorkers the chance to do the same. In his post-victory speech in Harlem, Mamdani described his victory—our victory—as the result of New Yorkers’ “hunger to … make this city a living, breathing testament to what is possible.” What is possible, and now plausible, is the lower and working classes’ chance to actually live, to thrive.
There is an empowering argument to be found here, especially in the midst of an alarming cultural regression toward conservative gender roles, about the great advantages of mothering without dismissing—and instead strengthening—one’s own talents, independence, ambition. In other words: to mother without sacrificing one’s self. Beside her apparent adoration of her son, Nair’s life and career display an embodied, influential passion which Mamdani has clearly inherited to his benefit. Lahr describes Nair as “above all a populist—a mass communicator who actually maintains contact with the masses.” The mediums are distinct (though the two have more overlap than one might assume; art is political, politics requires performance) but the result is the same: both mother and son have captivated massive audiences, and those audiences have been moved.
Mamdani ran a campaign focused on social welfare and community—free buses, cheap groceries, frozen rent—but his is also, fundamentally, a politics of love, which is more formidable and less sentimental than those who fear softness and reject empathy as weakness are willing to admit. To acknowledge this is to contend with the overwhelming instinct to read a celebration of love as saccharine, naive—the feeble ramblings of a bleeding heart. We give in to that instinct to our detriment. All manner of experts—psychologists, scientists, sociologists, and politicians—have argued that compassion is the key to solving our most pressing global concerns. Recent research shows more positive impressions of candidates with “highly empathetic messages,” especially among Democrats. In a linguistic study of over 200 million words spoken in Congress sessions dating back to the mid ‘90—as well as a more focused analysis of Trump’s tweets—psychologist Jeremy Frimer discovered a direct correlation between the “civility” shown by a politician and their approval rate. Mamdani's win offers valuable insight into what a majority of the electorate, at least among Democrats in New York City, are seeking, at a time when the Democrats are flailing in their efforts to figure out just that. Kindness is, simply, effective.
Mamdani’s opposition built their attacks around his supposed liabilities, namely his being Muslim, nonwhite, and an advocate for Palestine, but they failed to recognize one of his greatest strengths. Few commentators named it, but some supporters have called out this omission. The day after the “political earthquake” and its flood of news coverage, David Hogg tweeted “There’s one major thing not being mentioned much the by the pundits about [Zohran Mamdani] — he is infectiously, and relentlessly positive in a way I have seen few politicians ever be. Despite everything thrown at him he keeps smiling and loving people- he doesn't look down on them.” Call it kindness, call it civility, call it compassion: they are all part of the same, and they are undoubtedly linked to the work of his parents.
This single word, well-loved, this moment of recognition—it is a testament to the long-lasting effects of how we raise our children, and how we shape the adults they become. An upbringing founded on love and demonstrable support breeds resilience and bravery; it allows and encourages a child’s passion and compassion. There is no Zohran Mamdani—no ecstatic Mamdani sweep—without it.