When Zohran Mamdani became the youngest and first Indian-origin, Muslim, and South Asian mayor of New York, America’s political class faced a challenge far more basic than his socialist housing agenda — saying his name correctly.For months, anchors, opponents, and even allies stumbled over it. Zor-han Mandami. Zohr-anne Madani. One Republican rival reportedly gave up halfway through a live debate and settled on “the assemblyman.”To which Mamdani, smiling that patient immigrant smile known to every brown kid who’s ever had their name mangled since kindergarten, replied: “It’s pretty phonetic, honestly.”Say it with me: ZOH-rahn MAM-dah-nee.Not “Zohr-ANNE.” Not “Mandani.” Not “Madami.” Just ZOH-rahn — rhymes with go-run — and MAM-dah-nee, with both consonants pronounced cleanly.Simple, yet somehow revolutionary.
A Name Becomes a Statement
Names are supposed to be introductions, not battlegrounds. But in America’s political theatre, the mispronunciation of “Mamdani” became a quiet test of intent.Andrew Cuomo, the former governor turned opponent, repeatedly got it wrong during debates — so often that Mamdani finally called him out on live television.“Those who go out of their way to mispronounce it — that’s not a mistake, that’s a message,” Mamdani later said.It was a lesson in coded prejudice: a reminder that saying someone’s name wrong, over and over, can sound suspiciously like refusing to say who they are.Linguists told The New York Times that English just doesn’t handle “md” clusters well. There are hundreds of words with “nd,” but almost none with “md.” So the mouth betrays the politics: the “m” melts into an “n,” and suddenly Mamdani becomes “Mandani.”Add to that the soft “ahn” in “Zohran” — which the American tongue instinctively hardens into “Anne” — and you get a name that bends under linguistic imperialism as much as social bias.As one professor put it, “Our tongues are just not used to making that specific sequence of sounds.”Maybe. But as another linguist dryly noted, “We all learned to say ‘Daenerys Targaryen.’ We can learn hard names. We just have to practise.”When Cuomo fumbled again, Mamdani’s supporters turned the clip into a TikTok remix. “Say His Name Right” became both a meme and a movement. Even his mother, filmmaker Mira Nair, joined in — signing her emails as Momdani in affectionate protest.For a generation of immigrants, it struck a chord. The politics of pronunciation isn’t about phonetics; it’s about belonging. Every mispronounced syllable carries a history of classrooms where teachers paused before your name, of coffee cups that said Zo, Zohan, Z.Few realise that Zohran means “the first star in the sky.” His mother, Mira Nair, chose it for its quiet symbolism — a name that suggests illumination, direction, and new beginnings. His father, scholar Mahmood Mamdani, added Kwame in honour of Ghana’s independence hero Kwame Nkrumah, a nod to anti-colonial struggle and pan-African solidarity. Together, the name Zohran Kwame Mamdani reads like a map of his heritage: Indian roots, African history, and now, American political awakening. Every time his name is spoken correctly, it becomes a small act of respect — a constellation of identities pronounced in full.For Mamdani, getting his name right is more than courtesy. It’s proof that America can learn, even if slowly, to pronounce what it once struggled to accept.And now that he’s mayor, everyone’s making the effort. Because every time someone says his name right — ZOH-rahn MAM-dah-nee — it doesn’t just sound correct. It sounds like history being pronounced properly for the first time.
