Hiiraan Online

Tuesday July 15, 2025



State Sen. Omar Fateh Credit: MinnPost file photo by Ibrahim Hirsi

Mogadishu (HOL) —  As Somali-American state senator Omar Fateh campaigns to become Minneapolis’s next mayor, a tide of Islamophobic and racial attacks has been unleashed by far-right voices aiming to question his loyalty, background, and legitimacy. Yet, rather than diminishing him, the attacks have sharpened attention on what Fateh represents: a new generation of Muslim-American politicians, progressive in policy, rooted in community, and unafraid to speak to the plural realities of diaspora life.

The comparisons between Fateh and Zohran Mamdani—the 33-year-old Muslim democratic socialist who recently shocked the political establishment in New York by defeating former Governor Andrew Cuomo in the city’s Democratic mayoral primary—have been seized upon by right-wing pundits as proof of an imagined Islamist conspiracy. But for many in Minneapolis’s multiracial neighbourhoods, that comparison carries an entirely different meaning: possibility.

The attacks have come in the form of viral disinformation, doctored images, and accusations of dual loyalty. Much of the online vitriol centers on a clip from Fateh’s 2020 campaign where he described Somalia as “home”—a sentiment familiar to Mamdani's campaign and countless children of immigrants. Yet to his detractors, this simple word has become the basis for a coordinated attempt to cast him as un-American.

Both men are the sons of immigrants—Fateh born in Washington, D.C. to Somali parents; Mamdani born in Kampala to Indian and Ugandan heritage. Both are Muslim, in their thirties, and politically insurgent in style and substance. Their grassroots appeal cuts across working-class communities, where the politics of survival—housing, transit, healthcare—matter more than smear campaigns dressed in fear.

Earlier this week, Turning Point USA founder Charlie Kirk accused Muslims like Fateh and Mamdani of plotting to “take over” the government, posting on X that, “The attempted Islamic takeover of America is made possible thanks to mass migration.” The remarks were laced with familiar dog-whistles: anti-immigrant resentment, Islamophobic panic, and racialized nostalgia for a vanished, whiter America.

In response, Fateh refused to retreat. “Minneapolis is a beautifully diverse city that stands firm in our progressive values,” he wrote. “The hate I’ve seen today—and most days—is not who we will ever be.”

Jaylani Hussein, executive director of the Minnesota chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR-MN), condemned the attacks as “factually wrong and dangerously inflammatory.” He warned that these tactics echo the same narratives used to vilify Somali-American congresswoman Ilhan Omar and others who carry multiple identities with pride. “This kind of anti-Muslim fearmongering puts lives at risk,” he said.

Fateh’s candidacy arrives at a moment of reckoning for Minneapolis. A city shaped by the 2020 murder of George Floyd, rocked by the uprising that followed, and still grappling with the unfinished work of police reform, housing justice, and racial healing. His main opponent, Mayor Jacob Frey, has been both praised for his crisis management and criticized for being too aligned with corporate developers and law enforcement interests.

The Mamdani parallel goes beyond identity. Like Fateh, Mamdani faced dismissals—called unelectable, too radical, too young. Mamdani’s campaign in New York centred on bread-and-butter issues—rent control, food prices, transit access—and won him broad support across boroughs. His team registered tens of thousands of first-time voters, especially among the 18–29 demographic, and built an on-the-ground army of 50,000 volunteers. His “city-owned grocery store” proposal went viral for its boldness. His alliance with other candidates under the “Don’t Rank Cuomo” banner became a strategic masterstroke.

Mamdani’s shock victory over Cuomo, a national political heavyweight with deep-pocketed donors and establishment backing, was not a fluke. It was the result of smart organizing and a campaign style that favoured sidewalk conversations over flashy donor dinners. While Cuomo remained aloof, Mamdani took his message to delis, subway stops, and halal carts.


Zohran Mamdani during a watch party for his primary election, which includes his bid to become the Democratic candidate for New York City mayor in the November 2025 election, June 25, 2025 [David 'Dee' Delgado/Reuters]

Since winning the primary, Mamdani has continued to collect endorsements, from local unions to national figures. Meanwhile, a panicked opposition effort has emerged—funded by billionaires, promoted by conservative radio hosts, and spearheaded by an unlikely alliance of Cuomo, Mayor Eric Adams, and Curtis Sliwa. But that alliance is fracturing. Behind the scenes, donors are scrambling. Political insiders now admit that Mamdani is the frontrunner in a chaotic general election.

Now, similar energy appears to be building in Minneapolis, where Fateh is campaigning to replace two-term Mayor Jacob Frey in the city’s November ranked-choice election.  He has reportedly been in informal talks with fellow progressive challengers like Rev. DeWayne Davis and tech entrepreneur Jazz Hampton, strategizing around ranked-choice voting to unseat Frey from City Hall.

Fateh's campaign has drawn support from young voters, labour organizers, East African small-business owners, and residents weary of the city’s rising rents and stagnant wages. Fateh has been a longtime advocate of rent stabilization and transit equity—stances he held before they became slogans. He’s frequented Somali coffee shops, local youth centers, and community mosques not just as photo ops, but as part of his daily rhythm. He speaks the language of his constituents, literally and figuratively.

Minneapolis City Council member Jason Chavez, a Frey critic, drew a direct line from New York to Minnesota. “People discounted Zohran because he was young, Muslim, progressive, ‘unelectable,’ and a socialist,” Chavez wrote on X. “He proved the world wrong.”

So too, perhaps, will Omar Fateh.

Political analysts note that many young voters, especially in immigrant-heavy cities like Minneapolis, are not disengaged—they are disillusioned with traditional party structures. In a political landscape increasingly hostile to pluralism, these candidacies become acts of belonging. A declaration that Muslim-Americans, Black immigrants, and working-class diasporas are not marginal to urban life but central to its renewal.

Still, challenges remain. Just as Mamdani faces a crowded general election field with multiple opponents who refuse to step aside, Fateh must contend with Frey’s incumbency advantage and the fragmented opposition in Minneapolis’ ranked-choice system. 

With the mayoral election set for November 4, the stakes are clear. Will Minneapolis follow New York’s example and embrace a new kind of leadership—grounded in community, shaped by diaspora, and unapologetically progressive?

If so, the backlash may only be the beginning of something bigger.