Issue #5 | Good Muslim, bad Muslim: Performing belonging in the Western gaze

Just under a month ago, on the 24th of June, self-described democratic socialist Zohran Kwame Mamdani (33) won New York City’s Democratic mayoral primary over ex-Governor and veteran politician Andrew Cuomo (67) via ranked-choice voting*, where Mamdani secured 56% to Cuomo’s 44% after the reallocation of votes.

As a 33-year-old lawmaker with little recognition in the eyes of the public, Mamdani’s victory was a long-shot and, therefore, a big surprise to all. Some attribute his success to his social media strategy. Angela Yang writes:

Thousands expressed enthusiasm for his candidacy in comments on his dozens of social media videos, which experts say pitched his platform and personality to voters so convincingly that he outpaced former New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo in polls before beating him in first-choice votes in the ranked-choice primary… But along with policy, Mamdani also added personal flair to his online campaigning.

As expected, the primarily digital nature of the campaign generated a lot of discourse online, with many expressing praise and others offering searing critiques, with regard to both his policies and his identity as a Uganda-born Muslim of Indian descent. Upon his victory, far-right Republican congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene (MTG) took to Twitter to post an altered version of the Statue of Liberty, where the statue has been covered in a black niqab/abaya (a type of garment worn by some Muslim women that covers the body and sometimes the face).

Undeniably, MTG weaponsises a politically charged and Islamophobic visual to stoke outrage by implying that Mamdani’s election somehow threatens American values or symbolizes a takeover of Western symbols like liberty or democracy. Despite its contribution to delegitimising Muslim political actors and stir populist, anti-immigrant, or anti-diversity sentiments, what struck me perhaps even more was the sheer volume of responses that looked something like this:

In the photo, Mamdani is dressed in traditional South Asian attire and, holding a modest bouquet, stands behind his wife, who sits confidently in a white lace dress and black boots. With her hair uncovered and gaze direct, the image resists easy categorisation. It doesn’t look like a wedding portrait is “supposed” to — especially not a Muslim one.

The post itself uses subtle language to suggest the common liberal idea of “Chill Muslims” versus “Scary Muslims.” Media critic Sana Saeed says that this framing creates a harmful divide where some Muslims are celebrated as modern, relatable, and aligned with Western values. Others are treated as suspect — too religious, too traditional, too different. This binary is more than just a social perception. It’s been used to justify real violence: surveillance, discrimination, and even military aggression against Muslim communities, both at home and abroad, all in the name of preserving Western security and values.

The dissemination of this rhetoric surrounding Zohran Mamdani is pretty ironic, considering that his own father, Mahmood Mamdani, is a renowned academic and author that coined the term “Good Muslim, Bad Muslim” to describe this very phenomenon. Mamdani uses the word ‘quarantine’ to refer to the political and media practice after September 11 of categorising Muslims into "good Muslims" and "bad Muslims." This division effectively isolates Islam as a political category, and implies that Islam itself has to be contained or ‘quarantined’ to separate the "good" from the "bad" Muslims, with the latter associated with terrorism. This reframed terrorism not as a political issue, but as a problem internal to Muslim communities: a battle of values instead of a result of historical and geopolitical conflict.

Culture Talk

This framing relies heavily on what Mamdani calls “culture talk” — which is the habit of explaining political violence or unrest through essentialist ideas about culture. In this view, Muslim societies are cast as unchanging and inherently violent. Religious identity becomes a fixed political category, culture becomes static and timeless, and the complexities of historical and political contexts flatten. Mamdani criticises this approach for reducing political struggle to religious identity and masking the role of colonialism, militarism, and foreign intervention in shaping the very movements we now call "terrorist."

The Good Muslim/Bad Muslim Dichotomy

Mamdani points out that political leaders and media emphasise distinguishing “good Muslims” from “bad Muslims”, framing the issue as a civil war within Islam rather than a conflict between terrorists and civilians. He also challenges the dichotomising of Islam alone, suggesting that if such a division exists within Islam, there must also be a similar division within the West (good Westerners and bad Westerners). 

The good/bad Muslim narrative also lets the West off the hook. Mamdani challenges the cultural essentialism that reduces terrorism to a product of Islamic civilization alone, instead highlighting the role of historical encounters and political conditions in shaping Islamist movements and terrorism. He emphasizes that terrorism is a modern political construction rather than a leftover from premodern culture or an inherent trait of any religion or culture. Mamdani also draws a powerful comparison between the aftermath of World War II and the post-9/11 era. After WWII, there was at least some effort — however flawed — to confront the structural causes of violence, including the creation of institutions like the UN. But in the post-Cold War world, and especially after 9/11, that accountability vanished. The United States refused to take responsibility for the consequences of its own Cold War interventions — like funding and arming militant Islamist groups (for example: Operation Cyclone, which aimed to arm and finance the Afghan mujahideen as a strategy to counter Soviet influence during the Cold Way). Instead, it doubled down on military solutions and cultural blame, painting terrorism as something born out of “bad cultures” instead of bad policies. 

But, some critics counter Mamdani’s argument by saying that terrorism can’t be explained by political context alone. They highlight that religious ideology and cultural contexts also play a role in motivating terrorist groups, and that ignoring these factors risks underestimating the power of extremist narratives in mobilising individuals and groups. Other factors, like identity, ideology, psychological motivations, and social dynamics also contribute to the multifaceted phenomenon that is “terrorism.”

Ways Forward

To move forward, Mamdani argues that both Western and Muslim-majority societies must develop a deeper sense of historical consciousness. This would involve looking honestly at how colonialism, foreign interference, and authoritarian governance — often backed by global powers — have shaped political violence today. It also requires rethinking the nation-state itself, especially models that tie citizenship to religion or ethnicity. He argues that only by building inclusive political systems — ones that don’t rely on cultural purity or narrow identity — can we begin to imagine real democracy and long-term peace.

Seen this way, the photo of Mamdani and his wife becomes more than just a personal snapshot. It brings into sharp focus the expectations placed on Muslim public figures to conform. The image doesn’t neatly align with the usual markers of “good Muslim” respectability, nor does it fulfill the stereotype of the threatening “other.” Instead, it unsettles the binary itself. That’s what makes the photo powerful: not because it rejects norms, but because it reveals how deeply the good Muslim/bad Muslim lens continues to shape public perception. 

Mamdani, M. (2002). Good Muslim, Bad Muslim: A Political Perspective on Culture and Terrorism. American Anthropologist, 104(3), 766–775. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3567254

*Ranked-choice voting (RCV) is a voting system, where voters rank candidates in order of preference rather than choosing just one. Initially, first-choice votes are counted, and if no candidate receives a majority (over 50%), the candidate with the fewest first-choice votes is eliminated. The votes for the eliminated candidate are then reallocated to the next preferred candidate listed on each voter’s ballot. This process repeats, eliminating the lowest-ranked candidates and reallocating their votes until a candidate crosses the 50% threshold.