During the holy month of Ramadan, Muslims around the world fasted from sunrise to sundown as a way of experiencing the same hunger felt as those without food. Muslims gave alms, or zakat, to those most vulnerable, and spent time with loved ones each evening over meals that reminded us what is truly important. This year, what should have been a festive month and a time of deep spirituality and reflection was marred by a resurgent and disgraceful wave of anti-Muslim hate that caused deep pain in our community.
There are too many examples to recount, but some noteworthy assertions include Councilmember Vickie Paladino’s post recommending that Western governments begin the “expulsion of Muslims from western nations. She asked President Trump to develop a legal framework for “denaturalization,” and called to ban Islam. United States congressman Andy Ogles now-famously said that “Muslims don’t belong in American society” and that “pluralism is a lie.” On March 12 Congressman Fine stated unequivocally: “We need more Islamophobia, not less.”
The backlash to Zohran Mamdani’s election is another stark reminder of how normalized anti-Muslim hate has become. For many Muslims, his victory was meaningful: here was a politician who spoke openly about his faith and did not feel the need to hide his spirituality. Over the month of Ramadan, he publicly observed by hosting and attending suhoor (pre-dawn breakfast) and iftars (breaking fast at sundown) with Muslims and non-Muslims alike. Yet Mamdani and his administration have been denigrated not on the basis of policy, but in abhorrent and ignorant terms that invoke his religion. Senator Tubberville reposted photos of the burning Twin Towers juxtaposed with Mamdani breaking bread with engaged constituents. The hateful caption read: “the enemy is inside the gates.”
The danger is not only the hate itself, but how easily it has become normalized. Why does this kind of intolerance not elicit the same level of backlash as similar rhetoric directed at other religions? Why is anti-Muslim hate still treated by so many as something less urgent, less disqualifying, and less morally outrageous?
These comments are not just words. We have already seen the real-world horrific implications of this increase in anti-Muslim hostility. In January, two Muslim women and a 12-year-old girl in Brooklyn were victims of a hate crime. On March 17, a young woman was attacked by a man making anti-Muslim statements at a subway stop in Brooklyn. Words matter. They can legitimize prejudice and embolden people to target others because of who they are. We must not shrug this off or treat it with indifference. We should be outraged.
There is nothing new about bigotry directed toward Muslims. As an Egyptian-American who was raised in New York and lived in Washington, DC during 9/11, this is not the first time I have seen our community feel anxious and unsafe. The fact that March 15 was designated as the International Day to Combat Islamophobia is a reminder that hate directed toward Muslims has been, and continues to be, a deeply persistent problem.
My colleagues at the Arab-American Family Support Center (AAFSC) remember 9/11, and the support we provided when it became normal to look at Muslims with deep suspicion. Members of our community were afraid to leave their homes. AAFSC received menacing voice messages for months and removed its public-facing sign out of fear.
In 2026, we are once again providing Know Your Rights training to a fearful community that feels unfairly targeted. Demand for our free mental health services, which we offer to clients experiencing a mental health crisis, has skyrocketed, driven in large part by the prejudice directed at them and by federal benefit and immigration policies that severely harm our communities. A federal travel ban disproportionately impacting Muslim-majority countries with profound implications for immigration, has caused havoc for families living here. The fear in our community is palpable, and the headwinds of bigotry are making our work to support communities in need much more difficult.
Perhaps the most insidious aspect of this moment is the normalization of this repugnant rhetoric. When we look the other way at hateful comments because they are made by someone with a history of intolerant remarks, we desensitize ourselves and give them a free pass. When elected officials traffic in anti-Muslim hate and the response is muted, delayed, or treated as politics as usual, even reasonable people inadvertently send a message that this kind of bigotry, while perhaps not welcome, is tolerable.
It is not. And we need to hold people to account. Censure against politicians is a step in the right direction, but it requires elected officials from all parties to stand up for what is right. All politicians must make it known, clearly and forcefully, whether they condone such rhetoric, and they must not hide behind the false innuendo that there is a problem of Islamic radicalization in America, as some in Congress have done. We should also applaud elected officials, like Speaker Menin and others, when they condemn politicians for saying reprehensible things about Muslims.
We also need more support for community-based organizations, including Muslim-serving ones, who are there for those affected by acts of hate, both high-profile and not. We need more programs that promote relief and healing for victims, mental health services and legal advocacy, and safe, affirming spaces for this and the next generation to come together, affirm their value, and lead. At a very basic level, we must hold those who say and spread dangerous words to account before their actions lead to even more violence against innocent people.
Muslims in New York are as American as anyone else. This is our country too, and we love it deeply. Those who attended our community iftar a few weeks ago saw the best that America has to offer. They heard the sounds of children laughing and playing while a diverse community representing every background, color, and race broke fast together and prayed for things to get better for anyone who is currently suffering.
Let’s do our part to make New York City and America more welcoming and tolerant places for all who have the privilege of living here.
Randy Ali is the Chief Executive Officer of the Arab-American Family Support Center.
