Rhetoric at the Crossroads: When Activism and Identity Collide
On a chilly afternoon in Manhattan, where the ever-buzzing city squares so often turn into platforms for dissent, the rhetoric of recent campus activism has flared into a larger debate about language, faith, and the role of youth in progressive movements. The latest spark: a viral video featuring Hadeeqa Malik, a City College of New York student and former intern for New York State Assemblyman Zohran Mamdani, speaking passionately about Palestinian solidarity. Malik, addressing fellow Muslim students during a CUNY4Palestine webinar, described their political activism against Israel’s actions in Gaza as “all jihad,” framing protest as both a religious obligation and political resistance.
Her message came wrapped in a challenge: risk suspension, arrest, or even being doxed for the cause. She confronted Muslims who had yet to join protests, sharply questioning their commitment both to their faith and the movement against what she termed “settler colonialism.” In her telling, activism wasn’t just a civic right but a form of worship—a theme that echoes throughout American protest history, where social justice movements have frequently drawn on religious language to mobilize marginalized communities.
Yet Malik’s rhetoric ran up against the edge of decorum when she not only invoked religious terms like “jihad” and “ibadah” (worship), but also confronted a Muslim NYPD officer at a demonstration, criticizing him for collaborating with law enforcement, and disparagingly referred to police as “pigs.” The backlash was swift.
Defiant Voices: The Power and Peril of Ground-Level Organizing
Student activism has long been a barometer of social change—witness the lunch-counter sit-ins of the 1960s, the divestment campaigns against South African apartheid, or Black Lives Matter marches that forced a national reckoning. Today’s activism around Palestine finds powerful resonance on college campuses, stirring both solidarity and acrimony. The risks faced by protesters—disciplinary measures, public vilification, and even threats to personal safety—remain as daunting now as they did for civil rights icons a half-century ago.
Malik’s exhortation—“How gangster are you?”—dared fellow protesters to meet consequences head-on, a nod to the courage demanded of those who make themselves visible for controversial causes. Her words, though, have drawn concern for the way they mine religious fervor to galvanize political action. As John Esposito, professor of Islamic Studies at Georgetown University, has noted, the term “jihad” has been distorted and weaponized in both public discourse and media; using it within domestic activism presents risks of misunderstanding, polarization, and reprisal.
When Malik pressed the Muslim NYPD officer, her invocation of solidarity and faith collided with the complexities of individual identity and public service. In a city as diverse as New York, is it fair to demand a singular vision of what social conscience should look like? Real-world activism, as seen at Columbia and City College protests, is rarely neat. Some see police officers as the enemy; others see them as fellow citizens navigating their own journeys through complicated terrain.
“No real social movement has ever succeeded without the willingness to risk personal comfort for moral principle. But when that risk is wrapped in absolutist language, it can narrow both the coalition and the conversation.”
As Harvard political theorist Danielle Allen writes, successful coalitions in liberation movements require capacious definitions of belonging. Rhetoric meant to embolden sometimes alienates would-be allies who worry about the overstepping of civic boundaries or the invocation of exclusivist sanctimony.
Progressive Debate: Free Speech, Identity Politics, and the Slippery Slope
Progressives must wrestle openly with thorny questions provoked by incidents like this. Drawing the line between impassioned protest and reckless provocation is never simple. Right-wing pundits predictably seized on Malik’s words, twisting them as evidence of rising “radicalism” on the political left and an alleged threat to public order. Lost beneath the noise are fundamental concerns: When do the actions of one zealous individual taint an entire movement? What happens when student protest rhetoric, rooted in pain and urgency, is exploited as a cudgel for reactionary backlash?
Across the nation, colleges are facing renewed scrutiny—and sometimes legal challenges—over pro-Palestinian activism. In too many cases, conservative policymakers have responded not with dialogue but with repression, attempting to chill student speech through suspension, blacklisting, and surveillance. A recent report by PEN America found that attempts to police student activism, especially when framed in ethnic, racial, or religious terms, have been escalating since October 2023. Poorly drawn, reactionary crackdowns stifle the “marketplace of ideas” that democracy requires.
Nevertheless, the left has an equally urgent responsibility: to encourage robust protest while also advocating for language and tactics that build bridges, not burn them. Vehement passion, especially among younger activists, is essential for energizing movements. But history shows that durable change is the result of forging solidarity across divides—faith, race, class, and profession.
Zohran Mamdani, the lawmaker at the center of these headlines, has remained silent about Malik’s viral remarks. That silence frustrates many who believe that leaders should help guide and model the balance between moral conviction and inclusive rhetoric. As New York’s progressive movement contends with accusations of extremism and the lived realities of repression, a more open internal reckoning is needed—not just about what protesters say, but about the higher purpose these movements aim to serve.
The Tension, and the Path Forward
The debate reignited by Hadeeqa Malik’s comments isn’t new, nor will it quickly fade. Americans, whether activists or armchair observers, must recognize the central paradox: The moral force that powers movements sometimes pushes against the pragmatism needed for real-world coalition-building. Student activists will not stop raising their voices, any more than police officers will stop showing up to maintain order—both are integral to the ever-evolving experiment that is American democracy.
Progressives owe it to themselves—and to the communities they seek to liberate—not only to demand justice, but to practice it through words and deeds that respect plurality. That means challenging reckless suppression by conservative authorities while fostering the kinds of dialogue that bring more people into the struggle for a fairer, more just society. After all, the next spark—like those preceding it—will not mark the end, but yet another chapter in the centuries-old quest to weave activism, identity, and justice into a common civic fabric.
