Recognizing the Carpetbagger in the Room
Carpetbagger: a man who came down from the North with nothing but a carpetbag and a promise—usually false—to lift up the South, while lifting all he could into his own pockets.”
— Anonymous Southern saying, Reconstruction Era
My neighborhood in New Brunswick, New Jersey always felt boxed in—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. I lived in the Jersey Avenue box. Others lived in the downtown or uptown projects, Simplex, or the Village. Each place had its own set of boundaries, its own kind of invisible fence. As a teenager, I felt that confinement deeply.
I didn’t know much about the world. I only knew the struggle—growing up on food stamps, standing in food lines for blocks of government cheese and oversized cans of peanut butter. Drugs, prostitution, violence, guns, and police brutality shaped the corners of our lives. Churches were planted in every neighborhood, but mostly filled only on Sundays.
To say I had space to think would be an understatement. And yet, even back then, I had a hunger to see and experience more—something out there in the wide world.
As I got older, I began casting my net wider. I studied. I traveled. I worked in major corporations. And over time, my perspective began to shift. Now, I have what I call a rounded perspective—a lens that doesn’t just accept the surface narrative but asks: Where is this story coming from? Who does it serve?
And because of that, I understand who is still in the box—and why they can’t get out. I lived it. It’s not just about lack of ambition; it’s about lack of access, lack of exposure, and the overwhelming pressure of daily survival. So I don’t judge those still in that place—I recognize them. I carry them with me.
Having widened my perspective, I now see both sides of a narrative more clearly—what’s said, what’s unsaid, and what’s strategically performed. And that brings me to what’s unfolding in New York City with Zohran Mamdani.
The Rise of the Algorithm Candidate
On the surface, Mamdani comes across as clean-cut, articulate, polished. But it’s a performance. He shines like a big, fat fake. And yet, nearly a million people voted for him. How is that even possible?
Because he didn’t rise on substance. He rose through algorithms—through curated digital content and clever positioning. He spoon-fed just enough progressive bait, just enough polished videos, just enough activist language to generate engagement. That engagement became a following. And that following turned into votes.
Taking off my rose-colored glasses and putting on my Jersey Avenue ones—the ones that give me much more clarity—I see the true Mamdani.
Just like Yuval Harari, a historian, author, philosophical thinker, and now a spokesperson on AI, warns in Nexus: algorithms are no longer passive tools. They actively shape perception, loyalty, and political direction. Harari discusses how Facebook’s algorithm helped inflame the civil war in Myanmar—amplifying hate, spreading misinformation, and allowing one side of the conflict to dominate unchecked.
But what Harari doesn’t fully explore is the flip side of that coin—what happens when the same algorithm starts to tell the other side of the story. When the engagement machine turns back around and rises up with a counter-narrative—one that opens the bag and exposes the tricks.
And that’s exactly what’s happening now with Mamdani. The same platforms that once elevated him through short-form video, viral slogans, and carefully crafted identity are now surfacing the inconsistencies, the omissions, and the contradictions. The same algorithm that built the myth is now peeling it apart, piece by piece—giving people a chance to see the truth for themselves.
He knew how to police his language. He knew when to lean into his Arabic twang and when to present himself as culturally flexible. Some have alleged that he identified as African American on his Columbia University application—though no formal evidence has been made public. Whether true or not, the perception persists, and it reflects a broader skepticism about how he shapes his identity for gain.
He branded himself as someone who cares deeply about the community—but he avoids real moral clarity when it counts. He won’t say if Israel has a right to exist or defend itself. He dodges these truths with carefully crafted language, hiding behind progressive identity while signaling something very different to those paying attention.
The Democrats’ New Ticket
The Democrats are now celebrating Mamdani as if he’s the new ticket to the White House. But what they’re not seeing is that he’s inauthentic—another Kamala, only worse. His disdain for Israel appears to be consistent, and though he claims to separate his politics from religion, his framing aligns with those who use anti-Zionism to justify deeper hostilities.
Meanwhile, many Jewish New Yorkers appear to be following him in good faith—unaware that his policies may ultimately work against the very communities he claims to support.
He’s not just wrong on the surface—his policies are dangerous in practice. He wants to implement free buses for all without addressing how it impacts daily commuters. In cities like Kansas City, fare-free transit led to system overcrowding, maintenance issues, and rider conflict. In a city like New York—with layered infrastructure and deep economic divides—this proposal is likely to create more friction than equity. He has walked back his “defund the police” rhetoric—but only after realizing the chaos it invites. And his idea of paying for social programs by taxing white neighborhoods—many of which include working-class Jewish families—isn’t just bad policy, it’s divisive.
According to his own campaign website, he explicitly supports reallocating resources away from white neighborhoods to support underserved communities. Equity matters—but when framed racially without economic nuance, it risks creating resentment, not repair.
More of the Same: Mamdani’s Obama Playbook
Mamdani is using President Obama’s playbook—and anyone paying attention can see it. Running for city or state office is just the first step. He’s being touted for his looks, youth, and charisma, not for his capability, experience, or substance. He lacks the qualifications and depth needed for serious governance. He’s a DEI candidate in every sense of the word—symbolic, strategically placed, and propped up by identity politics.
Most pundits remain quiet about his socialist leanings, his bias against white communities, and his habit of dodging real questions. He even proposes turning state-run grocery stores into neighborhood staples, which reads more like a page out of a communist playbook than a practical solution for food insecurity.
And when the pressure rises? He reaches into that dirty carpetbag and pulls out answers that are nothing more than branded lies.
He insists he understands the American experience. But he only became a U.S. citizen seven years ago—and comes from Indian parents whose loyalty and cultural alignment lie outside the American struggle, no matter the passport. He often references Martin Luther King Jr. on the campaign trail. While many politicians do, in Mamdani’s case, it feels calculated—an attempt to anchor his movement in Black civil rights symbolism and pull in Black voters to a revolution that isn’t theirs. But this time, we’re not impressed.
Most Black New Yorkers voted for Cuomo. After what we experienced with Kamala Harris, many of us have learned to see through both sides. It’s refreshing to know I’m not the only one in my community who can spot a snake in political packaging. We were nearly fooled twice—but not again. Not this time.
If Mamdani wins, it won’t be because of the Black community. It will be at the hands of the very communities he’s quietly working to divide.
The Miscalculation
I think Mamdani miscalculated. He played his card too soon. He relied heavily on algorithms during the primary mayoral election in New York City, using viral clips and TikTok-style messaging to sway voters. But now, those same algorithms are surfacing the truth about who he really is—and what we’re seeing is someone who built his platform on a lie.
We’re learning he has a deep disdain for Israel, and many of the policies he’s pushing are nearly impossible to implement. He wants to give everyone the ability to ride the bus for free but doesn’t address the homeless crisis in New York. The reality is this: when buses become makeshift shelters, workers trying to commute will be forced to compete with people simply trying to stay warm or find refuge. That’s not compassion—it’s conflict waiting to happen.
He’s also walked back his position on defunding the police—because he’s starting to realize you can’t run a system like that (with free transportation, more transient populations, and reduced enforcement) without public safety support. Now, the police unions are saying if he’s elected, they’ll walk out. That says everything about how seriously they take his leadership.
Meanwhile, Mayor Eric Adams could use the same algorithms Mamdani relied on—but this time, to elevate real results. New York didn’t end up like Chicago. It didn’t collapse under the weight of the migrant crisis the way other cities did. That wasn’t by accident—it was leadership. And Adams, whether people love him or not, navigated New York through something unprecedented.
The danger of Mamdani isn’t just that he has bad ideas. It’s that he packaged them so well, people mistook them for solutions. Now the mask is slipping—and the algorithm is turning on the very image it helped create.
When the Algorithm Flips the Script
And now he’s trying to rewrite again—saying, “I love Jews but I hate Zionists,” as if the two are neatly separable. There’s a growing attempt to draw a line between being Jewish and supporting Israel, and while there are certainly Jewish individuals who reject Zionism, we can’t ignore the fact that Zionists are overwhelmingly Jewish, and Israel is, at its core, a Jewish state, even if it claims to be secular.
To pretend you can slice Zionism cleanly away from Jewish identity—especially in the context of global antisemitism—is misleading. It’s a form of intellectual dishonesty masked as nuance.
The Last Word
When I think things over, and reflect back to my days in New Brunswick, I realize that those early experiences gave me a certain kind of vision—a clarity of discernment. It allows me to see what’s really happening beneath the surface. I can see the dissonance between what appears to be true and what is, in fact, a lie. I’ve lived through too much to be fooled by polish or platform. That box I grew up in didn’t limit my thinking—it sharpened it.
While Democrats are out here raving over the success of Mamdani, I’m reminded of one simple truth: I can see that he’s a carpetbagger. No different than those Northerners who traveled South after the Civil War, pretending to carry bags full of reform—when in reality, they were selling lies wrapped in promises. They came in the name of progress, but their motives were self-serving.
I pride myself on my humble upbringing, because it gave me something social media can’t: the ability to spot a fraud, no matter how polished the presentation or how favorable the algorithm.
When I think about social media, one thing remains true: lived experience always trumps the lies the algorithm tells. Unfortunately, few others possess that lens. And that’s what makes this moment so dangerous.
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© 2025 Jacqueline Session Ausby. All rights reserved. This post and all original content published under DahTruth are the intellectual property of Jacqueline Session Ausby. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
