New York State Assemblyman Zohran Mamdani’s victory in June’s Democratic primary for New York City mayor wasn’t just a political upset — it’s a historic echo. Nearly 70 years ago, in a vast California district spanning Palm Springs to the Mexico border, a naturalized Sikh American named Dalip Singh Saund stunned the political establishment by winning his seat in Congress. Saund’s story offers a striking parallel to Mamdani’s, and both wins serve as powerful reminders that in America, elections are not owned by the powerful. They’re earned by the people.
Back in 1956, Saund campaigned not only against political opponents, but against deeply embedded beliefs about who could and could not represent America. During the primaries, his Democratic opponent Carl Kegley branded him a “Hindu Communist” (a Cold War slur akin to the “Islamic extremist” label Muslims face today) and challenged Saund’s eligibility in court. In the general election, Saund faced formidable Republican Jackie Cochran Odlum — a record-breaking aviator, wealthy businesswoman and ally of President Eisenhower. With an enormous budget and an army of campaign staffers, she staged celebrity-studded rallies at her private ranch in Indio.
When Cochran Odlum left the district for a spell to serve in the Air Force Reserve, Saund and his grassroots team — his wife, children, and a few volunteers — registered more than 6,500 new voters in a district where 110,000 would cast their votes. The team crisscrossed the 11,000-square-mile district to hang hand-painted signs and host modest barbecues, campaigning with tireless optimism to earn every vote.
Alarmed by Saund’s momentum, Cochran Odlum launched a slew of xenophobic attacks — questioning his loyalty, invoking his “foreign” name and claiming his dark skin would sideline him in a party dominated by powerful Southern Democrats.
Saund met these assaults with clarity and conviction, asking voters to judge him fairly. He distributed leaflets titled “What America Means to Me,” crediting Abraham Lincoln with changing the course of his life. Saund reminded voters that he’d grown up under British colonial rule and had chosen American democracy as written in the Declaration of Independence. He also met skepticism with humor. When asked if he would give out turbans to constituents, Saund replied, “I don’t care what a man has on top of his head. All I’m interested in is what he’s got inside of it.”
In the final stretch, prominent Democrats rallied behind Saund. Then-Sen. John F. Kennedy endorsed Saund, saying his election would show the world that American democracy was real and “greatly advance the cause of world peace.” Tennessee Gov. Frank Clement directly countered Cochran Odlum’s claim that Southern Democrats would not work with Saund, assuring Riverside voters that Saund would receive “full respect, dignity and courtesy” in Congress. The Record Gazette urged residents to cross party lines and vote for Saund “for the sake of the district and of the principles of democracy.”
Voters listened. On election day, with 80% voter turnout across the district, Saund won, making history as the first Asian American, Indian American and Sikh American in Congress. He served California’s 29th District, then comprising Riverside and Imperial counties, for three terms through 1962.
Today, Mamdani faces similar gatekeeping forces: well-financed insiders, whisper campaigns of xenophobia and a political culture that struggles to reconcile diversity with power. His opponents have accused him of dangerous affiliations despite a record of community organizing, tenant advocacy and, yes, a viral rap tribute to his grandmother. Like Saund, Mamdani has appealed directly to voters with the same resilience, humor and authenticity that once won over California farmers.
Of course, Mamdani and Saund come from different eras and political traditions. Saund was a midcentury Democrat who worked across party lines and emphasized diplomacy during the Cold War; Mamdani is part of a new generation of progressives challenging the status quo. Like Saund, Mamdani built his campaign without major institutional backing — relying instead on grassroots organizing, charm and a relentless focus on local concerns. Both men ran as underdogs, were underestimated by their opponents and responded to exclusionary tactics with a belief in democracy and the conviction that voters will choose representation that reflects their values.
In the three years I’ve spent researching Saund’s campaign for an upcoming documentary film, what I found is both an important milestone in representation and a blueprint for honest democracy — one rooted in the radical idea that American candidates, regardless of name or origin, can earn the public’s trust. When candidates show up, listen and speak from the heart, they can win, even against money and power.
Mamdani’s victory is not an outlier, it’s part of this distinctly American tradition. The people of this country still believe in justice and fair play. So as we look ahead to November, let’s think of that 1956 editorial in the Record Gazette, calling on voters to rise above partisanship and prejudice. Let’s ask the same of our leaders today: keep the campaign clean, debate policies and reject fear-based attacks. Let’s keep this fight about the future. And let’s remember: In a true democracy, belonging is not a gift — it is claimed by those willing to stand up, speak clearly and trust the public to judge them on their merits.
Mridu Chandra is a BAFTA- and Emmy-nominated filmmaker currently directing a film about Rep. Dalip Singh Saund.
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