Opposing genocide in the twenty-first century : an interview with Momodou Taal

Florian Bobin and Amadou Kébé : You are all at once a podcaster, a scholar, and an activist. How have these commitments intersected throughout your personal journey ? Where does this early political consciousness come from ?

Momodou Taal : I come from a political family. I often laugh and say I watched an equal number of cartoons as I did the news. Looking back, it’s difficult to pinpoint a particular moment when political awareness arose. But I remember distinct moments : the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020, the global racial reckoning. That really sticks out to me. Also, the presidency, the election, the campaign of Barack Obama in 2008. Even though I’ve fallen out of love with Obama now for many reasons, I think that was also a pinnacle moment for me.

Since 2020, you have been hosting the interview podcast The Malcolm Effect, which has also led to the publication of a book in 2024. Through this project, you explore themes such as African history, Black internationalism, Islam, Marxism, and political economy. What does Malcolm X represent for you today ?

Reading The Autobiography of Malcolm X, which was gifted to me, was perhaps one of the most pivotal moments in my life. I just said to myself : I want to be like this person. When we think about the encapsulation of sincerity, and the willingness to be for a cause greater than oneself, I find Malcolm X embodies that. What Malcolm means to me today is that he is an example, a role model. He embodies what prophets are supposed to be – we are told in Islam that we have prophets as examples. Often, we can read things, and they feel distant. But with Malcolm, we see what it looks like to hold steadfast to your beliefs and convictions.

Cover of Momodou Taal’s book The Malcolm Effect Revisited (2024), based on his eponymous podcast (Momodou Taal)
In April 2025, while you were in your second year of a PhD at Cornell University, you were forced to leave the United States. Can you walk us through the circumstances surrounding your expulsion ?

The circumstances surrounding my forced expulsion from the United States can be summed up as an increasing environment of hostility towards anti-genocide positions, a pro-Palestinian stance, and calls for the liberation of Palestine. There has been a targeted attack, particularly on campuses, by the US administration.

It did not start with Donald Trump. Joe Biden set the scene. I was speaking at rallies, organizing on campus, and this led my university to effectively place a target on my back. With that targeting, I became known to the administration. I knew I was going to become a target, given the series of executive orders signed by Trump making it incumbent upon universities to report students. I thought I could protect myself and others like me – international students in the United States – by suing Trump, challenging the constitutionality of these executive orders. But this did not pan out as expected.

Within two and a half weeks, I had to go into hiding. Federal militia ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement] agents were sent to my house. I received an unfavorable warning from the judge. My visa was revoked, I was told to surrender to ICE custody, and then I left.

Do you consider yourself a political exile today ?

People have been calling me a political exile. I’ve never used that word myself. It was actually in Senegal when I first heard it. I guess, somewhat, yes. But the world is a big place, and far bigger than the United States — even though the United States doesn’t like to believe that. Many within the United States don’t like to or are unaware of how big the world is. To quote Ousmane Sembène : “Europe is not my center”. And neither is the United States for me.

How common is this kind of repression against outspoken Black voices in the United States ? What forms of support did you receive – and what silences stood out to you ?

There is a long history of oppression of Black activists in the United States. It predates the Civil Rights Movement. There was the Black and Red Scare, targeting those believed to be communists in the early 20th century and during the Cold War era. Even before that, during the slave trade, there had always been a struggle for Black liberation, and a targeting of Black freedom fighters.

I received a lot of support from people in the United States and abroad. However, I think the silence of my university in particular, and the silence of so many others within the United States, was striking. Because of their material incentive to stay quiet due to their position or career, they are not speaking about what is one of the worst crimes in my lifetime.

In January 2026, you were once again stopped by immigration authorities, this time at London airport. On what grounds ?

As soon as I disembarked the plane, it was clear they were waiting for me. Three officers were standing there, ready. I was shocked as this was my fourth time returning to the UK since leaving the US. When I asked why I was being detained – why now – I was told it was about “keeping the UK safe.” I remember thinking how absurd that sounded. Is opposing genocide now considered a threat to public safety ?

I was held for six hours and subjected to intrusive questioning about my childhood, the mosque I attended growing up, the Islamic preachers I followed, and my friendships. My DNA was taken. My phone and laptop were confiscated for over a week. At one point, I was even asked whether I had read Karl Marx. This was not a serious counterterrorism inquiry – it was a racist fishing expedition designed to intimidate and punish someone for advocating freedom and opposing mass slaughter.

The US and UK have a long and sordid history of intelligence sharing in the service of human rights abuses. My detention came the same week the United Nations raised serious concerns with my university over alleged human rights violations committed against me and another international student, Amandla Thomas-Johnson, following our participation in peaceful pro-Palestine protests. What happened to me at Heathrow airport was about silencing dissent. And it will not work.

Why are you personally committed to the Palestinian cause ? What connections do you see between this struggle and African struggles ?

I am committed to the Palestinian cause because Palestine is a litmus test. It’s not that we raise the Palestine issue over every other cause, but we recognize it is about questioning what type of world we want to live in.

If we talk about the reclamation of sovereignty and the Pan-Africanist future horizon, and we see a world in which there is such a level of impunity that thousands upon thousands of children can be slaughtered daily, while every single multilateral institution in the world is rubbish, then we have to question what type of future we want to live in. What does this event make possible, and what does it foreclose ?

Momodou Taal (left), alongside Amandla Thomas-Johson (right), during a pro-Palestine protest on the Cornell University campus in September 2024 (Lillian Wang/The Cornell Daily Sun)
What do you say to those who argue that the Palestinian cause “is not our struggle” ?

For me, standing in solidarity with Palestine makes possible an alternative future in which imperialism does not reign supreme – or we can be descending into barbarism. When I think of my heroes from the Black radical tradition, those who thought seriously about Black struggle, more often than not they always found that Palestinian liberation and Black liberation are intertwined.

When it comes to Black intellectuals, these are often the professional managerial class who either see Blackness as being tied to a particular geography, or whose understanding of Blackness does not offer solidarity. For me, when I think of the Black radical tradition, when I am in Black Studies, it is an imminent critique of the entire Western liberal order.

That means we recognize that I don’t want a world in which only Black people are doing well. We hold up a mirror to the white supremacist world and show them who they are. We know them so well, and we are the ones who can undo this world. Again : no world is possible without a Palestinian struggle.

In 2025, you travelled twice to Dakar – in June and then in December – where you spoke on the Palestinian struggle at the Museum of Black Civilizations. Your visits also coincided with the centennial commemorations of major figures such as Malcolm X, Frantz Fanon, and Patrice Lumumba. What do these figures still have to say to us today ?

The figures of Malcolm, Fanon, and Lumumba remain anchors and pillars of Black liberation. These were people who died or picked up arms to see Black people be free, but they also theorized and understood the world very well. They knew that our problems on the African continent are not solely to do with us, but with the imperialist global capitalist order imposed on us since colonialism.

For me, they represent different moments in the history and struggle of Black liberation, and they all speak to our condition. I reach for them often to think about what kind of politics we are supposed to bring about when dealing with the inheritance and legacies that colonialism has imprinted on our continent.

What did these stays in Senegal bring you, politically and personally ?

Dakar reminded me – Africa reminds me – that those who want a better and just future are the global majority. Being in the belly of the beast, within the US empire, you can sometimes feel small. But leaving that, you realize that most people in the world do not agree with Israel.

When I walked across the city, Random people in the street would notice that I was wearing a Palestinian flag or my bracelet. They would stop me and say, “Palestine ! We support Palestine !”

In the face of today’s imperial offensives, do you think there is a political void – or, on the contrary, a new generation taking up the struggle ?

I don’t think there is a void. There is Ibrahim Traoré, and there are others. But due to the material conditions of the world, there has also been a resurgent internationalism and a resurgent radicalism. I think we are on a good trajectory. But, as we often say on the Left, it is either socialism or barbarism.

How would you situate contemporary African intellectual production in relation to the legacy of its predecessors from the 20th century ?

I think African intellectual production has gone through several different eras. We had the decolonization era, and we must situate those thinkers in the task they were trying to accomplish. When you think of someone like Cheikh Anta Diop, he was responding to European intellectuals. But fundamentally, my understanding is that decolonization is, first and foremost, a material question.

How do we overturn the legacies imprinted on our continent – material legacies, like our economies ? I hold that the primary source of oppression for Black people in the world is the material conditions of existence. Given that, how do we arrange our resources in an equitable, egalitarian way that brings about material improvement for our people ?

In both the West and Africa, alternative media have taken on an increasingly important role in the political education of young people. Is it still possible to think and speak freely when you are Black, politically engaged, and radical ?

Alternative media is important. What happened to Nairobi-based outlet African Stream reminds us that we cannot always talk about radical politics in the way we want to. We cannot talk about radical politics in certain spaces, especially on platforms that we do not own. That also comes back to the question of owning the means of production.

If Malcolm X were alive today, where do you think he would be most dangerous to the established order – on a podcast, in a university, in exile, in prison ?

I think he would still be someone people turn to as an elder. He would be someone we rely on, we consult, and he would continue to inspire many of us.

If you had a message to address to African youth – especially those who feel discouraged or uncertain – what would it be ?

If I had a message for African youth, I would say : continue to read history, because history shows us what has been possible and what can be possible. I think the future is Africa, the future is Pan-Africanism, the future is transnational solidarity. We are the global majority.

Florian Bobin is a researcher in history and the author of Cette si longue quête. Vie et mort d’Omar Blondin Diop (Jimsaan, 2024). He is also editor-in-chief of La Case Mag, the magazine of the Museum of Black Civilizations in Dakar.

Amadou Kébé is a journalist at the Senegalese national daily newspaper Le Soleil, where he covers culture, history, and political thought in contemporary Africa.

Featured photograph : Momodou Taal (foreground) during a pro-Palestine protest on the Cornell University campus in 2024 (Unknown).