This article was copublished in collaboration with The Poynter Institute for Media Studies.
On the evening of Jan. 6, members of the press received Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s public schedule for the following day. Mamdani was slated to host his first “new media press conference.” It stated that the event would be “invited press only.”
We journalists who work for community news outlets weren’t part of that list. We’ve had difficulty getting in touch with Mamdani’s team since before he took office.
That experience isn’t new. Epicenter, a multiplatform community and news organization founded during the pandemic to help New Yorkers navigate COVID-19 while spotlighting arts, small businesses and ensuring resources reached those who needed them most, has faced this challenge repeatedly. Community, ethnic and small media outlets have long struggled to get responses from government and corporate press teams that prioritize outlets with perceived scale and reach. We are small fish in a very large pond, one where access is often distributed according to audience size rather than proximity to the communities most affected by policy.
So we settled in to watch a livestream of the event, as we usually do. That’s also how we learned that we weren’t facing the usual freezeout: The room was filled not with traditional reporters, but with influencers and content creators.
During the event, Mamdani explained that while he meets with the press corps daily, it was important for him to speak directly to everyday New Yorkers — and to bring those New Yorkers inside City Hall. His comments explained why those influencers were there.
It was hard not to feel a sting at the realization of what was happening. We were being leapfrogged by an expanding definition of the media. But community and ethnic news outlets are not fringe publications. They are communication infrastructure. They are how our neighbors learn about school zoning changes, housing lotteries, immigration policy shifts. They are how information moves through languages, cultures and generations across the city.
Since its founding in Jackson Heights in 2020, Epicenter has grown to connect New Yorkers across newsletters, podcasts, social video and in-person events, reporting civic life, health, education and housing, while organizing community gatherings.
Community and ethnic news outlets are “the people,” too, representing millions of New Yorkers across 270-plus publications.
So the moment raised a deeper question: Who gets to count as the press now, and who gets left out when access is redefined? The answer is being rewritten in real time, and our communities cannot afford to be an afterthought in that process.
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In April 2025, Sen. Cory Booker held a town hall at a community college in New Jersey. At the time, the prevailing narrative was that Democrats were out of touch with their voters. Booker’s solution was to speak directly to constituents.
After the event, a familiar ritual followed: the press gaggle. Usually this means getting jostled in a pack of reporters that clumps around an elected official in a hallway, screaming, “Senator! Senator!” and hoping you’re picked to ask a question.
This time, though, we were shuffled into a quiet, empty classroom, forming a half circle around the Jersey Democrat. When the gaggle began, two people I recognized from TikTok walked in alongside us.
Booker had recently been tasked with revamping the Democrats’ digital strategy. I could see how inviting content creators was part of that. We took turns asking our questions, the creators asking theirs alongside us — though one did request a separate take so they could get a better camera angle.
In that moment, that person broadened my perspective on how I perceived news to be told.
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In a recent Jacobin interview, Mamdani’s campaign creative director, Andrew Epstein, said that “how you’re covered by local press, while important, is no longer determinative.” The team “knew that the majority of people they wanted to mobilize weren’t getting their politics from that coverage.”
At Mamdani’s first new media presser, creators were mostly congratulatory and asked how the mayor planned to tackle the cost-of-living crisis. He responded with some of what he’s done in his first week in office: tackled junk fees, created open forums for New Yorkers to share their opinions on rent, approved projects to make city streets safer.
A few did ask pointed questions: How did he plan to implement these policies? What were his thoughts on ICE killing a woman in Minnesota, and how would he protect New Yorkers here?
According to The New York Times, “reporters from ‘legacy media’ outlets like The New York Post and NY1, who aggressively cover the daily workings of municipal government, were prohibited” from attending. A Times media reporter, however, was allowed to observe.
The gatekeeping didn’t dismantle hierarchy; it just shifted who sits at the top. In the new order, as in the old order, community outlets embedded in the neighborhoods Mamdani campaigned to serve were left out in the cold.
The role of social media in political success is not something to dismiss. Podcasts, short-form video and punchy X posts were the foundation of Mamdani’s campaign. They were what brought him the attention he was able to convert into support and the army of volunteers that brought him victory.
On Jan. 8, Mamdani sat down for a podcast with independent nonprofit newsroom The City, where he was questioned about his decision to hold a new media-only presser. He said he would take an “all of the above approach,” speaking to content creators and journalists throughout his time as mayor.
But that’s not how it feels in practice. “New media” must be a broad ecosystem. It takes in content creators and advocates, yes, but also is fueled by news outlets — legacy and community — working in relationship with one another.
What’s being overlooked is how central news outlets still are to how people piece together information. However adept they are at catchy presentations, influencers, by and large, still get their information from other sources. Mamdani’s new media presser occurred the same day that ICE shot and killed a woman in Minnesota. I saw friends and sources sharing a mix of posts from content creators, traditional outlets and firsthand accounts. All of these posts, taken together, informed the truth of what was happening.
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I’m not simply defending the old order and legacy media outlets. I, as a reporter, have been subject to racism and discrimination in mainstream journalism and found refuge in community media. So I understand where Mamdani’s team is coming from, to an extent.
I became a journalist because I didn’t see myself or my community reflected in the news I grew up watching. I didn’t see families like mine or the stories we shared around our kitchen tables. That’s how I decided to go to journalism school — not for prestige, but because I believed it would give me access when doors were otherwise closed.
Working for community-led news outlets like Epicenter NYC has been the most rewarding part of my career. They have the flexibility to be nimble in an ever-changing media environment. And yet, these outlets are routinely starved for funding.
Over the last several years, ad revenue directed by law toward community and ethnic media withered. During Mamdani’s transition, these same outlets struggled to get basic guidance on how to cover his inauguration block party. Emails to the press team went unanswered.
I decided to show up to the inauguration as a regular member of the public so I could still report on this historic moment. I remember standing in the cold, puffer coat zipped to my chin, feeling like I was in a mosh pit among thousands of supporters as we waited for the members of the NYPD to pat us down. I saw another local TV outlet crew asking the police how to get inside, and being told to join the crowd.
Other news organizations got to set up early, much closer to where the mayor would speak.
In the weeks leading up to that day, headlines from larger outlets had teased what would happen during Mamdani’s inauguration. Those are the kinds of scoops that come through press releases and insider phone calls — messages that community outlets don’t always receive.
As the NYPD officer patted me down across my chest and legs, I couldn’t help but feel that familiar sensation: fighting to make sure our voice was heard.
I was there because I have a story adjacent to Mamdani’s. I am alive because of New York City. I have one grandfather from China, a Japanese American grandmother who left California after World War II and two grandparents who left Italy in search of economic opportunity. New York City is where they rebuilt their lives so that I could be here now, telling stories about the city they believed in.
The definition of “journalism” and who gets to tell the news is changing. Journalists don’t do their work alone. They are able to report the news because of what they learn from the immigration organizations that keep watch at detention centers, the neighbors who build mutual aid networks and the families who tell us how their loved ones were shot by the police. They are the original storytellers, and they need to be at the forefront of their own stories.
And TikTok is not the only place where innovation is happening. Community, ethnic and independent news outlets have been around for years but are also actively redefining what “news” is, how it gets told, and who gets to tell it.
Yes, it’s savvy of Mamdani to invite influencers into a privileged space to share your political message. Such access has always been a smart comms strategy, and social media can amplify your platform.
But wouldn’t it be equally smart if our outlets were centered in announcements such as street redesigns or socioeconomic policies — issues we’ve been covering and living with for years?
Community, ethnic and independent media are not asking for special treatment. We are asking not to be erased in a moment when the definition of “press” is rapidly transforming.
