Rama Duwaji, the Mayor’s Wife Who Brought Palestinian Art to the Heart of New York

By Fatima Haydar

Every now and then, politics gives you a moment that actually feels real — stripped of slogans, flashy speeches and all the noise. One of those rare moments happened recently in New York City.

As Zohran Mamdani celebrated his historic victory as the city’s first Muslim and South Asian mayor, all eyes gradually turned to the woman standing quietly beside him. Rama Duwaji, a Syrian-American artist, didn’t need to say a word. She didn’t have to say anything; her stillness said enough.

Everything about that moment felt intentional — from the way she stood, calm and poised, to the outfit she picked. She wore a piece by Zeid Hijazi, a Palestinian-Jordanian designer known for mixing Arab heritage with a futuristic, almost story-like touch. The outfit was simple, black and sharp, but underneath it carried something more powerful: a quiet act of defiance.

Hijazi’s pieces aren’t just clothes. They’re stories stitched into fabric — carrying the history of a region that has endured occupation, displacement and erasure, yet still finds ways to create beauty. On that stage, Duwaji wasn’t wearing fashion — she was wearing identity. It wasn’t about cameras or glamour; it was about making culture visible.

While Mamdani spoke with passion about justice, inclusion and standing up for the forgotten, Duwaji was right there beside him – calm and steady. Where he brought fire, she brought balance. Together, they told a story of strength and heart.

Duwaji, the daughter of Syrian immigrants, has spent years exploring questions of identity and belonging through her illustrations and animation. For many watching — from Amman to Ramallah, from Brooklyn to Beirut — seeing her on that stage felt personal. It was a quiet affirmation for every Arab and Muslim woman who has learned to navigate between worlds, carrying her roots not as a burden, but as a compass.

In a world where Palestinian artists and designers are often overlooked or erased, Duwaji’s choice to wear Hijazi’s design mattered. It wasn’t about luxury or standing out. It was about reclaiming space, showing that art and identity can exist together, and proving that visibility only matters when it’s real.

That night, Mamdani got the headlines — his promises, his calls for a fairer, more inclusive city. But when the applause faded, it was Duwaji’s image that stayed with people. She was the quiet counterpart to her husband’s political fire — proof that strength doesn’t always have to shout, that resistance can be graceful and that art can say what politics can’t.

At a time when Islamophobia is still everywhere and speaking up for Palestinian voices are still all too real, Duwaji’s choice to put Arab art on the world stage was both personal and political. It wasn’t just about art – it was about taking up space, voice and existing fully without apology. Her presence turned what could’ve been just another political moment into something bigger — a quiet but powerful statement of culture and resistance.

In a city that’s always questioning its own conscience, Rama Duwaji brought something rare: genuineness. Her quiet presence turned a victory speech into a statement about belonging. A Palestinian designer’s work made it into City Hall, worn by a Syrian-American woman standing beside a Muslim mayor. Together, they weren’t just showing change, but continuity — a living thread connecting struggle, beauty and identity.

That night wasn’t just about winning an election. It was about what happens when heritage and hope stand side by side — and refuse to apologize for being seen.