Poetry, politics, and performance: Inside Omar Offendum’s ‘Little Syria’

Syrian-American rapper, poet and activist, Omar Offendum, pays tribute to the once-thriving neighbourhood of Little Syria in New York City with his “Little Syria” performances that have sold out shows across the United States.

Once located along Washington Street in the heart of Lower Manhattan, Little Syria was the epicenter of Arab-American culture in New York.

From the 1880s to the 1940s, it was home to a diverse mix of Syrians, Lebanese, Palestinians, and other Arab communities, many of whom were escaping political unrest and poverty in their home countries.

The neighborhood gave rise to some of the earliest Arab-American businesses, social institutions, and cultural landmarks.

Fascination, passion

It was here that the Arab-American press was born, and here that prominent Arab-American figures such as writer Ameen Rihani and intellectual Kahlil Gibran once walked the streets.

Omar’s fascination with the neighbourhood led him to a deep-dive of discovery and his passion for the subject shines, whether he’s on stage reciting or speaking sincerely about a subject so close to his heart.

The Kurator caught up with the artist after Quoz Arts Fest 2025 in Dubai…

Tell us about your fascination with the Little Syria neighborhood?

You know, the fascinating thing about Little Syria is that even though only a couple of thousand people were living there, at its peak I think it had two dozen newspapers being published there, so this was a highly literate community that understood the importance of spreading information and sharing knowledge.

In fact, the printing press was modified on Washington Street to be able to print in Arabic faster.

What I found really amazing was the Al-Funoon newspaper, which brought together the first Arab-American artistic collective, al-Rabitah al-Qalamiyah (The Pen League). This group of writers, philosophers, poets, and scholars promoted Arab art and culture through poetry, storytelling, translation, and art. Kahlil Gibran was the president at one point and did many illustrations for the paper. They even had a jokes section.

This was a really beautiful discovery to me that helped shape my understanding of what artists and poets like myself were experiencing over 100 years ago in New York City. One of the things I found was that they dealt with a similar sort of opposition from within the community for simply being artists and championing the importance of art. While art is a very important part of our culture, it's not necessarily something that our parents would encourage us to pursue as a career, and I heard echoes of that even back then in their work.

One figure who was extremely important was Ameen Rihani, who authored the very first Arab-American novel published in 1911 - The Book of Khalid. Books like that and the poems of poets like Elia Abu Madi and Mikhail Naimy are featured in many of the songs and the performances of “Little Syria”.

How do you weave hip-hop with Arabic music to create something new?

There is a very long history of poetry and intellectualism within hip hop. Hip hop is the modern incarnation of centuries of African-American artistic expression that's rooted in poetry and intellectualism just as much as it’s rooted in struggle and identity.

I grew up listening to hip hop in the early ‘90s from rappers like Rakim, Nas, Tupac, and Black Thought, who were extremely intellectual, extremely poetic, and at the same time they definitely spoke about the struggle.

Vice versa, I would say that Arabic music carries within it centuries of struggle and identity as well — it's very much weaved into the fabric of our culture and our society all over the Arabic speaking world. 

I do believe that what I do is new — it's unique to me, for sure, perhaps because I also add the element of education that is baked into the music in such a way that you don't necessarily feel like it's preaching to you.

At the same time it is eye-opening for a lot of people, especially those Americans who had no idea about just how profound the work of many of these writers who I’d mentioned previously was. Every song on this project was touched by one of them.

Beyond that, the newspaper articles referenced in my performance can be very illuminating for people because, for example, there's one song “Not quite white” where I list off a bunch of headlines from newspapers from the late 1800s that sound like they were lifted from today.

Things like “Arabs not wanted”, and “Syrians must go back”... The xenophobia and the racism — it's not anything new. It’s existed for a very long time.

Is there more to come from you and your two collaborators on stage?

My collaborators on stage are an integral part of how this project came together.

Thanks Joey is a beat maker born in Brooklyn of Syrian origin currently living in Los Angeles — some of the songs he samples even include the work of his own grandfather, Youssef Kassab, who is a legendary Syrian musician based in Brooklyn in the ‘70s, ‘80s and ‘90s.

We also sampled songs from the time period, from Alexander Maloof who was the first and most well-known composer from the Little Syria neighborhood in the late 1800s and early 1900s.

So whether it's Alexander Maloof or Joey's grandfather or other well known Syrian folk music, we weave that all in together with the help of Ronnie Malley, who is a Palestinian multi instrumentalist who plays the oud and the piano in the show and sings, as well.

He carries this knowledge of Arabic music in a very deep way - he’s an ethnomusicologist as well, so he has a very important role in terms of the soundscape of the project.

I'm very proud of the fact that we've been able to sell out venues all across New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles, and are beginning to perform internationally now as well.

We were just in Dubai for the Quoz Arts Fest and a lot of folks really appreciated it, so it was nice to see that it's not only something that Americans can appreciate but even people back in our world, so I hope to be able to tour across the Middle East region.

You've had a multifaceted career, with a focus on not only music but activism and public speaking. How do you see your art evolving?

I am so grateful that I have been able to maintain this level of motivation and inspiration and creativity over the years, and a lot of that just has to do with the fact that I follow my heart, I trust my artistic instincts and my creative spirit, and I don't necessarily feel the need to put what I do in any particular sort of box or to classify it.

And as I get older I’m still as excited as I was when I started, because I enjoy the process just as much as I enjoy the “product”.

All of this ties into my becoming a father as well and understanding my role as a father has helped understand my role as an artist, because when you're raising children you try to really think about every decision you make and prioritize what's important in your life and have a sense of responsibility towards them.

“Little Syria” to me is really special because it is the kind of space that is inviting an intergenerational audience to appreciate the music and the poetry and the experience, and so when I look out at audiences, whether they're in New York or Chicago or LA or Dubai, and I see grandparents, and I see little children, and I see everybody having a good time and feeling proud and feeling represented and feeling inspired… You know, that is the greatest feeling. Truly.

Will you continue to combine social commentary with entertainment?

I don't know if I can necessarily even separate them. I’ve always been drawn to entertainment that has embedded in it either social commentary or historical references or analyses. It has an element of reality to it, and at the same time allows us to imagine different ways of being.

With my shows, whether it's “Little Syria” or Omar Offendum performances, I try to make sure that everybody can leave with something.

So if it’s the poetry that's touching you, that's wonderful. If it's the music, if it's the way I rap, if it's the way I represent myself on stage, if it's the historical or current pop culture references that I'm pulling from… Whatever it is that is exciting you, that's intentional, and I carry that over even to my social media presence.

Which figures, both within and outside of the hip-hop world, have had the most influence on your style?

First and foremost I always mention Nizar Qabbani, who was from Damascus, the most prolific poet of the 20th century. In every one of my projects his work is featured in some way, and I'm just so proud to be connected to his poetic legacy through my mother and through just being from Damascus.

Mahmoud Darwish as well, the foremost poet of the Palestinian resistance - I've translated and recited his poems and continue to recite many of his poems on stage, and I'm inspired by the way he not only speaks about the Palestinian struggle but also the beauty and simplicity of life, you know, moments, what a cup of coffee in the morning means to him…

Rappers… There are too many to mention. I mentioned a few earlier, and I also listened to all genres and all generations of rap, but I of course appreciate the ones who have a very strong emphasis on lyricism. Many rappers rap, but not all rappers might really be considered poets.

In addition to that I grew up listening to a lot of reggae music, and then there are Arabic musicians like Abdel Halim Hafez, Sabah Fakhri, Fairouz, Umm Kulthum, and all the old greats as well as the more current artists I love: people like Lynn Adib, TootArd, 47Soul, Dhafer Youssef, Souljah, Zeyne... I could name so many people, but I'll also just have to add Edward Said, of course.

Will the essence of live performance continue to hold the same significance in a world increasingly defined by digital spaces?

I hope so. In fact, I believe it will.

Digital is important — it's an important tool for promotion and even creativity, but to me it can never replace that live interaction and that live expression.

In fact I'll mention one recent example: When I was in Dubai performing, one of my friends brought his father to the show, and his father is well over 70. I noticed they were standing in the audience together watching me, and I have one song called “Close My Eyes” which is a eulogy to my father, may he rest in peace. In that song I just talk about all the lessons that I learned from him and the importance of having that honor and respect for our ancestors and our elders who've transitioned and passed away. And as I was performing the song I noticed my friend was standing side-by-side with his father and hugging him, and I just felt so grateful in that moment because even though I can't hug my father, I can create an experience for others who still appreciate who they have in their lives.