NYC’s Green Gamble: Mamdani Taps Shimamura Amid Budget Showdown

Paul Riverbank, 1/18/2026Tricia Shimamura becomes Parks Commissioner as NYC faces crucial budget fight over green space funding.

Not many might’ve seen this coming, but Mamdani’s announcement landed with a kind of understated weight: Tricia Shimamura would step into the job as the city's next Parks Commissioner. If folks expected ceremony, they found something humbler, perhaps more honest. “She is an incredible New Yorker with a deep record of public service and a long-standing commitment to fighting for working people,” Mamdani said, voice nearly lost to the wind. His nods toward her history—her time as a policy aide, her efforts in social work, her more recent stint managing Manhattan's patchwork of playgrounds and dog runs—felt less like résumé padding, more like a quiet catalog of steady grit.

Now, New York’s Parks Department is hardly an agency that flits in and out of headlines. Its sprawl is everywhere and somehow nowhere—shaded benches along the boulevards, crowded seesaws in Queens, the frantic clatter of dominoes echoing across beds of crabgrass. Whether you’re cramming in a run before work or escaping to a quiet patch near Pelham Bay, eventually you feel the city's green touch. For some families, these parks really are the backyard—the only one they’ll ever have.

Shimamera, whose roots reach Tokyo and Puerto Rico, had something to say about that. Parks, she said, were never just pockets of green—they’re “the official backyard of New York City families.” She comes from the kind of background that doesn’t fade under the pressure of bureaucracy. Student organizing at Columbia, wrangling for voter rights, fielding urgent calls during the pandemic—each of these left her, as one longtime staffer muttered, “pretty well steeled.” She’d run and lost a City Council race. Instead of vanishing, she threw herself into the tricky business of keeping parks ticking through empty budgets and neighborhood squabbles.

That’s where, as one father waiting to push his kid on a swing told me, “you figure out who wants parkland and who wants a parking lot.” The day she took over Manhattan’s parks—well, she reported later, the job didn’t care much for optimism but demanded a certain realism. Ideas, budgets, and voices—they all crash together under the playgrounds' noisy shade.

She’s taking the baton from Iris Rodriguez-Rosa, for whom superlatives can’t quite stretch far enough. After four decades, Rodriguez-Rosa remains a legend among staffers and regulars alike: the first Latina to steer the department, known not for grandstanding but for making sure—despite waves of cuts and false dawns—playgrounds got painted, ballfields re-sodded, bathrooms kept (mostly) open. “Parks must never be an afterthought,” was her refrain, repeated like a prayer or stubborn charm against indifference.

For years, as city budgets ballooned, the Parks allocation has flatlined: 0.6 percent of a $117 billion budget. You’d be forgiven for thinking the figure was a typo. The mayor, who mixes references to Olmsted—Central Park’s father—and rapper MC Shan with equal ease, seems set on boosting that slice to at least 1 percent. “For too long, our parks have been neglected and underfunded—first on the chopping block, last to see new money,” Mamdani said, while city employees tried not to freeze. Depending on who you ask, dreams for lush lawns and safe playgrounds will either thrive or perish on how he manages that first budget fight.

Still, on the playground, most kids seemed considerably more invested in who got the next turn on the slide than in administrative succession. Shimamura herself brushed off the formality—a shrug, a quick grin, and then she was deep in conversation about skate parks with a couple of teenagers. Maybe this is what makes New York tick along through commissioner changes and cold snaps—small exchanges that never make it to press releases.

Of course, rumors drift. Some online, suspicious by habit, questioned priorities or wondered aloud about cronyism—“just another City Hall pick,” as one anonymous post grumbled. But for the families gathered that day, these weren’t the questions echoing across the frosted lawn.

It’s hard to wrap up a story that doesn’t want tidiness. As dusk tugged at the light, one mother zipped up her daughter’s jacket, pointed at the swirling snow, and said quietly, “This is why we need these places. Just somewhere to breathe for a while.” You could almost miss it, but this—more than any line in a speech or policy memo—is perhaps what’s at stake. Shimamura’s challenge, now, is whether she can make every pocket of green in this sprawling, untidy city truly feel like home—a place where, season after season, the work of care begins anew.

By sunrise, a pale layer of snow had smoothed over Highbridge Park—it muffled even the distant thud of a city waking up. Standing at the edge of the Harlem River, Mayor Zohran Mamdani huddled in his scarf, cheeks flushed. The morning was raw, and somehow that felt fitting. There weren’t any grand stages or spotlights—just the makeshift podium, the buzzing park lights, and a clutch of New Yorkers with steaming coffee and hands jammed in coat pockets.Not many might’ve seen this coming, but Mamdani’s announcement landed with a kind of understated weight: Tricia Shimamura would step into the job as the city's next Parks Commissioner. If folks expected ceremony, they found something humbler, perhaps more honest. “She is an incredible New Yorker with a deep record of public service and a long-standing commitment to fighting for working people,” Mamdani said, voice nearly lost to the wind. His nods toward her history—her time as a policy aide, her efforts in social work, her more recent stint managing Manhattan's patchwork of playgrounds and dog runs—felt less like résumé padding, more like a quiet catalog of steady grit.Now, New York’s Parks Department is hardly an agency that flits in and out of headlines. Its sprawl is everywhere and somehow nowhere—shaded benches along the boulevards, crowded seesaws in Queens, the frantic clatter of dominoes echoing across beds of crabgrass. Whether you’re cramming in a run before work or escaping to a quiet patch near Pelham Bay, eventually you feel the city's green touch. For some families, these parks really are the backyard—the only one they’ll ever have.Shimamera, whose roots reach Tokyo and Puerto Rico, had something to say about that. Parks, she said, were never just pockets of green—they’re “the official backyard of New York City families.” She comes from the kind of background that doesn’t fade under the pressure of bureaucracy. Student organizing at Columbia, wrangling for voter rights, fielding urgent calls during the pandemic—each of these left her, as one longtime staffer muttered, “pretty well steeled.” She’d run and lost a City Council race. Instead of vanishing, she threw herself into the tricky business of keeping parks ticking through empty budgets and neighborhood squabbles.That’s where, as one father waiting to push his kid on a swing told me, “you figure out who wants parkland and who wants a parking lot.” The day she took over Manhattan’s parks—well, she reported later, the job didn’t care much for optimism but demanded a certain realism. Ideas, budgets, and voices—they all crash together under the playgrounds' noisy shade.She’s taking the baton from Iris Rodriguez-Rosa, for whom superlatives can’t quite stretch far enough. After four decades, Rodriguez-Rosa remains a legend among staffers and regulars alike: the first Latina to steer the department, known not for grandstanding but for making sure—despite waves of cuts and false dawns—playgrounds got painted, ballfields re-sodded, bathrooms kept (mostly) open. “Parks must never be an afterthought,” was her refrain, repeated like a prayer or stubborn charm against indifference.For years, as city budgets ballooned, the Parks allocation has flatlined: 0.6 percent of a $117 billion budget. You’d be forgiven for thinking the figure was a typo. The mayor, who mixes references to Olmsted—Central Park’s father—and rapper MC Shan with equal ease, seems set on boosting that slice to at least 1 percent. “For too long, our parks have been neglected and underfunded—first on the chopping block, last to see new money,” Mamdani said, while city employees tried not to freeze. Depending on who you ask, dreams for lush lawns and safe playgrounds will either thrive or perish on how he manages that first budget fight.Still, on the playground, most kids seemed considerably more invested in who got the next turn on the slide than in administrative succession. Shimamura herself brushed off the formality—a shrug, a quick grin, and then she was deep in conversation about skate parks with a couple of teenagers. Maybe this is what makes New York tick along through commissioner changes and cold snaps—small exchanges that never make it to press releases.Of course, rumors drift. Some online, suspicious by habit, questioned priorities or wondered aloud about cronyism—“just another City Hall pick,” as one anonymous post grumbled. But for the families gathered that day, these weren’t the questions echoing across the frosted lawn.It’s hard to wrap up a story that doesn’t want tidiness. As dusk tugged at the light, one mother zipped up her daughter’s jacket, pointed at the swirling snow, and said quietly, “This is why we need these places. Just somewhere to breathe for a while.” You could almost miss it, but this—more than any line in a speech or policy memo—is perhaps what’s at stake. Shimamura’s challenge, now, is whether she can make every pocket of green in this sprawling, untidy city truly feel like home—a place where, season after season, the work of care begins anew.