Are Arabs in Michigan Really Prepared to Hand the Presidency Back to Donald Trump? In a Word: Yes.

With its rich, dark wood, golden décor, and an invigorating oud musk, the American Moslem Society on the south end of Dearborn, Michigan, masks its age well. Opened in 1937, it was the first mosque in America to broadcast the call to prayer through loudspeakers. It was founded by Arab immigrants who had initially been drawn by the promise of $5-a-day jobs at a nearby Ford plant, which laid the foundation for what is now America’s largest concentration of Arab Americans.

On a recent Friday there, an imam clad in a traditional white thobe and kufi delivered his sermon. Several hundred worshippers sat on the blue-patterned carpet stretching across the space and listened attentively as the imam evoked scenes of devastation from Israel’s relentless bombardment of Gaza. “True attachment to Allah is demonstrated beautifully by our brothers and sisters in Palestine and in Gaza,” he said. “When they see the dead bodies of family members and they are asked what their message is to the world, they reply, ‘We Belong to Allah, and to him we shall return.’ They know that whoever is truthful with Allah, Allah will never abandon them, even if they are betrayed by all of creation.”

The room was heavy, and clearly emotional. After the prayer, as people retrieved their shoes at the entrance, I overheard discussions of the bombardment of Gaza. I saw people scrolling for news, after earlier reports that Gazans scrambling for aid were shot by the Israeli military. When I spoke to the people around me, it was clear whom they blamed.

“If it came down to Trump and Joe Biden, I will vote for Trump. Because it doesn’t get worse than Joe Biden,” a man named Salah told me. His friend, Amad, added, “Biden was supposed to be the peacemaker. The comfort-maker. Instead, he became accessory to the biggest genocide in modern history.”

Biden had recently overcome an attempt to disrupt the Michigan Democratic primary with “uncommitted” votes tied to the United States’ support for Israel. But in Dearborn and nearby Hamtramck—home to large Arab populations that were part of a coalition that moved Michigan from Donald Trump to Biden in the 2020 presidential election—Biden lost. And the people here made clear they plan to bring the fight to November.

“We want to show a shift from the 2020 election to 2024. That they are not only losing the presidency, but they are losing the constituency,” Salah told me. Nearby, a man named Mohamed looked visibly distressed as he exited the mosque. “I’m ashamed to be American today,” he said, holding back his tears at the latest news out of Gaza, in which everyone I spoke to said the United States was complicit. Mohamed said he cast his ballot for Trump in the primary and would again in the general.

The anger toward Biden in Dearborn is intense and tangible. Though his administration and 2024 campaign seem to have begun to recognize the extent of the threat, they may be too late. Michigan is one of a handful of states likely to decide the U.S. presidential election, and it could be a crucial tipping point in Biden’s path to winning the Electoral College. The “uncommitted” campaign in the primary may have been a mere warning shot from the 300,000 Arab American voters here, who are far from a monolith but have been largely united on this issue, and who have considerable electoral power, especially given Biden’s weaknesses with other Michigan voters. In 2020, Biden surpassed Trump in Michigan by a margin of only 154,000 votes. He currently trails the former president in most polls.

You might wonder: How could an Arab American—much less a Muslim—not want to defeat Trump? Did they forget “Islam hates us”? Did they forget the Muslim ban, the mass deportations, the relentless bigotry? I’ve asked this of myself and my own family, as when, in the course of my reporting this article, a relative made a startling admission at the dinner table. I’ve now come to understand the incandescent rage many feel toward Biden. And in Dearborn, I heard a lot more than distaste for him. I heard many who fully believe that Donald Trump will fight for them more than Joe Biden—and plan to take that belief to the ballot box in November.

“What do they say? ‘What are they going to do, vote for the guy that banned Arabs?’ And the answer is yes,” Amer Zahr, a Palestinian American comedian and Dearborn local, told me at one of the city’s many Yemeni cafés one afternoon. We had both arrived exactly 20 minutes late, matching each other’s tardiness, and he spent the early part of the meeting jokingly insulting the cuisine in Egypt, where my parents are from. Then he got down to it.

He noted with obvious disdain how Biden clumsily waved off dwindling support among Arab Americans, suggesting they will eventually be forced to rally behind him or otherwise risk helping Trump. “The former president wants to put a ban on Arabs coming into the country,” Biden had said. “We’ll make sure—we understand who cares about the Arab population.”

“Imagine thinking it’s a good argument to say to a community that has lost 30,000 people, ‘Watch out for the guy that’s going to ban you.’ You’re really asking me whether I’m going to take a ban or a genocide? I’ll take a ban,” Zahr told me. (The Biden campaign didn’t reply to a request for comment.)

Long before the “uncommitted” vote push, just weeks after Israel declared war in October, a poll conducted by the Arab American Institute showed Arab American support for Biden crater from 59 percent to just 17 percent. My conversation with Zahr got visceral as he explained why.

“I mean, we’ve literally seen our families and our people being thrown into mass graves. Babies blown to bits. It’s not some far-off thing to us,” he said. “It’s been a struggle to declare our own humanity while mourning for our people being massacred.”

In October, he and other local activists in Dearborn organized an emergency community rally for Palestine. That later became the centerpiece of a Wall Street Journal opinion article titled “Welcome to Dearborn, America’s Jihad Capital.” Biden condemned the piece, calling it “exactly what can lead to Islamophobia and anti-Arab hate,” but Zahr told me it was clear from the early days that the United States would support Israel’s retaliation unfettered. Statements of support for the community did nothing.

By the time of the primary, Zahr was helping campaign against Biden. In collaboration with the Dearborn-based Arab American Political Action Committee, he helped send 15,000 mailers to homes in Dearborn requesting people vote anyone but Biden. He told me his principal goal this coming election is only to make sure Biden loses. The primary vote “was the beginning of a process that ends with him losing in November,” he said. “We’ve already cost the Democrats the White House. We know how to do it, OK? And we have a chance to do it this time around. And that’s all I’m interested in,” Zahr said, in reference to Hillary Clinton’s 2016 defeat to Trump. If punishing Biden means helping Trump win the next election, Zahr says, he can live with that.

“If Trump were president right now, this war might’ve been over, because there might have been enough uproar from rank-and-file Democrats,” he said. “I think we have a lot of power in not being wed to a party.”

“I’m anticipating a huge shift in our community switching back to the Republican Party,” said Abed Hammoud, a founding member of the Arab American Political Action Committee. He remembers feeling like a pariah for being a Democrat in the early 2000s, when an estimated 72 percent of the Arab American vote went to the Republican candidate, George W. Bush. But after 9/11, with the rise of the “war on terror” and the vilification of Arab American communities, Hammoud helped to shift the tide of voters away from Republicans. It was largely successful. Now, Hammoud says, the pendulum could swing again in favor of Republicans.

“They took us for granted,” Hammoud said. “The problem is the stand we are asking Biden to take is not even political. It’s humanitarian.” He lamented the irony of Democratic messaging on human rights next to the party’s policy appearing to be complicit in the destruction of civilian life in Gaza. “I try not to sound extreme when I talk about these things, but there’s no other way to describe it other than encouraging killing. There’s no way around it. You can’t say he’s just watching. He is encouraging it.”

But what about Trump? I asked Hammoud. How does he square support for someone who was widely seen as favorable to the Israeli government? “Biden is deeply committed to Zionism, a true believer, not acting on the whims of some lobby. That scares me a lot more,” Hammoud said. On this front, he says, he prefers someone like Trump. “Let’s assume my nonvote for Biden is a vote for Trump automatically. That indirect vote for Trump brings a guy into office who I don’t know what he will do. At the worst, he will be nasty toward us here, like he was in the past. And we can fight him within the law. I cannot fight Joe Biden when he stands with Israel,” he said.

In Hammoud’s view, Biden’s chance to win Michigan has evaporated. Though he is a lifelong Democrat, he said there’s no chance he will go back. “I’ll take my chances with Trump, hoping that something is going to give and something will go sideways and then all of a sudden Trump, Trump will fight Netanyahu. That’s why I am willing to take that risk today. Trump doesn’t scare me,” he said.

Dearborn is run by a Democrat. Mayor Abdullah Hammoud, the son of Lebanese immigrants, only just turned 34. He is the first Muslim leader of the city. Not long ago, he went on television and said, “We have survived the Trump presidency four years ago, and I’m not blind to what is being said by Trump and other Republican candidates at the podium. But as it pertains to the decisions being made overseas, it seems like there is no real difference between former President Trump and current President Biden.”

He is a quintessential local son. Inside his office, he has displayed little tokens like an encased Detroit Lions–branded football, a lacrosse helmet, a folded and framed American flag, and a few keepsakes from his historic campaign in 2022. When we met, Hammoud seemed a little exhausted at the media crush that had led up to the Michigan primary. But he also did not hold back. “The president should withdraw his support from the war tyrant and war criminal Benjamin Netanyahu if he wants to save our American democracy from unraveling with a reelection of Donald Trump,” he told me. “This is not a Muslim issue. This is an American issue.” Hammoud has not decided whether to support Biden in the fall.

He reclined in his chair, fingers touching his chin, as he described why this distant war had become so impossible for people here to ignore. “I have a resident who lost over 80 family members, all killed by American-made bombs and weapons,” he said. “There’s no way [Biden] is going to win back this individual in November.”

How does that stance work for a hopeful rising star in the Democratic Party? “Trump is an atrocity himself. And if you look at Trump’s foreign policy decisionmaking, it’s just as disastrous as Joe Biden’s,” Hammoud conceded. “Trump recognized illegal settlements in the West Bank, moved and recognized the embassy in Jerusalem, and provided Saudi Arabia with weaponry resulting in the deaths of over 30,000 innocent Yemenis. These are all things people tend to forget about.” Even still, he said, he hears daily from people here who cannot fathom what the government is doing now. “We’re witnessing the loss of two mothers every single hour in Gaza. That’s the reality I’m dealing with. I’m not concerned with the Democratic Party establishment. I’m concerned with my constituents. I have the audacity to put my community first.”

He was more measured about what might be in store for November. “I don’t believe you’re witnessing a mass exodus to the Republican Party,” he said. “It’s more likely a repeat of 2016, where Trump’s victory wasn’t just about the votes he gained but also about the significant number of people who skipped the top of the ticket.

“There’s a segment of the constituency that with the adoption of a permanent cease-fire, a halt in unrestricted U.S. military aid, and steps toward establishing a Palestinian state might reconsider their support for Biden,” he said. “But there’s certainly a portion of the vote that might remain lost, and we should anticipate that.”

In our brief conversation, Hammoud seemed aware some people are ready to take advantage of this moment. I met several of them in Michigan. They all knew the area could be a potential tipping point in the election—if only local Republicans weren’t such a mess.

Stephanie Butler, a local Republican activist, wants to turn “uncommitted” votes into votes for Trump. She called those votes a “a waste.” “You guys are using it as political leverage and saying, ‘Let us show them the power of the Arab vote,’ ” she said. “You’re going to give this maniac two weeks before a general election to call for a cease-fire? Does that bring back the 30,000 lives that have been lost? Who are you proving a lesson to?”

Butler has been a fixture in the community since she successfully helped corral Arab Americans into protesting sexual material in public schools and libraries. But she admits that Republicans don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to courting Arab and Muslim votes, partly because in Michigan, they’ve been especially exclusionary. “It is literally religious fanatics. I’m Catholic Christian, and they don’t even like me. You have to be an evangelist, the crazy type, to fit into their clique. And I’m not that. They’re constantly quoting Bible verses and this and that. These people are insane,” she said, describing the Michigan Republican convention. But she said the power of some GOP messaging is evident in the book-ban fracas that briefly rocked Dearborn. She’s trying to convince more Republicans to take advantage of that.

Rola Makki, the first hijab-wearing elected Michigan GOP outreach official, blamed Dearborn itself for Republicans’ troubles there since 9/11. “The Republican presence is not that great in the city because they’re not welcoming to the Republican Party. It’s a two-way street. It feels like that could change in the near future. I believe it’s already changed.”

She downplayed the party’s obvious Islamophobia problem as exaggerated by the media: “Our enemy is not each other. It’s not Democrats vs. Republicans. It’s really the media at the end of the day because they are the ones that are spreading the hate and lies.”

Hassan Nehme, a Republican official running for Congress in Rashida Tlaib’s district, has also been working behind the scenes to move Arab voters to the right, as he himself had after joining the Army in 2012. He says Islamophobia has been an issue in the state’s Republican Party, and that at times he doesn’t feel welcome, but he chalks it up to an education issue. “It’s like they’ve never sat with an actual Muslim or an Arab American and actually had a conversation,” he said. But he quickly pointed to Trump’s appointment of him, a Muslim, as a state delegate as a sign of progress.

“A lot more people are switching sides now,” he said. “I’ve only spoken to three people in the last four or five months who still support Joe Biden. Honestly. Even with Democrats that I go back and forth with all the time. On Biden, everyone agrees.”

“It’s depressing to think of our community as being so selfish,” said Saladin Ahmed, 48, a well-known comic book artist who has seen Dearborn grow and change over the years. He was venting his frustrations not long after the “uncommitted” movement had its moment in the primary.

Ahmed is accomplished in his field, most known for his work with Marvel comics for big characters like Miles Morales: Spider-Man, The Magnificent Ms. Marvel, and Black Bolt. He was heavily influenced by his great-grandmother, who was part of Malcolm X’s spiritual journey and the spread of Islam in the country. His father, too, a local radio personality, instilled in him the importance of understanding various struggles, not just those of the Arab American community. “You’re willing to put someone who there’s no question will be a worse president for Black people than Joe Biden is. He is going to be worse for more people. Things are going to be worse for students, for workers, for gay people, for women—that difference matters,” he said.

We met for dinner, and he barely touched his food while he tried to explain exactly how worried he is about Trump. The small differences between candidates may seem insignificant to some, he said, but he believes four more years of Trump will have tangible consequences for real people. “One of their neighbors is going to not be able to make rent because of this fucking decision. Your kid’s art program at school is going to close because of this shit. And people feel so righteous. That’s the part that bothers me. The world as a whole matters,” he said. His children are half-Black, and one is trans; he doesn’t understand how no one can see what another Trump presidency would bring.

Few have seen Dearborn change like Ahmed. He was born in 1975 after his family had already been in America for several generations. They were among the first of Arab descent to settle in Michigan in the early 1900s. He remembers what it was like to grow up in a segregated Dearborn, in which an Arab minority lived in the more industrial south end. He recalls a time when a former mayor, Michael Guido, clashed with the growing Arab population and campaigned using anti-Arab stereotypes.

“Previous generations of Arab activists understood this. They didn’t see Palestine in a vacuum. They saw it as part of an international struggle. So, deciding everything else has to come to a stop to make this thing that isn’t going to change anything policy wise—it’s a literal objective fact that Donald Trump’s proposed notions for Palestine are worse than Biden’s. Which is hard to do,” he said.

Even so, he said the activism he has seen surge through Dearborn has been inspiring, in a way. “It’s surprising and impressive,” he said. “I think if it were handled differently, I’d say this is exactly the kind of thing Michigan needs. It’s one state where people who care about Palestinian lives can have a voice. But taking it far enough to support Trump to try and derail Biden in November is wild to me.”

The truth is Ahmed was one of the only Arabs I could find in Dearborn who openly admitted they actually planned to vote for Biden in November. I spent much of my time there immersed in the city’s café culture, and the more I talked to people, the more I saw the full extent of what was happening in Dearborn.

Qahwah House is one of the city’s jewels, open late and often packed. There I met Maryam, who was seated alone across a kettle filled with Turkish coffee. She told me she found the uncommitted voters “annoying”—but not because they voted against Biden. “If you can vote, you really should,” she said, noting she was a recent immigrant who couldn’t yet. I asked her whom she would be supporting if she could, and she confidently told me it would be Trump. “I don’t get why people hate him. My cousins say it’s because he hates Arabs. But nobody likes Arabs in this country.”

I heard a similar sentiment from another patron, Fares, a Palestinian man who became a U.S. citizen 20 years ago, and voted for Biden in 2020. “I feel like, whether Republicans or Democrats, it’s all the same,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going to vote for any because it doesn’t matter.” It’s a major shift for him. He was born in Syria to parents exiled in 1948 from what is now Haifa. He told me he hadn’t missed a presidential election before, but now he doesn’t see a point. “If 12,000 dead kids don’t change their hearts, you think you or I will?”

I did manage to find one person who voted for Biden in the primary, a student named Shreya. But she’s already starting to change her mind. “I’m thinking about it now, and I’m not sure I want to vote anymore,” she said. “We only have bad options. And now I’m thinking uncommitted is a better option too. I can’t support what’s going on with Palestine,” she said. “The easiest choice now feels like voting uncommitted.”

I began to think the Dearborn mayor was onto something. Most people I spoke to said they thought it was at least worth trying Trump again if Biden was the other option—but many said they simply wouldn’t vote for anyone at all.

The genesis of the grassroots “uncommitted” vote movement, which has since traveled to other states, was in Dearborn just weeks before the Michigan primary. In early February, the idea was sparked by a group of young activists determined to pressure Biden into changing course on Gaza. From these discussions emerged Listen to Michigan, a campaign aimed at diverting disillusioned voters away from Biden. At the forefront of this movement is Layla Elabed, the group’s campaign manager and the younger sister of Rep. Rashida Tlaib.

In a conversation at Qahwah House, Elabed seemed tired. It had become obvious to her she could no longer support Biden, and she didn’t see why that was so hard to understand. “It is hard for me to reconcile my core beliefs and morals to support a president that dehumanizes my people,” Elabed said. “This is a president that I met in person. That knows my sister. That met my mom, who wore a traditional Palestinian thobe at the White House.”

Nobody from Biden’s campaign has reached out to Listen to Michigan, Elabed said, but she believes she’s doing it a favor. “We are literally handing the Democratic Party and President Biden a gift to say we’re months away from November, and you have a chance to change course right now and stop the alienation of your core constituency,” Elabed said.

Back home in New Jersey, not long after my time in Dearborn, I confronted this head-on myself. “Under no circumstance could any of us vote for Joe Biden,” a relative suddenly said at dinner one night. “How could anyone vote for someone with this much blood on his hands?”

I posed the obvious question, asking if she thought Trump would be better. “What’s worse than genocide?” she retorted. “Maybe if the Democrats lose this election, they’ll learn their lesson. I’m happy to take several steps back if that’s what it takes to take a step forward.” When I argued, I got thousand-yard stares.

I thought back to my conversation with Elabed, who seemed a little horrified that many seemed content to restore Trump to the White House. “I tell people all the time, I’m like, ‘What are you guys talking about? There’s literally an illegal settlement called Trump Heights.’ Even my own family members. I have to remind them, because they’re like ‘Trump 2024!’ And I’m like, ‘Are you crazy?’ ” But she arrived back to the same place the conversation did at my dinner table that night with my relatives—that nothing can matter as much as what she believes America is enabling in Gaza. “Right now, it seems like it won’t matter if it’s Biden or Trump. We are going to have the same outcome when it comes to Palestine,” she said.