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Muslims of the Heartland: How Syrian Immigrants Made a Home in the American Midwest
Uncovers the surprising history of Muslim life in the early American Midwest
The American Midwest is often thought of as uniformly white, and shaped exclusively by Christian values. However, this view of the region as an unvarying landscape fails to consider a significant community at its very heart. Muslims of the Heartland uncovers the long history of Muslims in a part of the country where many readers would not expect to find them.
Edward E. Curtis IV, a descendant of Syrian Midwesterners, vividly portrays the intrepid men and women who busted sod on the short-grass prairies of the Dakotas, peddled needles and lace on the streets of Cedar Rapids, and worked in the railroad car factories of Michigan City. This intimate portrait follows the stories of individuals such as farmer Mary Juma, pacifist Kassem Rameden, poet Aliya Hassen, and bookmaker Kamel Osman from the early 1900s through World War I, the Roaring 20s, the Great Depression, and World War II. Its story-driven approach places Syrian Americans at the center of key American institutions like the assembly line, the family farm, the dance hall, and the public school, showing how the first two generations of Midwestern Syrians created a life that was Arab, Muslim, and American, all at the same time.
Muslims of the Heartland recreates what the Syrian Muslim Midwest looked, sounded, felt, and smelled like―from the allspice-seasoned lamb and rice shared in mosque basements to the sound of the trains on the Rock Island Line rolling past the dry goods store. It recovers a multicultural history of the American Midwest that cannot be ignored.
The American Midwest is often thought of as uniformly white, and shaped exclusively by Christian values. However, this view of the region as an unvarying landscape fails to consider a significant community at its very heart. Muslims of the Heartland uncovers the long history of Muslims in a part of the country where many readers would not expect to find them.
Edward E. Curtis IV, a descendant of Syrian Midwesterners, vividly portrays the intrepid men and women who busted sod on the short-grass prairies of the Dakotas, peddled needles and lace on the streets of Cedar Rapids, and worked in the railroad car factories of Michigan City. This intimate portrait follows the stories of individuals such as farmer Mary Juma, pacifist Kassem Rameden, poet Aliya Hassen, and bookmaker Kamel Osman from the early 1900s through World War I, the Roaring 20s, the Great Depression, and World War II. Its story-driven approach places Syrian Americans at the center of key American institutions like the assembly line, the family farm, the dance hall, and the public school, showing how the first two generations of Midwestern Syrians created a life that was Arab, Muslim, and American, all at the same time.
Muslims of the Heartland recreates what the Syrian Muslim Midwest looked, sounded, felt, and smelled like―from the allspice-seasoned lamb and rice shared in mosque basements to the sound of the trains on the Rock Island Line rolling past the dry goods store. It recovers a multicultural history of the American Midwest that cannot be ignored.
256 pages, Hardcover
Published February 15, 2022
8 people are currently reading
180 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
May 10, 2022
This book is for a particular crowd. As a sporadic reader, which feels the need to dive into specific genres like a madwoman on a mission, I was in my phase of historical accounts. This is a fascinating read that maps the expanse of Syrian-American history through the heart of the US.
This is always important due to cultural and racial rhetoric at large. It is essential to understand where others have mapped as their home and where we intersect as people.
It is not a casual read, but it is interesting.
This is always important due to cultural and racial rhetoric at large. It is essential to understand where others have mapped as their home and where we intersect as people.
It is not a casual read, but it is interesting.
March 9, 2022
I chose this book in my ongoing quest into learning about different cultures. What drew me to this one was the title & the cover. I was raised in the Midwest and just driving through my birth city of Chicago, we would see first hand the multitude of nationalities and cultures represented. Reading the author’s account of what his family and fellow Syrians went through to establish themselves more than a century ago was eye opening and so very interesting. History and culture enthusiasts should read this book.
May 1, 2025
Curtis does a great job detailing the origins of the Midwestern Syrian community and some of the earliest organized Muslim spaces in America. I particularly like his take on the ethnic congregation being a quintessential American and Midwestern formation.
October 4, 2022
Rating: 3.5
We Midwesterners have become invisible to ourselves.
Among North Dakota transplants, there’s a phrase you hear, “North Dakota so white,” and when it’s said, there’s a certain meaning to it. You could say, “North Dakota is so Scandinavian,” “North Dakota is so Christian,” “North Dakota is so Lutheran,” and you would say the same thing as saying, “North Dakota so white.” But we know that Whiteness is constructed, often as European, typically British, but possibly Scandinavian if you’re in a certain place or of a certain background. Whiteness, as Curtis mentions, can be Syrian, something we Americans tend to think of as Middle Eastern, as Arab. We don’t think of Muslims in the heartland. We don’t think of Muslims as American, particularly in a post-9/11 world. And yet, who was here, colonizing the so called New World alongside White Lutherans? Who was building mosques and Muslim community centers kitty-corner from Christian churches and Scandinavian centers? What was on the table next to lefse? To speak of the Midwest, to discuss middle America, to discuss the roots of this country at all, requires a global tongue and a wide mind. Curtis encourages us to meet ourselves and builds research well and compellingly. Unfortunately, the book on a product level was fairly disappointing and made the text significantly less accessible. Overall, the text of this book deserved a lot more but it shines well despite the obstacles.
We Midwesterners have become invisible to ourselves.
Among North Dakota transplants, there’s a phrase you hear, “North Dakota so white,” and when it’s said, there’s a certain meaning to it. You could say, “North Dakota is so Scandinavian,” “North Dakota is so Christian,” “North Dakota is so Lutheran,” and you would say the same thing as saying, “North Dakota so white.” But we know that Whiteness is constructed, often as European, typically British, but possibly Scandinavian if you’re in a certain place or of a certain background. Whiteness, as Curtis mentions, can be Syrian, something we Americans tend to think of as Middle Eastern, as Arab. We don’t think of Muslims in the heartland. We don’t think of Muslims as American, particularly in a post-9/11 world. And yet, who was here, colonizing the so called New World alongside White Lutherans? Who was building mosques and Muslim community centers kitty-corner from Christian churches and Scandinavian centers? What was on the table next to lefse? To speak of the Midwest, to discuss middle America, to discuss the roots of this country at all, requires a global tongue and a wide mind. Curtis encourages us to meet ourselves and builds research well and compellingly. Unfortunately, the book on a product level was fairly disappointing and made the text significantly less accessible. Overall, the text of this book deserved a lot more but it shines well despite the obstacles.
November 16, 2023
Required reflection for REL 771 of this reading:Edward E. Curtis IV, in his Muslims of the Heartland, offered up an alternative “Americanness” that is more often not, largely ignored for the one-sided “whiteness” that “America” is usually equated with. Through a personal lens, Curtis wrote an account of how being “American” is not the equivalent of being Judeo-Christian and white, but instead that being “American” ought to be seen as much more inclusive. Curtis offered up interesting chronological and historical context as evidentiary prose to his claim, tying his own roots into the Muslim and Arab foundation of being “American”. Through his arguments, he calls for an acknowledgment of Muslims, Syrians, Arabs, and all other subcultures of “American” to be considered in the equation of all that is “American”. Through his rhetoric, he portrays the midwest, as we know it today, as a direct result of Syrian American labor, tradition, and history. Ultimately, Curtis called for a recognition of the multicultural foundations of the United States of America, citing that throughout the history of our nation, Syrian Americans have contributed to our society unwaveringly, and ought to be acknowledged for such. However, Curtis is also calling for an acknowledgment of the historical roots of religious diversity in the United States, citing that the religious sphere of this country has always been diverse.
Curtis treks through his own family’s immigration to the United States, dating back to the beginning of the twentieth century, paying careful attention to the tone of religious diversity that had accompanied his family. He recounted that his grandmother had greatly contributed to his notion of religious diversity always being the case through his time spent with her, and even discussed how the pluralism of Lebanese, Syrian, and Arabian had been an underlying notion in his own family. Curtis uses this same tone from his grandmother’s anecdote of “Oh, honey, there is no difference” regarding pluralism and nationalist identity to investigate the US midwest and heartland (Curtis, 2). This theme is continually underlying every story, example, and tale throughout his book. From the beginning of industrialization to contemporary farming, Curtis argues that Syrian Americans, by the sweat of their brows and the thoughts of their mind, have helped mold this country to what we know it as today. He cites census records, pop culture, military enlistment lists, old periodicals, cemeteries, churches, mosques, and railroads as evidence of Syrian American involvement in developing the US. From the use of the Arabic language itself to surviving times of social upheaval like the Depression, Civil Rights Era, and 9/11, Curtis painted a vivid picture of life in the US for the Syrian American. From produce markets to oil embargos, Curtis offered up a plethora of examples of how the Arab-American community was effected by the very society they helped build. This multicultural, pluralistic concept of the US, according to Curtis, applies even to the midwest, where many people think it applies only to major urban areas. In essence, Curtis is calling for an “unbleaching” of the history and religious narrative of the US, especially the US heartland. He noted that, “The truth is that the Midwest has never been all white and all Christian. Never. We have always spoken different languages and practiced different religions. Indigenous peoples who lived here before and after Africans and Eurasians arrived in the region were and are culturally diverse” (Curtis, 15). Ultimately, Curtis called for a reckoning with the Christian whiteness that is all too often associated with “America”. In his call to action, he argued that only by coming to terms with our multicultural history and roots, can we build a stronger and more loving midwest.
Overall, Curtis was simply writing his own narrative of a perspective that others have written before him. While his lens was distinctively personal, it wasn’t inaccurate. This nation does need a reckoning with it’s multicultural roots regarding our history, religions, infrastructure, legislation, land management, economy, racism, and collective conscious. In each of those respects, Curtis was right. There are lots of narratives that parallel this one. For instance, Anthea Butler, Hannah Nikole Jones, Robert P. Jones, and Vine Deloria Jr. are just a few that we’ve discussed this session who have made very similar claims. They all grappled with the “whiteness” and “Christianness” of “America”, all calling for a reckoning, acknowledgment, and colliding with the real history of the US. This account is very fitting for the time peiod, having been published last year. We are now in a time where more and more scholars are more forthcoming about the ugly side of US history, the actual pluralistic history of the US, and the need to make amends with that narrative, as a whole. This is partly to do with the fact that more and more scholars are not white, middle-class, Christian men. As the demographic consensus of the academy changes, so will too it’s research and publishing. However, I feel that Curtis may have overlooked a few things in his book. While many people consider Missouri the midwest, there is an argument to be made that part of it isn’t. I think the Midwest stops and the South begins at Poplar Bluff. The lowest-lying portion of Missouri then, the bootheel– is part of the South. There’s local lore and legend as to why, but if you look up the 36th parallel and cotton sharecropping, you will know why. This is important to Curtis’s narrative because his great grandfather is buried in Kennett. He even mentioned feeling some sort of kindred spirit when stopping by the cemetery. However, if he would’ve stuck around long enough, he would’ve noticed that likely would’ve stopped after leaving the cemetery. There is no muslim, Arab, Syrian, Lebanese, or otherwise mid-Eastern population in the area for a reason.
Overall, I feel like Curtis deserves a spot in the study of American religious studies for his call to action. These various lenses of people like Curtis, Butler, Jones, etc. are vital to inclusive research into US religious studies, because they’re right. However, I felt like it was a pretty specific read. I lived in the bootheel of Missouri for three decades and never so much as met an Arab, Syrian, Lebanese, or Muslim person. I’ve lived in central Missouri for three years and the same can be said of this community. The closest mosque to the bootheel is Jonesboro, AR and Cape Girardeau, MO. So, while there is a lot of factual information and history in this account, I feel like it was really pertaining more to the northern and central midwest. However, lenses like Curtis’s ought to be considered for the very reason that its still 2023, and people still consider the Midwest to be Christian and white. Our nation does need to reconcile with our own history. I especially like that Curtis considered the Indigenous people of this country and their respective trials and tribulations. However, he also adopted the “America”-US equivalent lingo, which is inaccurate, at best. It really does disregard the rest of the people in America. However, it was a good read.
Curtis treks through his own family’s immigration to the United States, dating back to the beginning of the twentieth century, paying careful attention to the tone of religious diversity that had accompanied his family. He recounted that his grandmother had greatly contributed to his notion of religious diversity always being the case through his time spent with her, and even discussed how the pluralism of Lebanese, Syrian, and Arabian had been an underlying notion in his own family. Curtis uses this same tone from his grandmother’s anecdote of “Oh, honey, there is no difference” regarding pluralism and nationalist identity to investigate the US midwest and heartland (Curtis, 2). This theme is continually underlying every story, example, and tale throughout his book. From the beginning of industrialization to contemporary farming, Curtis argues that Syrian Americans, by the sweat of their brows and the thoughts of their mind, have helped mold this country to what we know it as today. He cites census records, pop culture, military enlistment lists, old periodicals, cemeteries, churches, mosques, and railroads as evidence of Syrian American involvement in developing the US. From the use of the Arabic language itself to surviving times of social upheaval like the Depression, Civil Rights Era, and 9/11, Curtis painted a vivid picture of life in the US for the Syrian American. From produce markets to oil embargos, Curtis offered up a plethora of examples of how the Arab-American community was effected by the very society they helped build. This multicultural, pluralistic concept of the US, according to Curtis, applies even to the midwest, where many people think it applies only to major urban areas. In essence, Curtis is calling for an “unbleaching” of the history and religious narrative of the US, especially the US heartland. He noted that, “The truth is that the Midwest has never been all white and all Christian. Never. We have always spoken different languages and practiced different religions. Indigenous peoples who lived here before and after Africans and Eurasians arrived in the region were and are culturally diverse” (Curtis, 15). Ultimately, Curtis called for a reckoning with the Christian whiteness that is all too often associated with “America”. In his call to action, he argued that only by coming to terms with our multicultural history and roots, can we build a stronger and more loving midwest.
Overall, Curtis was simply writing his own narrative of a perspective that others have written before him. While his lens was distinctively personal, it wasn’t inaccurate. This nation does need a reckoning with it’s multicultural roots regarding our history, religions, infrastructure, legislation, land management, economy, racism, and collective conscious. In each of those respects, Curtis was right. There are lots of narratives that parallel this one. For instance, Anthea Butler, Hannah Nikole Jones, Robert P. Jones, and Vine Deloria Jr. are just a few that we’ve discussed this session who have made very similar claims. They all grappled with the “whiteness” and “Christianness” of “America”, all calling for a reckoning, acknowledgment, and colliding with the real history of the US. This account is very fitting for the time peiod, having been published last year. We are now in a time where more and more scholars are more forthcoming about the ugly side of US history, the actual pluralistic history of the US, and the need to make amends with that narrative, as a whole. This is partly to do with the fact that more and more scholars are not white, middle-class, Christian men. As the demographic consensus of the academy changes, so will too it’s research and publishing. However, I feel that Curtis may have overlooked a few things in his book. While many people consider Missouri the midwest, there is an argument to be made that part of it isn’t. I think the Midwest stops and the South begins at Poplar Bluff. The lowest-lying portion of Missouri then, the bootheel– is part of the South. There’s local lore and legend as to why, but if you look up the 36th parallel and cotton sharecropping, you will know why. This is important to Curtis’s narrative because his great grandfather is buried in Kennett. He even mentioned feeling some sort of kindred spirit when stopping by the cemetery. However, if he would’ve stuck around long enough, he would’ve noticed that likely would’ve stopped after leaving the cemetery. There is no muslim, Arab, Syrian, Lebanese, or otherwise mid-Eastern population in the area for a reason.
Overall, I feel like Curtis deserves a spot in the study of American religious studies for his call to action. These various lenses of people like Curtis, Butler, Jones, etc. are vital to inclusive research into US religious studies, because they’re right. However, I felt like it was a pretty specific read. I lived in the bootheel of Missouri for three decades and never so much as met an Arab, Syrian, Lebanese, or Muslim person. I’ve lived in central Missouri for three years and the same can be said of this community. The closest mosque to the bootheel is Jonesboro, AR and Cape Girardeau, MO. So, while there is a lot of factual information and history in this account, I feel like it was really pertaining more to the northern and central midwest. However, lenses like Curtis’s ought to be considered for the very reason that its still 2023, and people still consider the Midwest to be Christian and white. Our nation does need to reconcile with our own history. I especially like that Curtis considered the Indigenous people of this country and their respective trials and tribulations. However, he also adopted the “America”-US equivalent lingo, which is inaccurate, at best. It really does disregard the rest of the people in America. However, it was a good read.
November 10, 2024
Muslims of the Heartland: How Syrian Immigrants Made a Home in the American Midwest by Edward E. Curtis IV explores the largely untold history of Muslim life in the early American Midwest. Challenging the common perception of the Midwest as a homogenous, Christian region, Curtis presents a rich narrative of Syrian immigrants who built vibrant, enduring communities in states like the Dakotas, Iowa, and Indiana.
Curtis, a descendant of Syrian Midwesterners, shares the stories of remarkable individuals—farmers, factory workers, poets, and pacifists—who navigated cultural and religious differences while contributing to their new homeland. Through the lives of figures like farmer Mary Juma and poet Aliya Hassen, readers see how the early 20th-century Syrian Americans cultivated a unique identity that was at once Arab, Muslim, and distinctly American.
The book’s vivid descriptions, from allspice-scented meals to the rhythm of trains along the Rock Island Line, bring the past to life, highlighting a multicultural legacy that shapes the American Midwest even today.
Curtis, a descendant of Syrian Midwesterners, shares the stories of remarkable individuals—farmers, factory workers, poets, and pacifists—who navigated cultural and religious differences while contributing to their new homeland. Through the lives of figures like farmer Mary Juma and poet Aliya Hassen, readers see how the early 20th-century Syrian Americans cultivated a unique identity that was at once Arab, Muslim, and distinctly American.
The book’s vivid descriptions, from allspice-scented meals to the rhythm of trains along the Rock Island Line, bring the past to life, highlighting a multicultural legacy that shapes the American Midwest even today.
June 2, 2022
Scanned most of it, except Chapter 7- end about Detroit. Very interesting history.
August 29, 2022
Interesting reading about how a community established itself and thrived despite all the prejudice and hardship it faced.
September 30, 2023
I really liked this book and found it interesting! I would love to hear more about the authors family and experiences because I thought the introduction was one of the strongest parts!
May 6, 2025
it was interesting and good. I live in the area it's about, so it was of personal interest to me.
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews