10 Ways to Be Arab in Dearborn (Actually, Just 5—but They Hit Hard)

Welcome to Dearborn, the only city where you can buy grape leaves at a gas station, get a Quran with your car wash, and witness six generations of trauma triggered by a missing side of toum. But how do you truly become Arab in Dearborn? Not by birth, but by behavior. We’ve distilled the top five commandments of cultural immersion—Dearborn style.

1. Drive a $120K Car but Ask for Extra Garlic Sauce “On the House”

You’re not authentically Dearborn Arab unless your financial decisions are in complete opposition to common sense. Financing a car worth more than your father’s dowry budget? Yes. Tipping? Absolutely not.

You whip into the parking lot in your AMG, stroll into the shawarma joint, and when they ask if you want extra garlic, your eye twitches. You pause. You lower your voice like you’re sharing nuclear secrets:

That’s not garlic—it’s principle. You will Venmo your cousin $500 for a made-up crypto coin but God forbid you pay $0.75 for extra sauce. That’s where you draw the line. That’s your cultural boundary.

2. Turn Your Front Lawn into a Cultural Billboard

Being Arab in Dearborn means transforming your house into a 24/7 LED-powered display of cultural confusion. We’re talking fiberglass lions flanking the porch like they’re guarding the tomb of Saladin. Flags for countries you haven’t visited since your uncle’s deportation. A trampoline. Solar-powered Qur’an reciters. A “Free Palestine” mural next to a massive inflatable crescent moon that lights up in July.

Your American neighbor mows his lawn and waters his plants. You just plug in 16 things from Amazon and hope for divine landscaping. Bonus points if your ring camera sends you 600 motion alerts a day because your porch looks like the entrance to an embassy.

3. Say “Back Home” Like You Left Yesterday—Even If You Were Born at Beaumont

Every sentence begins with:

The problem? You’ve never been back home. You were born in Michigan, went to Dearborn High, and your only cultural trauma is when they stopped carrying Vimto at Meijer.

Still, you talk about “back home” with the gravitas of a war general. “Back home, we don’t do Halloween.” “Back home, our bread is rounder.” “Back home, our coffee doesn’t taste like shampoo.”

Your version of “back home” is a 2016 trip to Jordan where you spent most of the time trying not to get sunburned and arguing with taxi drivers about the meter. But go ahead, tell us more about the ancient family traditions you learned on YouTube the night before Ramadan.

4. Open a Business That’s Open 4 Hours a Week

No one hustles like an Arab in Dearborn. And by hustle, we mean a highly aesthetic, perpetually unavailable storefront. You open a boutique called “Adan & Oud: Perfume & Empanadas.” It’s only open after Asr prayer and before your cousin’s engagement party.

The vibe? Instagrammable. The hours? Untraceable.

Your business page says, “Open daily.” Reality says, “Closed due to supplier issues (aka, your cousin flaked).” And yet, you post boomerangs of iced karak tea on velvet cushions like it’s a Fortune 500 lounge.

Business isn’t about profit—it’s about prestige. It’s the new-age cultural flex. Who needs revenue when you have a neon sign that says “Yalla Habibi”?

5. Casually Drop Your Family Name Like It’s a Grammy Nomination

Your resume? Irrelevant. Your job? Forgettable. But your family tree? Ohhh, that’s the main event.

You don’t meet people in Dearborn—you trace them. “What’s your last name?” turns into a full-blown interrogation about your bloodline. If you can’t triangulate your lineage back to at least three village feuds and a marriage proposal gone wrong in 1998, you’re nobody.

Somehow, your whole identity boils down to who insulted whom at what graduation party, and if your great-aunt once shared a cab with their neighbor’s dog walker’s cousin.

Final Thought: Arabness in Dearborn Is a Lifestyle, Not a Location

You don’t just live in Dearborn. You perform it. Loudly. Lavishly. Occasionally illegally. It’s a hyperlocal reality show starring you, your ego, and the ghost of your grandfather’s homeland.

Whether you’re peeling out of the gas station in your leased Escalade while sipping Turkish coffee, or throwing a culturally inappropriate gender reveal that ends in fireworks and a noise complaint—congrats. You’ve made it.

You’re officially Arab in Dearborn.