The newspaper was, as always, folded in half and available for free at the entrance to the many oriental restaurants lining the avenues to the east and west of Detroit. The Arab American News. Grabbing a copy, sitting down on the leatherette seats, ordering ogdat – a delicious Yemeni stew – or lentil soup when the cold sets in, and flipping through the pages of both local and faraway news beneath the overly bright neon lights is all part of the flavors and habits of Michigan's largest city and its surroundings.

This is the home of the largest Arab and Muslim community in the United States. This is where, over the past 40 years, amid invasions and various American wars in the Near and Middle East, Lebanese, Palestinians, Yemenis, Iraqis, Afghans and Syrians have come to breathe new life into the rust and abandonment where the lands once iconic of Henry Ford were sinking.

In early November, a month had passed since the violent Hamas attack and hostage-taking in Israel. Intensive Israeli bombing in Gaza has plunged many Palestinian-American families into anguish, and then, increasingly, into mourning.

Tens of thousands have been wounded and killed there, to the extent that, one day, it's the brother, daughter, or cousin who was affected. What's more, they're being killed by an army that is substantially equipped and funded by the United States. The front page of The Arab American News exploded with the slogan: "Abandon Biden." Anger has taken on an electoral weapon, one year before the presidential election.

However, those who read from right to left and in Arabic reverse the newspaper and come across another front page: A photo of Gaza in ruins, bearing a headline that simply reads "No respite. Netanyahu rejects ceasefire." The Arab American News is double-headed. It's written in two alphabets. It speaks to voters and non-voters alike. It speaks to those who immerse themselves in American society and to those who remain closer to their traditions. To those who watch American channels and to those who are tuned into the narratives of Arab channels such as Al-Jazeera and Al-Mayadeen.

Its readers don't necessarily understand the newspaper's other side. At its midpoint, on page 14, the two languages come together. "This is the only place where Arabic and English meet. Otherwise, they never meet," explained Osama Siblani with a smile.

He founded the weekly newspaper and met us on the second floor of the paper's headquarters, on Ford Road, in Dearborn, a neighboring town to the west of Detroit. The spacious room features an imposing varnished wood table, two long leather sofas and a few armchairs. This is the newsroom. Due to the team's post-Covid downsizing to six employees who now work from home, this is first and foremost Siblani's office.

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