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200 Years Later, Still Trying to Define the Midwest


200 Years Later, Still Trying to Define the Midwest

State fairs. Frozen custard. The jingle for the home-improvement chain Menards. Rolling corn fields, sweatshirts with shorts, steel plant smokestacks and swing-state politics.

But also: Chicago's skyscrapers, vibrant immigrant communities and the revival and reimagining of manufacturing hubs.

For many, the Midwest can best be defined as a collage of images and feelings. Attempts to characterize the region -- through food, pop culture, geography and politics -- go back centuries and are a theme in this year's presidential election. Is it Ohio? Chicago? "Field of Dreams?" Are the Great Plains included?

The question of how to define the region is back in the spotlight in an election year with two Midwestern vice-presidential candidates and a greater focus on its voters.

At the same time, cultural figures, online communities and academics are pushing back on old associations and trying to figure out what makes up the modern Midwest.

The only thing all sides seem to agree on is: The Midwest resists being defined.

In August, Gov. Tim Walz of Minnesota, the Democratic vice-presidential candidate who has happily taken up the mantle of Midwestern dad, sang the catchy jingle for Menards in an interview. To the delight of many online, he has played up his roots: His tater tot hot dish, a Minnesota favorite, has won competitions, he notes. He volunteered at the all-you-can-drink milk booth at the Minnesota State Fair.

And Senator JD Vance of Ohio often talks about being raised by his Mamaw -- "the name we hillbillies gave to our grandmothers," he said in a speech at the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee. He plays up his love of the Ohio State University (emphasis on the) and football.

But some Midwesterners say that focusing on the lighthearted quirks of the region diminishes its true diversity.

The pop star Chappell Roan is one of many cultural figures who are subverting old notions about Midwesterners.

In a music video for her song "Hot to Go!" from the album "The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess," Ms. Roan dances in front of monster trucks, stadium bleachers and a putt-putt course in Springfield, Mo., near her hometown, Willard, Mo. -- with drag queens flanking her.

Ms. Roan frequently melds her identities as a Missouri native and queer woman. During the MTV Video Music Awards in September, Ms. Roan's acceptance speech for the Best New Artist award was shared widely after she gave a shout out to "all the queer kids in the Midwest."

Others lean into tradition: Kid Rock, a Detroit native who performed at the R.N.C., casts himself as a representative of the blue-collar workers increasingly voting Republican.

Many say it is past time for a reckoning with the racism of excluding Black, Latino and immigrant communities from the outdated definitions of the Midwest.

The Black Midwest Initiative, a collective of academics and students, was started at the University of Illinois Chicago after the 2016 election to "counter underrecognition of Black Midwesterners." Part of its work is about rethreading stories of Black people into the broader regional narrative.

"Detroit doesn't fit the mythology, the Dorothy-from-Kansas kind of narrative of cornfields and pigs and conservative voters," said Terrion Williamson, the director of the initiative and a professor at the university.

In recent decades, immigrant enclaves across the Midwest have made it ever more culturally diverse.

In Dearborn, Mich., large Arab American communities have made headlines as many residents there call for an end to the war in Gaza. There is Minneapolis, which has a large Somali population, and St. Louis, which became home to tens of thousands of Bosnian refugees after the Balkan wars.

In recent weeks, hostile rhetoric toward immigrants has escalated.

At a vice-presidential debate this month, Mr. Vance blamed "illegal immigrants" for the competitive housing market, something Mr. Walz disagreed with. It was a rare moment of tension in an exchange many characterized as Midwest nice.

Former President Donald J. Trump's campaign has also promoted an outlandish, false claim about Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio. The musician John Legend, who is from the town and has campaigned for Senator Sherrod Brown of Ohio, Mr. Vance's Democratic counterpart, criticized the Republican ticket for those claims. He emphasized the benefits of immigrants in a place that had struggled with population decline. "They wanted to live the American dream, just like your German ancestors, your Irish ancestors," he said in an Instagram video.

The boundaries of the Midwest, both cultural and geographical, have long been pushed and argued over.

The Census Bureau has a 12-state definition for the region. They are Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota, Ohio, South Dakota, and Wisconsin. But there is debate even about that.

In a 2023 survey by Emerson College, a majority of respondents in 22 states identified as Midwestern, going far beyond the Census Bureau map.

The questions around the geographic boundaries date to at least 1850, when the Census Bureau started trying out different regional classifications. But "sometime in the 1880s," said Marie Price, president of the American Geological Society, "the term 'Midwest' begins to stick."

Articles in The New York Times over the decades have explored a perceived divide between the Midwest and the coasts.

Kenneth S. Davis, a historian from Salina, Kan., wrote in an essay published in The New York Times magazine in 1949 that the Midwest was seen by outsiders as "a raw, pioneering land" about which they knew little.

In a Times magazine essay in 1974, the Kansas City, Mo.-born essayist Calvin Trillin quipped that "the Midwest is what's left over."

"Bland, boring and beige," Dan S. Kaercher, the editor of Midwest Living, told a Times reporter in 1987. "That's the perception."

In the 21st century, the view has taken on a nostalgic tint. A host of shared rituals and memes unite Midwesterners (and the Midwest-curious) following the Instagram meme account "Midwest vs. Everybody," run by Bryce Bortscheller, 29.

A star of the account is "ope," the word many say when bumping into someone, as well as state fairs, outside fridges and watching tornadoes and thunderstorms from your porch.

Certain brands come up on the meme page -- Menards or the fast-food chain Culver's, with its deep fried cheese curds, for example. One recent post described a brisk October day as "prime shorts and hoodie weather," which a commenter called a "Midwest mullet."

From the Great Lakes to the Northwoods to Columbus, Chicago and Kansas City, Mr. Bortscheller said the region was full of differences. "They all have their own style and culture," Mr. Bortscheller, who lives in Des Moines, said of the regions. But the memes strike a chord. "I think that people realize that we're not so different after all," he said.

In the more consequential realm of national politics, the two major parties hope they are connecting with the region. For Democrats, Hillary Clinton's narrow defeats in Michigan and Wisconsin still sting. For Republicans, it's Mr. Trump's 2020 losses in both states.

Midwesterners are not always convinced of politicians' Midwest cred.

"Minnesota is barely Midwest," said John Jackson, a retired computer systems engineer from Hamilton, Ohio, describing Mr. Walz. And Mr. Vance? "He's Appalachian," Mr. Jackson said.

At a farmer's market in the Over-the-Rhine neighborhood of Cincinnati, where German immigrants settled in the early 19th century, people visiting from Michigan, Illinois and other parts of Ohio said they associated the Midwest with corn fields, friendliness and family ties.

Lou Fetch, 64, who is from Youngstown, Ohio, said rural America and factory workers came to mind. But he also said the region was full of cultural diversity.

"I find that term 'flyover country' very offensive," Mr. Fetch said. The Midwest had more to offer than what people living on the coasts believed, he added.

He now lives in Cincinnati with his wife, Mary Fetch, 65. Mrs. Fetch said that work colleagues from other cities had asked her if she hated being stuck in the Midwestern city.

"What a rude thing to say," she said with a chuckle. "They need to visit it to realize that we're not backward."

While the nostalgic views of rural life and the state fairs where political candidates campaign remain a focus, the Midwest brought to the spotlight by this year's election is also more complicated.

In his 2016 memoir "Hillbilly Elegy," Senator Vance describes his hometown, Middletown, Ohio, in bleak terms, emphasizing the dwindling number of manufacturing jobs and a drug addiction crisis.

In turn, Governor Walz's emphasis on his Midwest folksiness has made him an easy target for caricature. But he also points to the historic impact of climate change on his state's farmlands.

And the Instagram account Decaying Midwest reflects a less shiny view of the region on social media: shuttered factories, abandoned homes, rotting churches. It touches on the economic contraction and population decline that has affected midsize cities for decades, with places like Detroit and St. Louis working hard to attract residents.

While politicians and pundits describe the Midwest as one thing or another, many Midwesterners say it's all of the above.

Mr. Bortscheller said: "If you want to identify as a Midwesterner, we'll always take you," he said.

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