Civil rights, Muhammad Ali and a mosque. Here’s the hidden history of a Miami landmark

For more than five decades, Mattie Collins has joined the worshipers and curious onlookers who pour into a green-and-white building within earshot of Interstate 95.

They climb up the stairs, take off their shoes and place them on a rack before stepping into a red-carpeted room. Most face east as the recitation begins.

The believers face Mecca, Islam’s holiest city, and worship their creator in a language understood by some but revered by all in the room.

They congregate for prayers in Liberty City’s Masjid Al-Ansar, Miami’s — and Florida’s — oldest mosque.

Its name is of Arabic origin with masjid translating to “a place where one prostrates,” a key motion during Islamic prayers, and Al-Ansar to “the helpers.”

The mosque of the helpers is one of two dozen Islamic centers in South Florida, and one of the few with a majority of Black worshipers. Though most Islamic centers are run by immigrants, Al-Ansar’s congregation has been historically made up of American-born converts to Islam such as Collins.

During the holy month of Ramadan, Muslims abstain from food and water from sunrise to sunset, temper their thoughts and give to the poor. Mosques like Al-Ansar host iftars, community meals to break the fast, and taraweeh, a voluntary prayer performed every night throughout the month.

The fast ends with Eid al-Fitr, a day of feasting and gift-giving, which is expected to begin on the evening of April 20.

Collins, 83, doesn’t visit the mosque as much as she once did due to long-term health problems. But she witnessed its journey, including parts of Miami history that even life-long locals don’t know about.

A hidden Miami history

Just a passing site off I-95 to most people, the mosque is home to notable chapters of Black Miami history. The landmark at 5245 NW Seventh Ave., once a church, was purchased in 1966 by Elijah Muhammad, the leader of the Nation of Islam. Before then, Miami’s Muslim community gathered at storefronts and homes in Overtown.

The Nation was established in the 1930s and gained popularity in the ‘60s amid the civil rights movement. Its doctrine combined Islam with Black nationalism and separatist politics, attracting followers like civil rights leader Malcolm X.

In the late ‘70s, Al-Ansar shifted away from the Nation of Islam as the group grappled with internal splits. Two factions emerged: One sticking with Louis Farrakhan, who resurrected old Nation beliefs, and the other with the son of Elijah Muhammad, W. Deen Mohammed, who guided the movement toward traditional Islam. Those in Miami who stuck with the Nation of Islam have since congregated at Muhammad Mosque No. 29, minutes away from Al-Ansar.

Mohammed broke with the Nation over Islamic traditions and perspectives of race. He rejected his father’s claims of prophethood a year after his death in 1975, instead stressing the core tenets of Islam, its universality and anti-racist ideology.

Al-Ansar leaders then led the congregation toward traditional Islam. For most, it was a welcomed transition as they learned the underlying principles of the religion: the shahada, profession of faith; salaat, five daily prayers; zakat, almsgiving; sawm, fasting during the holy month of Ramadan; and hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca.

Although Al-Ansar is no longer affiliated with the Nation of Islam, signs all around the mosque pay homage to its history. They honor Elijah Muhammad for purchasing the house of worship and detail the impact of famous members like the great boxer Muhammad Ali, who trained in South Beach and Miami.

Ali, who lived in Overtown at the time, was drawn to the message of the Nation in the ‘60s and was a regular at services. He didn’t purchase the mosque, though Miami lore claims otherwise. He did, however, support it financially, even donating buses for its Clara Mohammed School, which educates pre-K to eighth-grade students in Arabic, religion, math, science, language arts and history.

His path to Islam — and the mosque — was even captured in the 2001 movie “Ali,” which filmed scenes in the prayer area.

During Ali’s time in Miami, Al-Ansar sat on a property that extended to the middle of what is now I-95. That land was taken when the highway’s construction cut through Overtown, disrupting the vibrant community.

Today, the plot of land is smaller but the mosque’s impact extends beyond Liberty City. The building, its colors now fading, is being repaired.

“This historic landmark serves as a religious center for the Islamic community and is an important part of Miami-Dade County’s Black history,” said Dorothy Jenkins-Fields, founder of the Black Archives.

A way of life

For Mattie Collins, Al-Ansar is more than a community. It’s a way of life.

Collins grew up south of Tallahassee in the countryside. Baptist-born and farm-bred, she credits her upbringing for drawing her to Islam.

She was in her 20s when she met members of the Nation of Islam in Miami. Back then, they gathered at a storefront near Range Funeral Home — and she liked what she heard.

“Some of the things I heard were some of the things my parents taught me,” Collins said. “How to love yourself, how to respect each other, how to share with others, how to help the poor, how to help the sick.”

Collins met Ali when he was Cassius Clay. She remembers when he contacted Elijah Muhammad to purchase the building, which they then called Temple No. 29.

Her connection with the boxing legend even cost her a job in the records department of the then-Dade County Sheriff’s Office.

“They loved Cassius Clay when he beat Sonny Liston,” she said, referring to the historic boxing match in 1964 in Miami Beach. “But when he changed his name, they did not like him.”

Before fights and while in the ring, Ali had a boastful bravado, a swagger that sometimes teetered between confident and conceited. But that was his professional life. With Collins and others in the community, he was humble and down to earth, a man with a youthful spirit who took time to play with children of the congregation.

“He didn’t care what color your were or where you came from,” Collins said. “If you needed help, he was there to help.”

Collins spent every day in Al-Ansar for years, volunteering until the mid-‘90s. She would bring her two sons and daughter when she took on whatever needed to be done, once even serving as secretary of the Clara Mohammed School.

With her health complications, she can’t volunteer or make her way to the mosque as often.

“I’m not depressed because I celebrate 365 days a year that All Mighty God blessed me to wake up,” Collins said.

The days she doesn’t feel like getting up, she reminds herself of the blessings surrounding her, especially when she sees people from all over the world come together in the mosque. That’s why she calls Al-Ansar: “A way of life, striving to do right and be right.”

Reclaiming the narrative

The histories of Black Muslim communities aren’t well recorded, although telling the stories of American Muslims in general is a challenge in a post-9/11 world, said Iqbal Akhtar, an associate professor in religious studies at Florida International University.

Despite its lengthy history in a fairly new city, Al-Ansar isn’t included on heritage tours, Akhtar said.

“It’s important and vital to the story of Miami,” he said. “It’s connected to very illustrious people like Muhammad Ali and Malcolm X.”

Born and raised in New Orleans, Akhtar found a home in the Al-Ansar community after relocating. Back home, he attended a mosque with a similar community and history.

That’s partly what has inspired him to work on oral history projects related to the mosque. The initiative has been supported by FIU, the county and the state.

Though he’s glad the Historic Hampton House, a museum and cultural center in Brownsville, is well-known and preserved, he hopes more exposure will do the same for Al-Ansar.

“The story of Black Miami is being told,” he said. “But a lot of times, the story of Black Muslim Miami is not told...”

Al-Ansar, he said, has been a lifeline for a community. Its pioneering generation, with an entrepreneurial spirit, empowered a middle class of professionals and business owners in a time when the establishment wanted to quash Black nationalism.

“It’s not just about the ability to vote and to repeal segregation,” Akhtar said. “But if you’re not able to make money and you’re not financially independent, then any of those rights don’t mean anything.”

America wasn’t as multicultural or multireligious as it is today, Akhtar said. It was a white Christian dominated society. The mosque — and many others like it — challenged that mentality.

“That was the only narrative that existed in terms of what it meant to be an American,” Akhtar said. “Black Muslims helped to push that narrative. “

Al-Ansar was the most influential entity in the neighborhood in the ‘60s, said Imam Nasir Ahmad, who has led the mosque since it adopted traditional Islam in the 1970s.

“It was the first in many ways,” Ahmad said. “In so many firsts that it was, it was the first independent Black voice in Miami.”

Ali and Malcolm X

At Al-Ansar, Malcolm X and Muhammad Ali attracted crowds wanting to hear them speak, whether they were Muslim or not.

“Most of them would not become Muslim, but most of them could relate and would take the message and internalize it the way they wanted to improve the situation at that time,” Ahmad said.

For Ahmad, the Nation was a social movement born in response to racism and oppression. That’s why he considers Elijah Muhammad the first civil rights leader — he stood up when no one else would.

“The African American was used as a battering ram to open the doors for all other groups and oppressed people in America and throughout the world,” Ahmad said.

The mosque, Ahmad said, has remained an independent voice, even as leaders betray everyday folks.

“They call this the Black masjid,” Ahmad said. “They call this the ghetto masjid. ... We don’t cower down to anybody. You can’t buy us in here. We ain’t for sale.”

For community’s sake

As a student at Mississippi State University, Patricia Salahuddin heard the Nation of Islam preaching a message of self-reliance and freeing oneself.

It resonated with her, and she joined the movement. Her husband did, too.

By the time they moved to Miami in 1983 with their five children, the couple had abandoned the habits of the Nation and embraced traditional Islam.

Salahuddin, 73, reminisces on how packed the mosque used to be. Immigrant Muslims from around the world had just settled in Miami — and almost all attended jummuah, or Friday prayers, at Al-Ansar. Worshipers’ children also spent their days with the community, playing, taking Arabic classes and going on camping trips.

The Al-Ansar community is now aging, but its commitment to service continues, said Salahuddin, who is on the mosque’s board. The pantry feeds about 150 people whenever it’s open, including every Saturday of Ramadan.

Al-Ansar has worked with the organization People Acting for the Community Together for 20 years and has championed issues such as affordable housing and gun violence. Its school, Salahuddin said, is open to all, not just Muslims.

“We’ve been here for the community when the community needs us, as a support,” Salahuddin said. “It’s a part of our religious obligation to uphold justice, promote justice.”

Though before her time, the mosque — and Miami Muslims — were key parts of the fight for justice during the civil rights movement, Salahuddin said.

“There are many Muslims here who have been the first in terms of how Miami transitioned into being a more inclusive place to live,” she said. “Muslims put their fingerprints all over Miami.”