Once again, Minnesota is the center of attention, and for reasons we’d rather not be.
Masked federal agents are invading our towns, snatching up our neighbors who look Latino or African or Asian, and dousing our neighborhoods in tear gas. They're raiding and staking out schools and daycares, pulling people out of cars (which are left abandoned on the roads), and sending people into hiding. Schools and businesses are shutting down for safety reasons.
There has been excellent coverage of this crisis from both local and national media. But we wanted to amplify the voices of ordinary Minnesotans, to hear how the ICE occupation has changed their lives. And we wanted the world outside of Minnesota to hear from them.
We asked people for their stories, and we were flooded with responses.
What follows is a real-time oral history of the invasion that began in December, as seen through the eyes of the people who lived it. Submissions have been edited lightly for clarity and length, but what you’re reading is the direct testimony of everyday people living through a horrible and historic moment.
The entries are anonymous because a vindictive federal government is targeting anyone who helps their neighbors. Thank you to everyone who contributed. Apologies if we didn’t include your submission—when we received over 7,000 words, we had to make some hard choices.
Stay safe, Minnesota. Stay strong. ICE out of Minnesota now. ICE out of the U.S. tomorrow.
Why We Will Win
The first time I saw ICE was the day before they killed Renee Good. I woke up and immediately saw an agent wearing a gas mask outside my window. I ran outside where neighbors were already gathered. The agent in the gas mask saw me and told me to go home. I said I was home. He told me to go somewhere else. I told him not to tell me where to go. He told me to shut the fuck up. In the street a few feet away there was a car with the front windows shattered. The car was empty.
The agents were armed, most of them with their hands on their weapons. One agent, the only one not covering his face, declared to the crowd that it was his birthday. A woman told him he should be ashamed of himself. After a few minutes, the agents got in their cars and drove away. One agent pointed his gun out the window at the neighbors on the sidewalk. The damaged car was left in the middle of the street, blocking traffic. A few people took it upon themselves to call a tow truck.
Since then I have seen ICE several times. Each time they reveal the same characteristic contempt for the city and the people who live here. They don’t disguise how little they care about us. I see them smile regularly, smug smiles of mockery and delight in the harm they inflict. I have seen ICE smash cars, break windows. After they do this, they drive away from the wreckage they’ve created and leave innocent people with destroyed property.
If someone is abducted, civilians try to find identification in the car left behind and move it to a safe location. There is no case number, no incident report.
I have seen ICE pepper spray peaceful civilians at close range, sometimes directly into their eyes. I have seen them toss tear gas at crowds. I have been gassed three times. They throw flash grenades for seemingly no reason whatsoever. This behavior almost always takes place as they are leaving a scene, a kind of farewell “fuck you” to the residents of the city they are terrorizing. They seem to enjoy hurting people.
What I have also seen is people of Minnesota helping each other, forming all manner of resistance and care. There is care in the moment, improvised on our feet. There is organized care, burrowing through the fear and danger, delivering aid to whoever we can. This is what defines us. Every day more people are out there doing what we can. We do it while armed thugs brandish their weapons on our streets, abduct and abuse innocent people, mock us, gas us, and create an atmosphere of terror. We do it while the government incessantly publishes brazen lies about what is taking place here. We do it because it is who we are. We will always do it.
That’s why we will win.—Anonymous
Hearing the Whistles
I ran outside in late December because the whistles were so close. I was getting my kid ready for school. I put on my boots and grabbed a whistle a neighbor gave me. ICE was taking my neighbor, and we whistled and whistled from a reasonable distance.
On January 7, I had just gotten home from dropping my kid off at school and was sitting down to take off my boots when I heard the whistles. So I went back outside and hurried as fast as I could to where others were gathered. I didn’t know until I got there that a woman had been shot.
There were so many officers, no cops. I found a neighbor and stood with them, ran into other neighbors who were also there, upset. There were moments we thought ICE officers were going to get violent—they had big guns and we had whistles.
On the 12th, I was driving back from the gym and saw a lot of people whistling on Park Avenue. A car ahead of mine veered and bounced into the right lane, crashing into another car. I slowed, and stopped, figuring I would need to provide a witness statement, but it was ICE again—they’d rammed the car in front of mine. Neighbors were already there and flooded the streets as quickly as ICE did. ICE gassed the neighbors and, when they arrived, the reporters too.—Anonymous
They Can’t Kill Us All
I spent the first few days after the execution of Renee Good despairing. Not proud of it, but I was confused, scared, sad, and angry. Most of all angry. Mad that someone had been murdered on the street. Mad that they were getting away with it. Mad no one we elected to lead was offering any leadership other than "remain calm."
But then I got plugged in with my neighborhood patrol, and saw and heard my neighbors doing what our electeds wont: putting themselves between a gun and a victim, chasing these bootlickers out of our town. Getting photographed by faceless agents of the state who later show up in front of their homes. And that gave me hope, and gives me hope. I patrol every day, and this stuff happens to me now, and I’m still angry but I’m not scared or confused or anything else. This is our home, and they can’t kill us all.—Taco Mike
ICE Won’t Stop Us
I watch the students from the street skip eagerly to class. My job is to make sure they make it in safe and that their parents leave unbothered. It's -2 degrees but ICE won't stop me from watching out for our future.—St. Paul Mom and School Patroller
A Weary Mother’s Rage
I am a mother. I have spent the last two weeks standing in the cold protecting other people’s children along with those whose job it is to care for them, nurture and teach them. In the biting wind, in the wet melting snow, and in the freezing temperatures, it’s been hours and hours of standing guard, smiling with a watchful eye, a whistle, and a neon vest. I think to myself every time, “We shouldn’t have to do this.”
The kids are paying attention. They ask questions. At home, I then have to explain to my own child the latest horrors of what has happened in our streets. A mother murdered. A child abducted. Stores vandalized. Leaders nowhere to be seen, doing nothing to stop it. What I can’t do is make any sense out of it or offer any reason. This is madness.
My weariness will fade but my rage won’t.—Mom in St. Paul
Just a Normal Mom
Earlier tonight, a friend elbowed me to reach out to Racket as just a normal mom whose life is totally ICE all the time. And I am just a mom. I spend most of my free time reading books and making cookies. I have a 4-year-old. And a dog. I’m an introvert.
After that elbow earlier, I started jotting down notes in my notes app between doing mom things. (Make dinner! Clean kitchen! Bedtime routine with kid!) And I am just sending the notes app content to you! Just a south Minneapolis mom!
———
In October, a neighbor gathered about 15 of us in her home, to get us thinking about how we can fortify our neighborhood to stand up to our authoritarian government. We brainstormed. We dreamed. We started a Signal. We proceeded to meet biweekly in neighbors’ living rooms. We handed out whistles on Halloween alongside our standard candy and hot dogs. (Yeah, we give out hot dogs on Halloween.) We bring cookies to neighbors we don’t know on our block to try to strengthen community. It’s fun. It’s quaint.
———
On the first Tuesday in December, a neighbor shared on Signal that ICE was on our block. For the first time, I grabbed my whistle and went running down the block. The whistles worked. ICE left (and filmed me, a first but certainly not a last). I hadn’t yet known anyone who’d scared ICE away with a whistle. I tell all my friends that whistles work. Twenty minutes after I had been alerted ICE was outside, I log into a Zoom work meeting.
That week was the first week of this unrelenting siege. It was standing room only at our regularly scheduled neighborhood meeting that week. My husband was followed by ICE the next weekend—twice (once to the hardware store, once to a nature center). And he’s just a dad. We hadn’t heard of that happening before, we were baffled.
———
On the first Monday in January, a neighbor let me know she was vouching for a couple of parents who wanted to join our neighborhood’s signal chat— Renee Good and her wife, Becca.
On the first Wednesday in January, Renee was killed on my street by government agents while I was in a work Zoom meeting. I take an emergency day off. I yell at Greg Bovino. I hug our local librarian. I get pepper-sprayed for the first time.
———
Media reaches out to me because I admin several neighborhood spaces. National media. (How did they even get my number? It’s impressive.) Local media. My husband gets featured in national coverage.
The very first thing I do every morning is share a “morning message” with my neighborhood Signal chat.
The very first thing my husband does every morning is share a “morning message” with our neighborhood’s rapid response Signal.
My husband and I joke that we have more interaction via our neighborhood Signal coordinating than we do face to face.
I don’t leave my house without a whistle. One time I did, and I ended up confronting ICE on my own. The same morning Renee was killed, actually. Two hours beforehand, at the intersection of 38th & Fourth, and I thought they were going to apprehend me. I’ll never leave my house without a whistle again.
I am hemorrhaging money, giving it to neighbors—because they’re afraid to leave their homes, because they’ve been detained, because their place of employment is closed for safety reasons.
I am making plans to work remotely from local taquerias so I can be an extra white body to serve as a protection and to be a witness.
I drive a kindergartener I’d never met before to school.
Every morning, as I bring my own child to daycare, I make solidarity fists at people who are “patrolling” local daycares and schools. (I don’t honk in solidarity because honking is now an alarm.)
My kid makes cards for local businesses thanking them for not liking the bad guys. (Her idea—she’s four and she gets it.)
I sign off my work emails “stay safe.” I end my texts to neighbors with heart emojis. I greet strangers with “fuck ICE.”—Just a South Minneapolis Mom!
We’re Organizing
The basketball moms are organizing.
The dorky pastors are organizing.
The preschool parents are organizing.
The dive bar regulars are organizing.
The book clubs are organizing.
The taekwondo dojangs are organizing.
The uncles group chat is organizing.
They want it to be something sinister but it's mostly because Minnesota is one of the most civic-minded states in the US and we care about all our friends' kids.
We are going to win.—Scoops
Patrol Prep
Here’s what I tell my various partners before we go patrolling:
“I am not carrying any weapons, per training. However, I am wearing ballistic armor. Should the need arise you should shelter behind me. Additionally, the bag at my feet contains two full-face respirators.”
I haven’t been on that many patrols yet. I’ve only seen ICE in their cars as we pursue and track them. They haven’t yet threatened me personally with their guns and their “first and final” warnings. Most of my exposure has been through community videos.
And I still hear phantom sirens when it gets quiet.—Lauderdale, MN
Dudes Rock
A dad on patrol this morning is showing off his new egregiously expensive ice-fishing boots that he justified “because I’m standing out here all the time.” Dudes are going to continue rocking until morale improves.—Anonymous
They Don’t Deserve This
We have been helping with rides for at-risk neighbors, and one of the families we have been working with asked my spouse and I if we would be "power of attorney" for their children.
While my spouse's Spanish is decent, we had to meet up with the family at a Spanish-speaking neighbor's house (who was also taking a risk by having us there) to fully understand what they wanted. Ultimately, they were asking us—people they've known for a little over a month—to sign "DOPAs" or "Designation of Parental Authority" forms so we would care for their children if they, the parents, were taken.
The agreement is that we, childless millennials by choice, would care for their children until we could safely reunite them with their parents out of the country. Without hesitation, we agreed. In the dark of night, a notary hustled over, observed the paperwork being signed, and issued their stamp.
These people, who carried two babies across multiple countries and through the freaking Darién Gap, were trying to build a better life here. They've raised two kids who are kind, loving, and affectionate. They don't deserve this. But at this point, does America deserve them?—Childless Millennials in South Mpls
Es Eléctrico!
We're seeing the creation of American refugees. The mom of a family we're helping asked for a ride to the bank; we assumed we'd be helping with a paycheck deposit. When we pulled up, two women hopped in the car clutching their purses.
We set off toward a branch of the bank in the whitest neighborhood we could think of, assuming it would have the least likelihood for ICE activity. My spouse went into the bank with them just to help with interpretation, and after 20 minutes I started to panic. The text I got back from my spouse simply said, "It's complicated."
Long story short, they were wiring their extended family's combined life savings in cash—a not insignificant sum—out of the country and are planning to flee in the coming weeks.
Once the deposit was made, the women were euphoric with relief and even invited us to visit them in their home country. When we pulled up to their home, they offered to pay for gas, to which my spouse replied, "Es eléctrico!" Everyone burst out laughing.—A South Minneapolis Couple
Carrying My Passport
In December 2025, I told my dad I was carrying a passport indefinitely, and he laughed. He laughed nicely, but he did laugh.
For him, it seemed absurd: He's been a naturalized U.S. citizen since before I was born, for well over 40 years now. As Oromo refugees from Ethiopia, he and my mother have experienced hardships I can't imagine.
Their journey to the United States has always been something I've taken pride in. Not everyone can brag about their parents being jailed for standing up against their authoritarian government. Not everyone can say their parents met and married while escaping enemy soldiers in a refugee camp in Djibouti. (The running joke among my friend group is that my parents are bigger badasses than I could ever hope to be, and I always laugh with them, because it's true.)
So yeah, my dad laughed at the idea of his U.S.-born daughter, with her American accent, who never even wears hijab, ever needing to prove she was a citizen.
And then he thought about it.
"You'll be fine," he said, confident at first, then hesitated. "Well, maybe—but you don't have an accent. You don't wear hijab. You should be fine, you're not what they're looking for."
He said it to reassure me, because he knows I get anxious and he's a good and loving father, who wants to make sure his daughter feels safe.
But even he conceded, in the end, that me carrying my passport probably wasn't a bad thing.
That conversation was in December. And now here we are, in the middle of January, and Nasra Ahmed, another black East African woman who, like me, was born in Hennepin County and, like me, has been a United States citizen since she took her first breath—she was taken by ICE, and beaten, and detained for days. Days.
How absurd is it that I have to be thankful she was released at all? That she is not on the horrifying, heartbreaking, growing list of people who have lost their lives to ICE?
I've tried to stay busy since Renee Good's killing. I've donated to local causes, marched through the streets with other Minneapolis residents in protest, dropped off food and toiletries for food drives, joined Signal chats, and met with my neighbors. I now carry a whistle around my neck everywhere I go. And yes, my passport is carefully moved from tote purse to crossbody bag to work bag and back again, so that whenever I leave my apartment, I will always have it with me.
But also… there are days where I just don't want to leave my apartment. Where I want to be quiet and safe in my home, where I don't run the risk of running into an ICE agent on the street, or watching an ICE convoy drive down Hennepin Avenue as though this city is theirs and not mine, not ours. Days where I don't want to read the news, or think about what's happening, days where I don't want to be strong, to fight.
And yes, sometimes that fills me with shame, with guilt. But mostly, it makes me furious. I have every right to be here. Our neighbors have every right to be here. Renee Good had every right to be where she was that Wednesday. The only ones who don't belong here are the ICE agents marching around in their ridiculous camo gear, doing their best to make themselves feel big and powerful, thinking that the more they shout, the more we will cringe before them.
I am furious that I have to waste a moment of my day thinking of these fools. I am furious that Renee Good isn't alive today, at home with her wife and child. I am furious when I think of the families separated by ICE, Stephen Miller, and Donald Trump. I am furious that our state, which has already seen so much tragedy in just the past year, that is still trying to repair from the murder of George Floyd and the unwilling spotlight we were thrust into, is yet again a part of history through no choice of our own.
And I'm furious that after that December conversation, I was the one proven right, and not my dad.—Hangatu, Minneapolis
Scared to Go to Work
I moved here from the West Coast in 2025 for work. In the past seven weeks, I’ve organized my apartment building, supported student safety at a local school during dismissal, and lost count of the caring neighbors I’ve met.
But I’m also scared to go to my job. I was born in the U.S., but I am not white. ICE agents regularly patrol and detain people in the areas where I live and work. I’ve already asked people I trust in my building if they take the same bus as me, because I’d feel safer commuting with a buddy. No luck. I’ll ask people in the neighborhood text thread next.—New Neighbor in South Minneapolis
Close Calls
My partner and I live with his ailing mom who is battling stage 3 cervical cancer, so the best I can do right now is to send donations to organizations helping immigrants and to independent news organizations.
I am Hmong-American and I have been working from home to avoid commuting and possibly being pulled over unlawfully by ICE. Similarly, we have been staying in and do not go out unless absolutely necessary.
One of my siblings had ICE come knocking on their door in the St. Paul area; they did not answer. My parents were also flying in after traveling overseas and were stopped by ICE agents at the airport. We were lucky that both incidents avoided further conflicts. Still, they were scared it even happened. Stay safe!—Demi Cat
Breaking Containment
What really jumped out to me is how little even my most news-addicted friends are aware of the other incidents involving ICE apart from the shootings. When I've described some of the beatings or the other incidents of American citizens getting harassed or wrongfully arrested, the links I share are the first time they hear about it. I guess I hope this reminds people to make sure these incidents "break containment" and get talked about outside of our local circles.—Lowertown Resident
Texts to My Aunt
Sorry I couldn’t answer earlier: I was at work.
It is very bad here. ICE is everywhere, abducting people based on their skin color, arresting people who are legally observing ICE actions and just all-around being jerks—driving wildly, stopping traffic, going door to door and asking about the ethnicity of people’s neighbors. Oh, and shooting and killing people.
The other night, after they shot someone in the leg, they threw a flash grenade and tear gas at a van with a family inside who was just trying to get away from all the trouble. A six-month-old baby stopped breathing because of the tear gas; the mom had to use CPR to keep the baby breathing… in the dark… in the cold… having just been flash grenaded and tear gassed, herself.
Yesterday, they broke into and abducted a Hmong man, an American citizen who had fought with the Americans in Vietnam and came to the states in the ’70s. They took him out of his house into below freezing windchills while he was wearing shorts and crocs and nothing else. They stuffed him in a SUV and drove away. Only after talking to him in the SUV did they realize they had gone to the wrong address or something and released him back to his family.
Insane stuff like this is happening all throughout the city and the state. A friend of mine said “it’s not immigration enforcement, it’s ethnic cleansing,” and that really is what they are doing. It’s not about fraud or crime or safety or anything. It’s about removing brown people from our city.
We are living in an occupied city. Many restaurants and businesses are closed so employees can stay home, safe. At work, I've got employees who are out on leave so they can stay home in hiding, essentially. There are other employees who live in fear of being snatched on the way home or on the way to work.
Consider everything they have to do in regular life, then add in the literal fear that dudes in trucks are going to kidnap you at any moment! The employees who aren't as likely to be affected in that way are also traumatized. It hurts so much to see people we care about living in this pain and fear. You'd never think you would miss seeing certain Instacarters, but the sadness of knowing why you're not seeing them is heavy.
Now, the other side of this, is the whole city, the citizens, are rallying to care for our neighbors. We’re driving people to work, we’re delivering groceries, we’re doing laundry, we’re patrolling around schools, we’re chasing ICE every chance we get. We are slowing them down and caring for our neighbors.
By the way, they’re flying drones over the city now. Like, RIGHT NOW.
Not little drones. The big-assed, military drones.
I appreciate you calling. I’m off work on Wednesday, try me then!—Matt
Even in the Suburbs
I'm a parent in the west metro. Things are usually pretty quiet here. But ICE is here, and it’s affecting every aspect of my life.
I see abandoned cars on the side of the road almost every time they drive. I see deeply tinted SUVs most places, some driving recklessly despite icy conditions like it's Mario Kart.
Minnesota is a place with a broad cross-section of humanity. You can find every manner of clothing, food, language, skin tone, and custom here on a normal day. It isn't like that in public anymore.
"Have your papers with you" is advice given even to citizens.
But people are showing up and turning out for their neighbors all over in every way you can imagine. The fabric of Minnesota is stronger with every stroke to tear it apart.—Concerned West Metro Parent
The View From Monticello
I live in a red county between St. Cloud and Minneapolis. I was several feet from two ICE agents, whistling, and one yelled, “You’re obstructing!” and came at me. He tried pepper spraying from afar, soaking my pants, then as I turned away, I saw spray in the air next to me. Then he reached around, put the nozzle under my glasses and sprayed directly into my left eye.
He then headed in the direction of another observer who was filming, a young woman, as I ran to my car to flush my eyes (and lock myself in). I held up my phone to get photos and video of her being detained, not really seeing anything but the blur of where another ICE vehicle was parked.
I heard another observer narrate the beating of a man (who I later learned was another observer who had shown up and whistled). He and the young woman were detained (the only ones). After ICE left, several wonderful people descended on me with more water for my eyes. Other people coordinated contacting the observers’ families and getting vehicles to them. Both were released, but ICE kept the woman’s phone.—Anonymous
“Love Thy Neighbor,” Etc.
I watched CBP pull up on a woman in her car outside the Dollar Tree at Nicollet and Lake a couple hours after they killed Renee Good and, being from the South, I knew just what I was looking at. The Nazi comparisons are apt, but the KKK ones are even more so.
My wife and I attended a training in October so we knew some of what was needed. I was just barely recovered from the flu on the 7th. Doesn't matter. We started whistle foot patrols immediately and I joined a school patrol/aid group.
We haven't done RR (rapid response) because our schedules don't really lend themselves to it (and I'm bad at driving in the snow...) but there's so much need that it doesn't matter. Last weekend we dropped about $1,400 on the northeast food drive, we're giving out Hot Hands, etc.
Our literal neighbors are immigrants, and we're Christian, so this feels like work we are called to do. "Love thy neighbor," etc. We have these shiny tech salaries so now we're using them too.
We can't and won't let them lock us in a world like 1950s North Carolina. To me, nothing matters more than this.—Tech Worker in Lyndale
Alone With My Thoughts
Last night, finally alone with my thoughts after a grueling week, the darkness came over me—the things we can't talk about. We are all in overdrive right now. We help wherever we can all while going to work and taking care of our families so we keep those thoughts at bay. It's enough to get through the day.
But it hit me: Where are the women and children? You see men in cages but no women. There's a video going around showing an agent taking a handcuffed woman into a Porta-Potty. Where is she? What happened? It's an image that haunts me.
But really, we can't think about the aftermath of an abduction. The abuse of those detainees. The ones that have just disappeared. Those left behind, the trauma, the economic impact of families already barely getting by. There are too many pieces to pick up. The gravity of it all is too heavy right now to handle everything. We have to compartmentalize today so we can make it to tomorrow. Our lives have to go on. And there's oh-so-much work to be done.
We drove to Mankato last week to see my son and saw a few abandoned cars along the side of I-169 and the side streets in the small towns we went through. The driver's side of the windows were broken out. Just one hole in the middle of a cracked window. One had the door still open. ICE was here. This is their calling card now.
These are people just doing normal things, not knowing they aren't coming home that day. The damage is going to be everlasting and very deep. But we can't deal with that now, that's for tomorrow when it's finally all over.
Only one person from out of state has checked in on me. The rest don't care because they don't care to know how fucked up things really are here. I couldn't tell them without sounding like a crazy person anyway. I know a few of the "just comply" crowd too who just don’t want to engage.
But if they ever do reach out, I have one thing to say: "Buddy, until your autonomy, your rights, your very existence is on each and every ballot each and every year. Shut the hell up. You don’t know it now, but I'm fighting for you too."—Denise
I Don’t Want to Do This! I Have to Do This!
My husband tells a story of a time an inebriated college classmate happened upon a fire extinguisher. The classmate grabbed it and yelled, “I don’t want to do this!” He then pulled the pin and yelled, “I have to do this!” while carpeting the hallway in foam. For the past 16 years that’s been our shorthand for an unstoppable compulsion. “I don’t want to do this! I have to do this!”
Over and over again I hear, “I can’t believe I have to do this.” I can’t believe I have to respond to an abduction in progress. I can’t believe I have to patrol school pick-up. I can’t believe I had to learn the difference between an Expedition and an Escape. It’s both freeing and distressing. I don’t want to do this! I have to do this!—Anonymous
Pepper-Sprayed
Last Sunday, I was legally recording an abduction of one of my neighbors when I was pepper-sprayed in the face by an ICE agent. This occurred one block away from where my child went to school.—Dad in Northeast Minneapolis
Like a Scene out of The Walking Dead
It’s a cold, blustery day. I drive to work. My street is usually full of people walking their dogs and getting coffee. I live on a busy commercial street in Minneapolis. The streets are dead except an old man with a whistle, cane, and a high viz vest on. There are people guarding businesses on my street. The people at the bus stops look terrified. ICE has been randomly snatching people from bus stops all week. These aren’t “targeted” operations; this is an ethnic cleansing campaign.
Multiple times on my commute, I spot ICE vehicles. They are everywhere. You drive down one busy road in Minneapolis, and you are guaranteed to run into them within 10 minutes. It’s an occupation.
I try to focus on caring for my patients with a sense of dread in my stomach all day. When I get ready to leave, I open my phone to find they tear gassed a pizza place right down the road from me. For no reason. Well, the fact that they donated a bunch of pizza to people in hiding is probably a reason. There are so many people in hiding, we have to donate and deliver food to them. But our community scared the feds away just with whistles and honks. We are not afraid.
Driving home, I see multiple abandoned cars on the side of 35W. It looks like a scene out of The Walking Dead. There’s no weather or snow to explain these empty cars. They are all people kidnapped by the state for daring to be a person of color in Trump’s America. As I pass the exit to highway 62, I see ICE pull over a man in an unmarked vehicle and quickly detain him without many questions. They just grabbed him because he is East African.
I get home and my friend reports she saw a similar thing happen to a Latino man on her way home from work. I call Monarca and pray he’s okay.
I try to sleep, but all I hear is helicopters and honking. Then, I try to open my phone to get my mind off of things. Instead, I find that they shot another person tonight.
They tear gas a residential neighborhood and make a baby stop breathing by throwing tear gas into a car of a family they said could leave. They brutalize a Black neighborhood all night because they chased someone at 40 mph down a residential street and shot someone. Then, DHS says it was the family’s fault for having their baby at a riot.
There are no riots here; just people living in their own neighborhoods and getting terrorized for existing as people of color. It can happen here. It is happening here, and they are trying to make sure you don’t know about it.—Nurse in Uptown
Doing a Lot and Not Enough
Ever since this summer, around August, when I witnessed an abduction on my block, we were aware of ICE and could feel their increased presence. Feel it even if we didn't always see it. Neighbors talking, co-workers talking, social media, etc.
I was in Chicago the week before the surge started there and I felt the shock of seeing places in my friends' neighborhoods where I had just been overrun by ICE agents in tactical gear and rifles and also seeing the response. The whistles. The community rallying.
A couple days before Xmas our neighbor texted to say ICE was back on our block and he was going out after them. I jumped in my car and took off behind him without knowing where I was going or what I was going to do when I got there. I went without even telling my wife that I would circle back for her.
By Christmas Eve I was in our hyperlocal Signal chat. Observer training. Hand books. SALUTE. What to do if you are detained. Know your rights.
Honestly, the first few days it was overwhelming. From then on it has been a huge part of our lives: watching the chats, patrolling, mutual aid, getting food for our neighbors, arranging rides, keeping an eye out at all times.
My wife and neighbors chased them off our street, screaming at them. Every late model domestic truck is potentially ICE, doubly if they have out of state plates. I have my own whistle.
Then Renee Good and Roosevelt High. Our elementary school stopped having kids doing crosswalk patrols so I do that now in the mornings before work. We have been doing other things as well that I don't feel comfortable sharing. It is hardly just us, there are people in your neighborhood who you will never know, who no one will ever know, fighting these fascists, these people are real heroes. Now it is all day every day. All of us in this fight. I am struggling because it feels like we are doing a lot and not enough.
Anyway, we'll keep fighting. Cuz fuck it, they don't have enough bullets.—Anonymous
Volunteers out the Door
My sister-in-law immigrated to Minnesota at age 18 on a sponsorship visa from a country in East Africa. She worked two or three minimum-wage jobs at a time. She worked and worked and worked, and studied and worked, became a naturalized citizen, and worked and studied some more. Now she's a medical professional who saves lives on every shift.
Last week I ran errands for her because she felt unsafe outside of her home and immediate neighborhood. I drove across town to a specialty grocer to buy a traditional food from her home country so that she didn't have to risk harassment, or worse, from ICE.
Since mid-December, I have volunteered at Dios Habla Hoy, the church that’s getting famous for delivering groceries to people homebound out of fear of ICE capture.
At first, there were dozens of volunteers to pack and deliver boxes. The last time I went, I could barely get in the door because volunteers were packed in line, parka to parka, proving that Minnesotans want to help keep their neighbors safe.—Southwest Minneapolis Activist
ICE and the Schools
As a teacher, the idea that keeps running through my head is that 2020 is back, but this time it’s worse. School is currently cancelled for a couple days because teachers need time to prepare online learning for families who are afraid of leaving their home. Our school community has been coordinating grocery deliveries for families who are afraid to leave their home.
This time it’s not a pandemic—our families are afraid of being racially profiled by the federal government. We have neighbors keeping watch during arrival and dismissal. This is insane! Amidst the chaos and fear I am incredibly proud of my colleagues and school community for rallying around our families who need help. Every day I’m seeing amazing people doing amazing things to support people who need it most. We’re not going to stop. ICE out now.—A Teacher in Saint Paul
Abandoned by the State
I live in Minneapolis and work for a state agency. We've received all-staff emails about "the ongoing situation in Minnesota" and had Teams calls with senior leadership in which they purport to take our questions and give us guidance. I've been heartened to see my coworkers' concern for our colleagues and neighbors and disgusted by the response from our bosses.
Staff who are immigrants and POC have quite reasonably asked what protections they have from federal law enforcement at work or on their commutes. They're told that there will be no general guidance given and everyone has to take it up individually with their supervisor.
Staff who work in public-facing locations have asked how they can make it clear what spaces are public and where they can refuse entry. No general guidance, take it up with your building coordinator. We have existing policies. Use those.
Can communications staff compile applicable policies and procedures into guides to help coworkers? No. In emergencies, we are directed to call 911. If you get detained? Well, we understand this may not be possible, but please try to let your supervisor know.
Thanks! I hate it!—A State Worker
Paranoia Behind the Wheel
Whenever I’m driving, my head is always on a swivel for SUVs with tinted windows. If it's out-of-state plates, I am always looking to see who the driver is. I resent that I am in a state of distrust and paranoia about commuters all around me because they could be secret police on their way to brutalize and kidnap someone.—Anonymous
Permanent Images
What I'm taking from everyday life during the ICE occupation is just how many images and feelings will stick with me forever. Being at a protest and seeing a young kid in the backseat of a car put their hands up to the window in a heart shape as they drove by. Parents wearing safety vests at the corners around my kid's school. Getting takeout from my favorite restaurants and seeing they have a fraction of the staff to get those orders out. And just the constant feeling of nervousness that doesn't go away. All while watching those in power lie about everything.—Angry and Sad Guy in St. Paul
For Nora, Age 3
If I die on the streets today
Know that I was
only there to make
the world a safe place
for you
and your cousins
and your friends
Know that I wanted
another little girl
to come home
to see mommy and daddy waiting
the way they should be
Know that I needed
to show you what
a just world looks like
and what it means
to stand up for
what is right
Know that I believe
the world is bigger
and more beautiful than this
and you can make it
a place of kindness
love
and peace
Know that I love you
forever
and always
—Gretchen
Unsafe but Hopeful
I have never felt so unsafe here, but what keeps me going is the incredible amount of community organizing that is happening. I'm seeing our much greater numbers step up and be used effectively in real time. As afraid as I am, I really believe we will win if we keep fighting together.—Lifelong Twin Cities Resident
Modelo Resistance
The bar to resisting these goblins is so unbelievably low. You don’t have to be Will Stancil in his Honda Fit. You don’t have to wear a hi-viz vest in a church parking lot or drive a terrified Spanish-speaking person to their daycare gig. You don’t even have to sleep with an ICE agent’s third wife while he’s here assaulting teens. (That said, I encourage you to do all these things. Careful out there, Will.)
If you’re a comfortable Gen-Xer like me, you can very literally just…go shopping.
I live on St. Paul’s West Side, which means I have easy access to a feast of immigrant-owned restaurants and markets. Every single one of these establishments is currently getting harassed by our government’s pudgy ethnic cleansers. January is a brutal month for the hospitality industry without the goon squad circling the parking lot looking for a line cook to abduct. Have fun making payroll.
How can you help? Sit your ass at the bar and order tacos and a Modelo. Get some bun cha gio and a side of wontons to go. Say hi to the employee working in the freezing entryway to let customers in and keep thugs out. Tip like a Rockefeller.
You’re a white American male in your 50s. You’ve been trained to consume since kindergarten. You’ve got this.
Welcome to the resistance, Jeremy. The salsa verde will change your life.—Steve from St. Paul
We're Here to Stay
My wife and I live in Longfellow and observe or patrol almost every day. We have a seven year old, so we can't do this together and risk us both being detained. Of course, it's exhausting—another job added to the ones we already have.
We've had scary run-ins with ICE, but there's the grim reassurance that we can commiserate about it with almost anyone else we know who's experienced the same. One friend said it best: "I can't keep doing this. I have to keep doing this." I try to take days off, but then I feel restless, like I'm not doing enough.
Our city's collective trauma will take years to process. But there is also solidarity, joy, and the subtle but exhilarating conviction that we're going to win. These fuckfaces are confused, dim, angry, afraid. They have no concrete goal, but we do. They have no exit strategy, and we don't need one because we're here to stay.
My daughter has a surface understanding of the situation—she "trains to beat up ICE" with friends at recess. Years from now, when she asks me how our family fought back, I want to be proud of the answer I give her.—Longfellow Dad
