The deployment of more than 3,000 federal immigration officers to Minnesota has transformed life in the cities of Minneapolis and St Paul, with residents reporting witnessing clashes between civilians and agents, carrying their passports and ID cards around for fear of being stopped, staying home as much as possible, and worrying for the safety of their children while out in public.
“I’ve never witnessed anything like this in the US,” said Dan O’Kane, 69. He came to the conclusion after watching Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officers fighting with students and throwing a teacher to the ground at Roosevelt high school, three blocks from his home.
The Trump administration started its immigration enforcement operation in December, and significantly ramped up the scale of the action in January. More agents arrived later in the month, after an ICE officer fatally shot 37-year-old Renee Good in Minneapolis, and the city erupted in protest.
Over the past week, more than 150 Minnesota residents spoke with the Guardian about the fundamental ways their lives have changed since federal troops arrived in their state. An overwhelming majority of them described the situation in the Twin Cities as “tense”. Many of them felt their cities were “occupied” or described them as “under siege”. Many agreed to speak only on the condition of anonymity, fearful of retribution by the government.
Marcus Kessler said his wife had begun carrying her tribal identification card everywhere, at the urging of the White Earth Ojibwe Nation’s leadership, who had logged instances of immigration officers racially profiling tribal citizens.
“Me and other brown friends are taking precautions: carrying our passports, having phone lines open while we drive, telling people where we’re going, when we expect to arrive, and checking in upon arrival so they don’t worry,” one 57-year-old Latina resident of St Paul, who asked to remain anonymous, said.
“I’m pregnant right now and my OB had a whole conversation about what to do if I get teargassed or pepper-sprayed,” said one 38-year-old mother. “I’m avoiding protests to be safe and instead focusing my efforts on supply runs. I want to defend my neighbors, but find myself needing to keep my baby safe.”
As parents navigate whether to send their children to school or daycare, teachers are reporting lower numbers of children in the classroom. Some schools have begun offering online instruction, as they did during the Covid-19 pandemic.
“I haven’t seen some of my students for two weeks. Every day my class gets smaller and smaller,” a fifth-grade St Paul public schools teacher said. “It’s hard for 10-year-olds to wrap their head around. They were trying to work out how long Trump had left in office, so they know when they can go back outside for recess.”
The same is true for hospitals. Despite cold and flu season, one physician said she had seen “emergency departments and children’s hospitals empty” because “families are too scared to bring in their ill children”.
“People are scared to go out,” said Gerard James, a therapist. “People are enraged, sad, scared.”
As families witness violent arrests and shootings, and navigate the deployment of chemicals like teargas and pepper spray in their neighborhoods, some are evaluating whether it’s safe to continue living in Minnesota.
“My wife and baby daughter went to stay with my parents in another state. I couldn’t stand to have them around this violence,” Seth, a 33-year-old Minneapolis resident, said.
Despite all this – and in many ways because of the ways Minnesotans have pulled together during the operation – many residents who spoke to the Guardian said they felt a deep sense of pride in their home.
Minneapolis has long had strong organizing networks, particularly since the city went through weeks of protest after the killing of George Floyd.
“Living in Minneapolis right now feels a lot like it did during the George Floyd uprising,” said Jason C, a 50-year-old resident of south Minneapolis, who declined to give his last name. “It is definitely a retriggering of those traumas but at the same time the communities and systems that were put in place as a result of George Floyd were immediately brought back online to help marginalized communities in our area.”
A new wave of Minnesotans are also learning strategies to protect their neighbors, like one 72-year-old Minnetonka resident who detailed learning how to record ICE interactions on her phone, despite threats from immigration officers.
Many respondents said they had changed their routines to protect their neighbors – carrying whistles to alert passersby of approaching ICE agents, volunteering for shifts supervising school drop-off, or purchasing personal protective equipment to attend protests where federal officers might deploy teargas – others have taken steps to protect themselves.
“Anyone from the Twin Cities will tell you how unique they are. I moved here last year to escape LGBTQ discrimination in my home state, and seeing the vibrance and kindness of Minneapolis warmed my heart,” said Dan, a 30-year-old resident. “There is a sense of belonging here. That is why I think Trump wants to crush it so badly, the way Somalian people, and other immigrant groups have enriched this city is a threat to them.”
Yet as the ICE operation in Minnesota wears on, many residents say they feel as if they no longer recognize their home. “Federal agents are assaulting and kidnapping American citizens and non-citizens in broad daylight, in our neighborhoods. I thought this only happened in Iran or the USSR,” said Mike, from St Paul.
Many are concerned that the Twin Cities are only the beginning. As one anonymous Minneapolis resident said: “We’re very clearly a test bed to explore what the people of this country will tolerate as long as it doesn’t affect them directly, and the answer appears to be Literally. Fucking. Anything.”
