Fighting for the Soul of Minnesota: A Community's Uprising Against ICE
In a state that prides itself on its progressive values, Minneapolis has become a battleground in the fight against Donald Trump's mass deportation tactics. The city's residents have come together to defend their neighbors from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), using a range of creative strategies to outsmart the federal agents.
For many Minnesotans, the decision to get involved was prompted by the killings of two observers, Alex Pretti and Renee Nicole Good, who were filming ICE agents. The victims' deaths sparked widespread outrage, and Cory, a south Minneapolis resident, felt compelled to join the fight. Despite the dangers, he continued to document ICE agents' movements, even after being hit with pepper spray.
The resistance is built on a foundation of community engagement, worker unions, and a network of non-profits, faith communities, and advocacy groups. Neighborhoods that banded together after George Floyd's death in 2020 have reignited their networks, creating a powerful coalition against ICE.
Tens of thousands of Minnesotans have taken up the cause, using tactics such as car patrols, documentation, and community-led groups to defend their neighbors. The movement has also seen a surge in economic activism, with businesses switching to donation-based models and individuals donating to mutual aid networks.
The impact of the resistance is being felt nationwide. A recent survey found that 23% of likely voters had participated in protests or taken other actions against ICE, despite the risks. Local organizations have pulled off economic blackouts and large rallies, attracting supporters from across the country.
At the forefront of the resistance are community leaders, including women who have lost loved ones to ICE's brutal tactics. They are using their voices to demand action from local officials and the federal government.
As one resident, Lori Gesch, a proud "Granny against ICE," put it: "If they want to take me down β go for it. But I just wanted to show them I'm not afraid."
The fight is far from over, but the outpouring of support in Minnesota serves as a beacon of hope for communities across the country. As Cory, one of the initial observers who sparked the movement, said: "I don't think we can take our foot off the gas until we know our neighbors are safe."
In a state that prides itself on its progressive values, Minneapolis has become a battleground in the fight against Donald Trump's mass deportation tactics. The city's residents have come together to defend their neighbors from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), using a range of creative strategies to outsmart the federal agents.
For many Minnesotans, the decision to get involved was prompted by the killings of two observers, Alex Pretti and Renee Nicole Good, who were filming ICE agents. The victims' deaths sparked widespread outrage, and Cory, a south Minneapolis resident, felt compelled to join the fight. Despite the dangers, he continued to document ICE agents' movements, even after being hit with pepper spray.
The resistance is built on a foundation of community engagement, worker unions, and a network of non-profits, faith communities, and advocacy groups. Neighborhoods that banded together after George Floyd's death in 2020 have reignited their networks, creating a powerful coalition against ICE.
Tens of thousands of Minnesotans have taken up the cause, using tactics such as car patrols, documentation, and community-led groups to defend their neighbors. The movement has also seen a surge in economic activism, with businesses switching to donation-based models and individuals donating to mutual aid networks.
The impact of the resistance is being felt nationwide. A recent survey found that 23% of likely voters had participated in protests or taken other actions against ICE, despite the risks. Local organizations have pulled off economic blackouts and large rallies, attracting supporters from across the country.
At the forefront of the resistance are community leaders, including women who have lost loved ones to ICE's brutal tactics. They are using their voices to demand action from local officials and the federal government.
As one resident, Lori Gesch, a proud "Granny against ICE," put it: "If they want to take me down β go for it. But I just wanted to show them I'm not afraid."
The fight is far from over, but the outpouring of support in Minnesota serves as a beacon of hope for communities across the country. As Cory, one of the initial observers who sparked the movement, said: "I don't think we can take our foot off the gas until we know our neighbors are safe."