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This is the headline making waves this morning:
“Federal authorities announce end to Minnesota immigration crackdown”
Trump’s border czar Tom Homan reported this morning that the occupation of the state of Minnesota by ICE agents will come to a close with a drawdown of agents.
I live in Minneapolis. Nobody, and I mean nobody, that I have spoken with believes this. We’ve been taught to believe what we actually see with our eyes and to follow the data, rather than to blindly believe what politicians at podiums tell us. However, chats and texts are flying with rumors, half-verified information, and speculation.
Is this over?
Honestly? No. Not even close.
On the ground, in the city, around the state—we’re not letting down our guard. We’re in it for the long haul because not only has Operation Metro Surge caused bloodshed, agony, uncertainty, and incalculable trauma, it has brought us closer together as a community. We aren’t ready to put down our protest signs just because someone told us they aren’t needed anymore.
Our lives have changed and they won’t change back overnight, even if Homan is, for once in his life, speaking the entire truth—no holds barred.
He’s also saying the quiet part out loud. According to AP News, he has promised that “immigration enforcement won’t end when the Minnesota operation is over.”
That means that even if they drop their numbers here, they’re going somewhere else.
Often, change happens without us noticing.
It can be a slow, subtle shift. But there’s also another kind of change. The one that feels like a punch to the gut because one day, up is down and down is up. Nothing is the same.
Overnight, our very world is shaken. Rocked. And you’re left trembling with the realization that it might never be the same again.
In Minnesota, our lives have gone through a tectonic shift. The world is still shaking and we’re aware of the changes…even as they’re happening.
My own life hasn’t been shaken nearly as much as those of others, but I am not immune. Nobody I know is immune. For example, just the other day I was packing my bag with water, snacks, a whistle, my ID in an easily reachable pocket, and as I looked up, I noticed my mom’s hand. She was wearing her rings.
Without thinking, I told her to take them off and leave them at home.
“They’ll take them.”
When we got in the car, the location settings on my phone were turned off and I swapped my lock screen away from anything biometric—so that my own body couldn’t be used to open my phone against my will if it was confiscated.
These are just a couple small things that are now the new “normal” in this state, in my city.
I saw a Threads post about someone asking other Minnesotans what small things have changed in their daily lives or routines since the occupation, and some of the replies were chilling:
“Have daily chats with my 5 year old about what to do if we see ICE officers/what to do with her 1 year old brother if I get taken.”
“Set up a shortcut on my phone. If I say ‘Siri, quick! Capture Ice!’ It will record to the cloud, and send my partner and mom my location along with a text saying I’ve encountered ICE.”
“We had to have the conversation at work about where we are going to hide our brown coworkers if/when our restaurant gets visited by ICE. I never thought we’d be talking about Anne Frank kind of stuff in this country.”
“My husband and I take turns in the mornings and afternoons making sure our son and the other kids at his bus stop are safe, they’re in a pretty exposed area in our neighborhood. I’m also looking at every driver when I’m driving, in case undercover ice happens to be around. Phone is always at the ready to take pictures. On a happier note, I’m waving at and talking to my neighbors more. I just want them to feel safe.”
“I just turned off auto unlock on my car doors when I park. I didn’t even know that was an option, but like hell I am being snatched without a fight.”
“As a small business, usually on weekends I’m doing popup markets. Not now. Weekends are for protesting, organizing, mutual aid, checking in on friends and neighbors. I’m only making $ through Etsy sales now, which have never been that much, and am still donating a percentage to help community members far worse off than me. Thankfully I have a partner who helps keep the bills paid, but still… this was supposed to be a big growth year for my business… but how can I possibly focus on that now??”
“My heart stops whenever someone is at my door, god forbid they knock.”
“Write important phone numbers on the inside of my thigh with a temporary tattoo marker in case I end up in Whipple. They permanently taking phones away.”
“My car is stocked with whistles, know your rights cards, and cold weather gear. I patrol most mornings before work. There’s not an off day and my signal notifications are constant.”
“I never take with my dog with me anymore because I’m afraid if something happens to me, he would be lost.”
“My husband and I text each other location check-ins if one of us is out. ‘Arrived safely’ ‘Leaving {insert place} ‘In the garage/building.'”
“We carry our passport cards. Also: We generally hate eating out, but have made a point to support our local immigrant-owned restaurants. Having to go through locked doors is really, really sad.”
“When I drive somewhere I am hyperfocused on my surroundings looking at every car and license plate that goes by. My camera is open and ready all the time. I have a portable battery charger in my bag at all times. Anytime I am in public and see a person that doesn’t look like me, I scan the surroundings and watch until they have safely reached their car or destination. Any unnecessary subscriptions and purchases have been canceled and money now goes to mutual aid orgs/food donations.”
“There’s a pink cowbell in my car.”
“Whistle has replaced any other jewelry. I carry one credit card and my ID — I leave the purse I bought in Italy and the wallet my son and daughter in law got me for Xmas at home, and am getting a second phone so I can leave my real one at home.”
“I bought my wife and I bulletproof vests, and I keep my passport on the dashboard so I don’t have to reach into my jacket.”
“I’m getting harassed more by paranoid people while I’m delivery driving because everyone thinks anyone in an SUV is ICE.”
“I keep my weekly pill case full and with me just so there’s a non-zero chance I might be allowed to still have my medication if I’m suddenly taken.”
“Camo gives me the shakes.”
“My friends and I check in with each other several times a day, and we have emergency sheets for one another detailing who to contact if anyone doesn’t respond. It feels dystopian.”
“I no longer let my (brown) 13 year old walk to school alone. It’s exhausting.”
“I also wear hats more often and my hood up to try to hide because I’m Latina.”
“I wake up every night and lie there for two+ hours trying to calm my brain so I can care for my children IN OUR HOME.”
“I check the people over papers map and signal to see if I need to take an alternate route when driving with my toddler. I lock my car doors at every stoplight even though they are already locked.”
“There aren’t really ‘off’ days anymore? Weekends and evenings are for shopping, organizing, donating, delivering. Also, ordered a new wardrobe of political shirts to divert possible ice attention/anger toward me (a white woman) rather than POC around me.”
“Whistles in audience at Olympics are triggering.”
“Saved a bunch of money not ordering door dash because I’m scared I’d put someone at risk by ordering.”
“I keep a pocket copy of the Constitution and an expired passport on my dash.”
~
These small shifts and changes have become a new normal in our state, and God forbid they become a new normal where you live. Now is the time to stand up, speak out, and not just push for the end of the ICE occupation in one state—but to reevaluate how we, as a country, are treating our neighbors. This? This isn’t the answer.
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