Report from the Occupied City of Minneapolis: The Chilling Impact of ICE Operations
I am on the ground in Minneapolis, witnessing a city transformed by fear and uncertainty.
The killing of Renee Good occurred just minutes from my home and Alex Pretti just a few blocks further—a vivid reminder of the pervasive violence that now shadows even the most familiar corners of this beautiful, loving community. I have lived in this city since 1980. We pride ourselves on being a progressive, welcoming place, where diversity is celebrated and kindness is the norm. Today, that sense of safety and belonging feels far away.
The atmosphere here is heavy with anxiety. Many residents, particularly those from Hispanic backgrounds, are afraid to leave their homes, even for essential tasks like buying food. I am one of those old-fashioned people who still receive a daily paper at my door. Just this week I received a heartfelt letter from the Hispanic couple who delivers my newspaper, apologizing for missed deliveries out of fear for their safety. Their words echo the sentiments of countless others, including workers, students, and worshippers who now avoid workplaces, businesses, schools, and churches. The threat of ICE operations has cast a long, dark shadow over everyday life here, prompting many to stay indoors and isolate themselves from the community that we all love.
The local economy is also visibly suffering. Minority-owned businesses, once vibrant centers of commerce and culture, are now struggling as customers and employees alike stay away. Widespread stories of raids and detentions have sent shockwaves through the business community, leading to reduced economic activity and loss of income for families dependent on these establishments. The ripple effect extends to schools and churches, where attendance has plummeted, further eroding the social fabric of our city.The current climate in Minneapolis evokes troubling historical parallels. The fear, the suspicion, the sense of being watched and hunted. These are not memories from another time and place, but realities faced by our community today. The indiscriminate nature of the operations here leaves no one untouched, and the psychological toll is immeasurable. It is unspeakable that such conditions exist in a city known for its openness and progressive values.
As if the social and economic challenges were not enough, Minneapolis is now gripped by the bitter cold of winter. The national news reported last night that the city streets were quiet. Well, no kidding. It was 4 below zero. We are used to the cold, but combine that with ICE, and the effect on the community is unbearable.
Minneapolis is enduring an occupation of fear and uncertainty, its people held captive not just by ICE operations but by a loss of trust, security, a safe home and a stable workplace. Good people are afraid, and the damage to our community—socially, economically, and emotionally—is profound. It breaks my heart to see what is happening here.
Reliable reports place the percentage of undocumented immigrants in Minnesota at 1.5 percent. That’s right, 1.5 percent. Despite that low number, we are being targeted. Minneapolis is a politically progressive city, the first district in the country to elect a Muslim representative to Congress. The relationship between our politics and the target on our back is unmistakable, and that should make us all consider where we are and what we need to do.
Written By James Kaster, Founder and Chair of Stand Up For Workers and Partner at Nichols Kaster in Minneapolis.
