Editor’s Note: SK Lo is a resident of Minneapolis and the Board Chair of AAUC. As a Kumon instructor, she has worked with many Somali children and their families throughout the community.
By SK Lo
Minnesota knows winter.
We know the sting of subzero wind, the way the cold settles into your bones, the way silence hangs over frozen streets. But this year, the winter around us is not only in the air. It is in our neighborhoods, workplaces, and collective sense of safety.
This is a different kind of Minnesota Winter.
Over the past several weeks, Minnesota has faced two simultaneous storms: the brutal cold snap that defines our geography, and the sudden, aggressive presence of federal ICE operations in Minneapolis and surrounding communities. ICE arrived under the stated purpose of addressing undocumented immigration and alleged public assistance fraud involving Somali families, a matter that Minnesota state agencies have been investigating for years.
But what has unfolded goes far beyond targeted enforcement.
In just weeks, two U.S. citizens: Renee Good and Alex Pretti were killed during ICE operations, according to local reporting and eyewitness accounts.
Another protester was injured during a confrontation with federal agents. Community organizations and civil rights attorneys have documented reports of:
- Home entries without judicial warrants
- People pulled from vehicles during traffic stops
- Arrests at workplaces and community centers
- Children and elders separated from family members
Across the Twin Cities, residents describe the same atmosphere: fear, confusion, and a sense that the rule of law has been replaced by something unpredictable and unchecked.
It is no surprise that people are afraid to leave their homes.
Local businesses have reported steep drops in foot traffic. Grocery stores and clinics have seen reduced activity.
Even farmers, many of whom traditionally vote Republican, have spoken out publicly against the brutality and lack of coordination they are witnessing.
When Minnesotans across the political spectrum raise the same alarm, something is deeply wrong.
The situation has been further inflamed by a public letter from U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi accusing Minnesota of failing to uphold federal law.
Meanwhile, state officials including the Governor’s office and the Minnesota Department of Public Safety have stated that ICE has not coordinated operations with local law enforcement and may be violating constitutional protections.
The contradiction is stark. Minnesotans are left asking: Who is upholding the law? Who is protecting our rights?
And yet, in the middle of this fear, something remarkable happened.
On Friday, January 23rd, thousands of Minnesotans stepped out of their homes into the brutal –21°F wind to stand together and say, “ICE out of Minnesota.”
We were among them. Wrapped in scarves, holding signs with frozen fingers, we marched not because it was easy, but because silence felt impossible. The cold was punishing, but the determination was stronger.
Minnesotans have survived many harsh winters.
We have endured blizzards, ice storms, and weeks of temperatures that make the air itself dangerous. But this winter — this Minnesota Winter — is unlike any we have known. It is a winter of fear, of uncertainty, of constitutional questions that cut to the core of who we are as a nation.
And yet, even now, we hold onto something essential: the belief that winter cannot last forever.
Minnesotans know that beneath the ice, the ground remembers spring. We know that communities can come together in moments of crisis. We know that justice, though delayed, can still be demanded. And we know that the Constitution means to protect every person on this soil must not be abandoned in the cold.
This Minnesota Winter is testing us.
But it will not define us.
And it will not last.
In addition, a Hmong grandfather was arrested by ICE at night in underwear and sandals in bitter cold. He was a U.S. citizen with no criminal record
https://youtu.be/Fu4KR3bcDlw?si=5VoYf9DFc8-fbEa0
Released later without even an apology.