Three Weeks, Thousands of Voices: Minneapolis Finds Its Footing in Protest Again

The protests began with a restrained gesture that was very effective. A tiny group at Cities Church in St. Paul stood in silent protest, unfurled handmade banners, and got up from their pews in the middle of the service. No shouting. No conflict. Only a demand to be noticed.

Minneapolis has gradually emerged as the center of an expanding opposition movement since that silent act. After Renee Good, a 32-year-old mother of two, was fatally shot by ICE, a very diverse coalition of people, including students, clergy, small business owners, and transit workers, joined the movement.

Federal officials refer to the deployment of almost 2,000 ICE agents around Minnesota over the last three weeks as “a response to sanctuary noncompliance.” However, many locals believe that it is far more intrusive. Activists and legal observers report fear-stricken communities and areas overrun with monitoring. In the Twin Cities, boycotts, marches, and sit-ins have increased in number.

It was especially noteworthy as Friday was “Economic Blackout Day.” The entire street seemed to stop. Numerous businesses founded by immigrants closed simultaneously. The grocery aisles froze. The clergy demanded a day of mourning. The buses were half-full. The city’s rhythm felt disrupted as well, but on purpose.

Student activists staged teach-ins at the University of Minnesota about constitutional rights and deportation policy. Nearby, a group of academics formed a chain between demonstrators and law enforcement by locking arms. They were both incredibly tangible and merely metaphorical.

Their choreography is what distinguishes these protests from one another. These are planned eruptions rather than unplanned ones. They are structured but emotionally charged, practiced but adaptable, like jazz, according to one local organizer. It reflects the lessons that Minneapolis has learned since Daunte Wright, George Floyd, and the numerous names that have been uttered during vigils held throughout the city.

Through the incorporation of community care into protest organizing, volunteers have made each event a genuinely shared space. They serve hot cuisine. Child care is organized. People are introduced not just by cause but also by name and neighborhood. It seems more like a group effort at healing than a campaign.

This degree of collaboration is especially impressive for journalists like me who are just starting out. I recall seeing two strangers, one carrying medical supplies and the other handing out flyers, automatically synchronize as though they had been doing this for years.

Federal authorities have intensified in the meanwhile. Videos of ICE officers employing tear gas at peaceful events have surfaced. Others show arrests outside daycare institutions and the vicinity of bus stops. Legal assistance organizations are overburdened with cases involving alleged systematic abuses of protesters’ rights.

In response, a federal court limited ICE’s ability to disperse protesters by issuing a temporary restraining order. Although there is still uneven enforcement, the decision has provided a temporary but significant degree of protection. Civil rights lawyers believe it’s a big step forward, but many are afraid of reprisals after the publicity fades.

State representatives have also come under fire. At least five politicians were subpoenaed by the Department of Justice. Although their precise responsibilities are still unknown, there is conjecture that the probe into obstruction may be expanding or that there may be coordinated opposition from state government.

Politicians who used to stay out of the spotlight are increasingly coming forward. The raids were described as “an uninvited occupation” by Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey. Despite his increased caution, Governor Tim Walz acknowledged that the operation had “dangerously escalated.” Even if his words were well-chosen, they conveyed worry.

On the other hand, churches have become the most obvious moral compass. “Our sanctuary isn’t sacred if it excludes the hunted,” a tearful priest told the congregation at a vigil in South Minneapolis. She broke off. Candles were lighted by many, who held them up in dedication to the living as well as in memory of Renee Good.

There have also been counter-movements in recent days. Outside City Hall, far-right activist Jake Lang tried to organize a crowd but was soon encircled by opposing demonstrators. His intended protest was over in a matter of minutes. He drove away in a stranger’s vehicle. Although authorities did not find any proof, Lang later claimed to have been stabbed. All that was left were his abandoned vest and a city unwilling to advertise his cause.

Despite the provocation, these protests have stayed unusually calm thanks to effective alliances between local institutions and grassroots groups. To discuss march logistics, legal updates, and surveillance trends, organizers get together every night. Their computer dashboards are similar to campaign war rooms, except that they have bulk trail mix, thermoses, and walkie-talkies ready.

Few cities have had as many flashpoints as Minneapolis during the last ten years. However, something seems to have changed at this moment—not in pace, but in position. The expectations are clear, and their execution exudes confidence, which points to longer-term goals and deeper roots.

What comes next will largely depend on local resilience and government restraint. over February, protests are anticipated to persist and may spread over the entire state. More emphasis is placed on sustainable presence by organizers than on one-off victories. “We keep us safe” is more than simply a phrase; it’s an ethos.

They don’t slow down even though the snow hasn’t melted yet. Protesters arrive with sleet-slick signs while wearing parkas and boots. In front of them, they chant till their breath becomes hazy. They’re focused but aloof. Not discouraged, but exhausted.

This isn’t a moment, they realize. It’s a movement that has already shown itself to be incredibly durable.