In early February, a delegation of nearly 60 Minnesotans stepped away from their lives to travel to Washington, D.C., and demand that lawmakers get ICE out of Minnesota. Amidst what they described as a war zone, they showed up to demand better, to demand safety, and to protect their neighbors.  As Congress remains at an impasse about whether to keep funding this violent force, their stories reverberate in our heads.

There was Christin, a mom who stood feet away from Bovino outside of her kid’s school as he held a pepper spray can. I heard her describe the fear of ICE showing up to the school just hours after Renee Good was murdered. 

I talked to Anna, who maintains her day job while also running the largest mutual aid organization in the Twin Cities to get food and necessities to her neighbors. She described seeing families who are starving because they just don’t have money to eat, or are too afraid to leave home. She talked about how families are months behind on rent, but also how neighbors are paying it forward where they can. Anna is also a person of faith and believes her faith calls her to not just step in and help her neighbors, but to protect the most vulnerable and speak out against injustice.

Pastor Oscar shared the stories he’s heard from his congregation, the anxiety and fear they live with and how this moment is about humanity. 

Tiffany, a child care provider, talked to me about the shifts in her students’ mental state. They used to be happy, carefree kids who laughed and played. Now, they are constantly watching the clock, anxiety building inside their little bodies every time a parent is late to pick them up. 

Peg described how it feels to be an educator in her school district right now, trying to keep a sense of normalcy for her students, but dealing with immense grief as desks sit empty, attendance rosters are dwindling, and students deal with the presence of ICE in their community. She knows that each of these young people deeply feels the impacts of what’s happening in their neighborhoods, and they will be lasting. 

I met small business owners who were doxed for delivering hot meals to protestors — barraged with negative reviews. One had to lay off employees because business has slowed so much — not because of the trolling, but because the local economy is suffering with so many community members in hiding. 

I talked to immigrants who have had to move into safe houses because of the work they are leading in protecting undocumented immigrants from ICE. One woman named Aaliyah shared how her life has changed since her dad was deported; how her brothers’ lives will be so different without his presence.  Paola’s dad was also deported. She shared how getting to her university is a precarious endeavor that jeopardizes her life daily. Her friends have been detained and deported, too. 

Brandon was pepper-sprayed and detained for eight hours at Whipple. He watched how federal agents humiliated women in detention, and laughed at others.  Patty described how the past month or so has felt since she was violated and detained by ICE — she speaks about how they pepper-sprayed the air vents in her car, dragged her from her vehicle, and kept her in a cell with no way to contact help or access a bathroom. There’s been an emotional toll — feeling scared, uncertain, and targeted by federal agents. But she’s also been channeling her experience into continued advocacy for others, and she’s refuses to be bullied out of doing what is right. 

That was the common refrain, amongst all of the fear, anger, and sadness — that this diverse community of backgrounds, ages, and occupations would fight for each other until the end. And not only did they vow to organize until ICE was out of their community, but until ICE is out of all communities around the country — abolished once and for all. Around the country, the movement to abolish ICE is becoming more popular. But even more importantly, it’s building political power to create new systems where we’re all safe, cared for, and in community.