From Minneapolis

Snow and invasions

A few days ago, I was up by Lake Superior, on a reporting trip delayed by other reporting trips, when ICE shot and killed Renee Nicole Good, a mom and poet, in Minneapolis. I was supposed to fly home that evening, but extended my trip.

In the Twin Cities, I’ve attended vigils and protests, and interviewed people of all backgrounds about what feels to them like an invasion by the federal government. The Department of Homeland Security is in the process of deploying more than two thousand officers here: armed, uniformed, masked. There were dozens of them outside the immigration court and regional ICE headquarters during a demonstration on Thursday morning:

Last night, I rode around with a rapid-response volunteer who was following ICE vehicles, logging their license-plate numbers, trying to prevent what she called “abductions.” She sometimes parks outside immigrant-run daycare centers (Somali ones are under attack for alleged social-services frauds) as they send kids home for the day, just to make sure there’s no trouble.

There are mosque observers, public-school escorts, legal observers; the labor movement is heavily involved; the activist networks that preceded then grew after George Floyd’s murder, five years ago, are now thickly intertwined and busy.

“Parachute reporting,” yeah, more on that later. I’m grateful to be here, to see what this place has to teach all of us. A couple short dispatches:

• “An Ice Killing Puts Minneapolis on the Brink,” published today

• “After yesterday’s fatal shooting…,” from the day after

Here’s George Floyd Square:

And nearby Modern Times, an anarchist diner (with words for ICE) recommended by A.A., who welcomed me to her home in the city:

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On my drive down to Minneapolis, I got stuck in the snow (I’d stopped to take a photo, then foolishly dipped my two-wheel-drive rental sedan into mush), and no fewer than six vehicles stopped to help me. A UPS driver, despite the algorithm surveilling him, used his shovel to scoop me out. Two young guys and a woman my mom’s age got out to push as I reversed. An older guy got his rope ready in case I needed a tow.

By contrast, not a single Minnesotan helped these guys:

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R. sent me to this incredible former longshoremen’s bar in Superior, Wisconsin:

Mayday Books, in Minneapolis, has been managed by Craig, a Vietnam vet turned antiwar crusader, for forty-five years:

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In unrelated news, I wrote about Lee Lai’s second graphic novel and its themes of anger, caregiving, and public and private grief:

• “A Graphic Novel about Rage and Repression in Montréal”

And here’s a photo from the inauguration of Seattle’s young, socialisty mayor, Katie Wilson (Zohran of the West?):

She and her team talked about a new wave of young leaders, pushing back against gerontocracy and austerity. We shall see! Anyway, it was a treat to be home with my family for the holidays—the sun rising over Mt. Rainier; Mom’s mandoo; Dad’s pear vinegar and garlic.

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Some stuff I’ve liked recently:

• braised kabocha (eat the skin!)

• black ale

• old Chicago gospel

• “Ono Ono Girl’s Hula,” a weird, unclassifiable, anti-Asian American Asian American book, loaned to me by the ever curious A.H.

• Malika Gharib’s graphic-novel memoir about childhood summers in Egypt and the making of family

• The Fela Kuti podcast (except for Obama’s appearance, ugh); listen for my ethnomusicology mentor and co-author, Michael Veal

• “The Morning Show,” an Apple TV sendup of network TV news and #MeToo

• “Next Sohee” (다음 소희), a grim Korean thriller-tragedy by Julie Jung

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Happy new year + love from the chill,

Tammy