To the editor:
We hope you have some sense of the horrors that have unfolded in Minneapolis since December, though it’s hard to know what people outside the Twin Cities are hearing. You may be, as we were before ICE began its occupation here, inundated with news of atrocities committed by the current administration, each one competing for attention.
Before this, it would be understandable if you hadn’t ever heard of Columbia Heights. If you’ve been paying attention for the last few weeks, you have heard of Columbia Heights, and for all the wrong reasons. We live in Columbia Heights. It’s really a remarkable town. It’s the kind of place that is affordable for young families and practical for people who work in Minneapolis. Our neighbors are 15 percent Latino (nearly three times the regional and state average) and largely come from Ecuador. Columbia Heights is where Liam Ramos, a five-year-old pre-school student, was detained by ICE with his father and sent to a detention center in Texas. The little boy with the bunny-ear hat and the Spiderman backpack goes to Valley View Elementary, where Sean’s daughter is a fifth grader. The school is two-thirds Latino.
There is nothing normal about life here at the moment. Throughout the region, some of our neighbors are sheltering in place because they fear being picked up by ICE agents, who appear with no warning at the grocery store, at school drop-offs and pick-ups, at restaurants, in your alley, and at your doorstep. Those sheltering rely on mutual aid volunteers to deliver groceries, medicine, and more. Others risk being picked up on their way to work and avoid public transportation or driving alone. That’s because one can easily be picked up from a bus stop or ripped out of a car and taken away. We’ve seen cars left at intersections and in the middle of a street, doors open. What happens next is that you get detained and are 1) placed on a “conveyor belt” and quickly moved out of state, beyond the reach of legal counsel, or 2) detained in squalid conditions for hours on end and then released.
It’s a filthy and efficient business, snatching people and whisking them away. ICE convoys include multiple large SUVs with out-of-state plates, sometimes with blacked-out windows. They descend quickly, and they come with pepper spray and guns drawn. Neighbors who are risking public execution help by blowing whistles and recording, and it’s a good outcome if they walk away only having their pictures taken and their license plates written down. Renée Good and Alex Pretti were not that lucky.
We’re grateful for a large network of friends and neighbors who care deeply about our community. They have reached out, checked in, and sent all types of support. We are lucky to be in the position of delivering groceries and giving rides to people going to and from work, and we are in awe of just how many people are all around us trying so hard to do the right thing. But here’s the thing—to paraphrase Renée Good’s widow—we have whistles, and they have guns. This stark disparity in power and resources is the fundamental challenge of this situation. Our efforts, while rooted in deep love for our neighbors, are often met by forces that are better funded and better armed.
It’s hard to describe what the current moment feels like for people in the Twin Cities. The scale of the economic impact and the psychological terror falls somewhere between 9/11 and COVID. But it’s entirely of our own making; it’s a man-made disaster brought upon us by our own country.
We’re sending this now because what’s happening here has crossed a threshold. This is no longer episodic or isolated; it is sustained, visible, and escalating—despite statements promising the opposite. We trust you enough to tell you the truth of this moment, and we hope you’ll help carry it beyond our city. No matter where you are, you can bear witness to what’s happening here, and you can speak up. The challenges we face demand a broader coalition and a collective voice. We urge you to engage with the reality of what is transpiring here. You have the power to bear witness to the events unfolding within our community, to understand the context, and to acknowledge the gravity of the situation. More importantly, we implore you to leverage your platform, your network, and your conscience to speak up.
Above all: don’t look away.
If you are inclined, you can donate to our community fund here. These funds pay for groceries, diapers, and medicine for our neighbors.
You could also venmo @Anne-Rubin-3 to directly support any number of people we know personally who are sheltering in place.
Finally, if you’d like to contribute to a gift for the teachers at Valley View, who are going to unimaginable lengths to care for children, please venmo @sdbroom.
Anne Rubin
Former resident of Williamstown
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