Did We Invite ICE Into Minneapolis?

The last few days have been unbearable. The new year has begun not with hope, but with grief — grief for a neighbor, a friend, and a mother. And grief for a country that feels like it is slipping away from itself.

It feels, at times, like we are living in a kind of civic zombie apocalypse — a place where cruelty is normalized, where fear is policy, and where basic humanity is treated as a political inconvenience.

Renee Good embodied the opposite of that. She used her privilege and her courage to stand up for neighbors who did not have the same protections she did. She did what we tell ourselves good people should do. She showed up. She refused to look away. And now she is gone.

As the daughter of immigrants who fled oppressive countries, what I am watching unfold in our communities feels like the brutalization of civilization itself. Free speech is chilled. Due process is treated as optional. Standing up for basic rights is framed as provocation. This does not feel like the America I was taught to believe in — or the one my parents risked everything to reach.

I can’t help but wonder: where does this end? Will people only realize how dangerous Donald Trump is when civilians are being openly harmed in the streets? What will it take for his supporters to finally say, “enough”?

And I can’t help but ask another, more uncomfortable question: did we invite this?

Minneapolis, Saint Paul, Chicago, Boston, New York, Baltimore, Denver, New Haven, Ramsey County — our cities sued the Trump administration. The lawsuits challenged the Department of Homeland Security and FEMA over federal funding conditions. I understood the impulse. I still do. On paper, it was about principle and the rule of law.

But let’s be honest about something we don’t like to admit: these lawsuits were never likely to go anywhere.

Everyone involved knows the barriers — presidential immunity, a broken court system, years of appeals, a Supreme Court stacked to protect power. These cases were always more symbolic than practical. They made politicians look strong. They made press releases sound brave. They gave people something to share online. But they were not going to stop Trump.

What they did do, however, was poke a vicious bear.

And when you poke a bear like Donald Trump, he doesn’t just swat back at politicians. He sends ICE into neighborhoods. He turns fear into policy. He uses immigrants’ very existence as leverage.

As someone close to many undocumented families, I know the truth of their lives. They are not asking for much. They want to work. They want to come home safely. They want to sit at the dinner table with their kids. They want to live without the constant terror that a broken taillight or a wrong place at the wrong time could shatter their world.

And yet we keep using their vulnerability — their Achilles’ heel — as a political tool to “stand up” to Trump. We tell ourselves it’s solidarity. But when the backlash comes, it’s not elected officials who pay the price. It’s families. It’s children. It’s people who had no say in the strategy and no protection from the consequences.

Let me be clear: I am not saying we shouldn’t protest — we should. And I am not saying Donald Trump shouldn’t be held accountable — he should be. What I am saying is that there are other, more meaningful, more effective, more strategic, and less emotional ways for people with privilege to use their power.

For example, we can pressure our members of Congress by calling and writing them, demanding they cut ICE’s budget or freeze its funding until a transparent, independent investigation into what happened to Renee Good is fully conducted — and until anyone found responsible for wrongdoing is held accountable. We can focus on the systems that enable cruelty, not just the spectacle that feeds it.

Yes, it’s good that we have organizations and neighbors who want to help. Yes, it’s good that people care. But there are ways to support immigrant communities that don’t paint a target on their backs.

And we also need to be honest about something else: we cannot reason with Donald Trump. He is not a normal political actor. He is driven by grievance, attention, and cruelty — and for years, we have given him exactly what he wants. Our outrage, our headlines, our constant reaction have helped turn him into the monster he is today.

So instead of feeding that cycle, I am asking for something harder and more serious: alternatives. Workarounds. Strategies that actually protect people. Ways to peacefully but effectively combat the damage he has done without making the most vulnerable pay the price.

So I want to ask our city leaders, honestly and without theatrics: what are we willing to sacrifice? And who, exactly, are we sacrificing?

Renee Good should be remembered for her bravery and her moral clarity. Always. But what do we say to her six-year-old in the meantime?

That this was inevitable?
That this is the cost of politics?
That their mother died in a game of provocation and power?

If this is what “resistance” looks like, then we need to start asking harder questions about whether we are actually protecting the people we claim to be fighting for.

Because symbolism does not shield families.
Press conferences do not stop raids.
And moral victories mean nothing if the most vulnerable are the ones left to pay for them.