Today is January 8th, 2026. I’m writing after being at a protest at the Whipple Federal Building here in Minneapolis. After the death of Renee Good.
I’m not a published author, an influencer, or a well-known activist. I don’t have the skills to orate. I’m a coward in a way—it’s hard for me to get up and act, to take charge of my own destiny and help create change for a new, better world. But today I felt I needed to. I left work early, relying on the understanding of my boss and coworkers to the situation at hand, because I felt a moral obligation to go out and protest Renee Good’s death and the ICE activity in Minneapolis, the midwest, and the nation as a whole. I left work late in the morning.
I arrived to the protest to see a smaller crowd than I expected, but still about one hundred people. And there, standing at the entrance to the Whipple Building’s parking lot, were about fifty Border Patrol Agents. ICE. Not much occurred initially. Lots of folks shouting at the “officers”, asking them to identify themselves, remove their masks, asking who they were affiliated with. “Raise your hand if you’re a member of the Proud Boys,” one person with a megaphone asked. I saw a hand raise, and go down immediately. Another asked how many of these people were Minnesotans. I saw three hands raised.
There were other things said, some of which I didn’t agree with. The chanting and shouting about how these people’s dicks were small, that they were balding, targeting shorter ICE agents with taunts about their height.
My best friend, a writer and activist as well, once heard me disparaging Mitch McConnell in a similar way, talking about his body, as if it were disgusting. And she corrected me immediately, saying something along the lines of “We don’t attack them because of their bodies. We fight back because we see danger in their beliefs and their policies. Because some people look like Mitch McConnell. And we want them to fight alongside us too.” I understand why people would shout at them these things. Partially because it’s been shouted at us. Used to bully us, immasculate us, keep us down. We therefore associate it with the powerful as we reach into a well of what we hope is power, but only another form of shame. This body language toxifies our beliefs, and our fight. We’re better than it, and we need to realize it’s not helping us now.
This all may have been averted if there were trained organizers running the event. Knowledgeable enough to speak and hold a crowd with chants and speeches about the immorality of those armed people across the road. I want to be one of those people. So badly I wish to enact change and lead the charge. I type now instead.
I type because I saw a person disappeared. One older man went up to the “officers”, wanting to harass and attack them. I can admit that I wanted to be there with him. I have the urge to rebel against the injustice in the same way—“This is what they want, don’t bend to them,” some called to the man. To come back. We have a narrative that we are peaceful and non-violent. They are the criminals and destroyers of our communities—we get beaten and pushed. To prove a point. That narrative point. And when ICE pushed the old man, they swarmed forward, surrounding those who got close, surrounding one person who I saw surprised, then toppled to the ground. And disappeared. Some said he was a teen. I didn’t hear anyone say they knew him. So, what’s the use of narrative if we lose our allies to the depths of a federal building guarded with canisters of tear gas, rubber bullets, and walls of armed people? That older man should not have acted–we should in fact stay a united front. But that front needs to change.
If these people are acting against the constitution, if they indeed are domestic terrorists, as we shouted they were at today’s protest, then we have a right to self-defense, national defense. It is simply not enough to ignore the orders of the state, but we must also prevent those who do follow them from doing harm.
I end this post with a reminder and a question. I’m fallible. We all are. I’m writing this because I want to become a part of the community here in Minneapolis that fights for our neighbors. I want to hear people disagree with me and I want to start a dialogue with them. With you! How can we work together to make the change we want to see? What did you disagree with me about here, and can we talk through why and where we’re both coming from?