Molly Mogren Katt is a writer and mother of two. This story originally ran on her post Hey Eleanor! on Substack. She lives in the Wedge.
“How’s everything feeling now that ICE is leaving?” a producer from a national news organization asked through my speaker phone, following up on a story I’d helped her with early in January. I thought about it as I bandaged my index finger, one of many cardboard cuts I’ve picked up while organizing thousands of pounds of donated food and hygiene products.
“I mean, I spent six hours today getting 400 bags of supplies to families, so I guess it feels the same.”
Wait — people are still sheltering in place?
I explained that while the overt chaos and violence may have ended, the ICE occupation has not. The week Tom Homan replaced Greg Bovino and announced the departure of 700 ICE agents, three parents at my kids’ school disappeared. ICE changed tactics. They’re quieter now, less dramatic, not the fodder that drives clicks and engagement. The news cycle moved on. We have not.
I’m writing this on Feb. 19. As of today, a team of six parents and a handful of educators from our school are distributing groceries, toilet paper, toothpaste and school supplies to 75 families every week. We’re working with immigration lawyers. We’re patrolling the streets. Last month, we covered rent for 70 families. This month, we’re aiming for 120. Most people need at least $1,000. You can do the math.
"Teachers should be focused on instruction, not learning the habeas petition process or scrambling to find emergency mental health services for children."
The version of me that existed way back in November last year would think there was zero chance of this happening to Minneapolis. The older, wiser 2026 version of me is Ted Lasso slapping a “Believe” sign. While we may share this planet with some despicable human beings (looking at you, Stephen Miller), the good ones outnumber the bad. I know we can help 120 families stay in their homes one more month. We’ll do it through Venmo, GoFundMe, T-shirt sales, small business fundraisers and pounding our networks with ask after ask.
But what happens April 1st?
May 1st? Beyond?
This is not sustainable. Our small but mighty group is exhausted, as is every other one just like ours. We are not mutual aid professionals. We’re regular people with regular jobs and responsibilities — cooking and cleaning for our own families, caring for aging parents, driving kids to swimming lessons. Teachers should be focused on instruction, not learning the habeas petition process or scrambling to find emergency mental health services for children. After rent assistance, help locating mental health services is our biggest request.
The children are not OK.
For the families we’re supporting — our kids’ friends and classmates — things are nowhere close to normal. Savings are gone. Jobs have been lost. And even if an employer is holding a position (restaurants, construction), many businesses are barely staying afloat. They can’t offer the hours needed to support a family. Parents are stressed about rent even though they desperately want to work.
These are people who survived war, famine and refugee camps.
Some spent months walking from Ecuador through the Darién Gap — a roadless stretch of rainforest known for poisonous snakes, disease, flash floods, sexual violence and gangs — with hopes of building a better life. I once thought I deserved a medal for road-tripping to Traverse City in a Chrysler Pacifica with two kids under five. These families have more grit in their pinkie nail than I have in my whole body.
Those of us with means, with privilege, must stay engaged. Before we pat ourselves on the back for showing up 50,000 strong on the coldest day of the year — which was incredible and perhaps the most Minnesotan thing ever — before we write our acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize we honestly deserve, let’s remember this is not over. The dramatic moments are gone. What remains is the basic, boring, unsexy work we cannot crowdfund our way out of. It’s time to ask our elected officials to match our effort.
Where to Start
If you’re wondering how to help, start by advocating for an eviction moratorium (do that here: http://bit.ly/OMSrecovery). This is not rent forgiveness. It would simply protect tenants from eviction if they cannot pay rent. Yes, we all experienced this trauma, but the only sliver of safety many families have is their home. How about we wait before taking that away from people who couldn’t work because of a paramilitary operation?
Please ask our elected officials to invest in ongoing recovery, especially in our underfunded public schools.
And in the meantime, even though we’re burned out and tired, please donate to the rent relief fund for our school’s Wolfpack Community Fund (https://www.gofundme.com/f/community-support-for-wolfpack-families) or Venmo me @molly-mogren. Our people need help. We are not giving up.
"Those of us with means, with privilege, must stay engaged."
Eviction moratorium
Add your name to the list of supporters for this moratorium here –
http://bit.ly/OMSrecovery
Donate to rent relief
Donate here –
http://www.gofundme.com/f/community-support-for-wolfpack-families
Or by Venmo here –
@molly-mogren
