Wynne Yelland is an architect and California transplant. He lives in the Page neighborhood.
A City Marches in the Cold
Friday afternoon, in the coldest temperatures the Twin Cities has seen since 2019, an estimated 50,000 Minnesotans gathered at The Commons, the downtown park west of U.S. Bank Stadium, where the Vikings play.
Sixty years in, the team has yet to win a Super Bowl, but fans still show up. We know something about struggle here. It was 15 below and thousands still took to the streets, doing what little they could to oppose what many see as an unlawful and aggressive federal occupation of our city.
The crowd was riled up and occasionally shouting, but still unmistakably Minnesotan. Angry? Yes. Violent? No. When someone bumped into you, they usually stepped aside, apologized or said “excuse me” and offered directions to the volunteers handing out free hand warmers.
Protesters lifted handmade signs, including riffs on Minnesota Nice such as “Minnesota Nice Doesn’t Include ICE.” Signs rose and fell in the crowd as chants rolled through the cold. People admired costumes, stamped their frozen feet and waited for the march to begin.
I was one of them. I am a California transplant who has lived here longer than anywhere else. Whatever that makes me — immigrant, inter-immigrant, or something in between — I stood with these neighbors. For their dignity. For each other. For purpose. After more than an hour, when the march finally moved west, I was grateful to feel my toes again.
Signs, Chants and a Minnesota Sense of Humor
A kid on his father’s shoulders held a sign reading “EAT S—” with a face inside a toilet seat that looked like either Donald Trump or Stephen Miller. The sentiment was clear even if the phrasing was crude. Hundreds of “F— ICE” signs dotted the crowd. “ICE Agents Are Stinky Butts” read another. The most common chant:
Call: ICE out!
Response: F— ICE!
Minnesota is the home of Fitzgerald and Louise Erdrich, so perhaps we could use better material. And nobody literally wants to “f— ICE.” Not I.
Some signs showed creativity. “DE-ICE OUR STREETS” worked well in a winter like this. “HANDS OFF MY TEACHERS” made me smile, even if its connection to ICE was unclear.
“NOT A PAID PROTESTOR” felt about right. “ICE OUT,” for most Minnesotans, describes spring when the lakes open after winter. For many, it now means we want federal agents gone. January is a long way from spring but people were imagining sunlight anyway.
A woman with a small megaphone chanted “Kristi Noem is a bow-legged ho!” to delighted onlookers. Nearby, giant puppets of Donald Trump and Kristi Noem moved through the crowd, reminiscent of the old MayDay Parade from In the Heart of the Beast.
Puppet Noem wore a cowboy hat reading “F— ICE.” Maybe that explained the chant. I didn’t ask.
Warming Up at the Library
My friend Dan and I stepped into the Central Library to warm up with dozens of fellow “domestic terrorists,” as some federal officials call us.
Police officers at the entrance asked protesters to remove face coverings and pointed to the restrooms. People complied. Lines stretched down hallways.
Protesters sat on the floors massaging frozen feet. Voices dropped to a hush out of respect for families using the library. The swearing stopped entirely.
For a group allegedly weaponizing vehicles or preparing a massacre at a doughnut shop, we were remarkably polite.
Outside, hundreds of officers and security staff guided traffic. I saw no one threating them or pushing barricades. It made me wonder how many pardons would be needed to release these so-called agitators in a future administration. Apparently none.
Once warm, we finished the mile-long walk to Target Center. Dan complimented everyone with artistic posters. A man dressed as Darth Vader wearing a feathered headdress lifted his mask to tell us he works in youth theater.
He smiled and drifted back into the crowd, possibly toward the tamale stand or the library restrooms. Thousands of people were out practicing civic responsibility together. No agitators. No obstructionists. No one doing anything illegal.
A Glimpse of Hope
In The New York Times on Jan. 25, reporter Charles Homans recounted a Minneapolis story I keep returning to.
A week before the march, a transgender woman helped Edward Jacob Lang escape a beating in front of City Hall. Lang had received a Jan. 6 pardon. He ducked into her car while fleeing. She told him she did not support him politically, but she helped anyway.
Two people who appeared to have opposite values still chose decency. She made the decision many parents teach their children: be good, assess the moment, and do the right thing.
That is who we aspire to be in Minnesota and across communities everywhere. I am tired of being demonized for empathy or for questioning authority, especially when that authority demonstrates so little of its own.
The Fear Today
There were 50,000 people in the crowd, likely most of them liberal, progressive or Democratic. Were some carrying legal firearms? Possibly. No one was shot or assaulted. The worst offense was strong language, as my father would call it. I never once worried a protester might spray chemicals, pin me to the ground or kill me.
I do worry that people employed by my government might.
In the past month, ICE agents in Minneapolis have repeatedly been filmed using aggression and force — sometimes lethal — against U.S. citizens and undocumented residents alike.
At press conferences, DHS officials cast us as violent actors protecting violent criminals. They argue that our mere presence is obstruction. This is the definition of misinformation.
These federal employees are well compensated with our tax dollars. These paid agitators are harassing our neighbors and us — with our money.
Power and Force
In a recent interview with Jake Tapper, Stephen Miller spoke about Greenland and said, “We live in the real world, Jake, that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power.”
Not laws. Not freedom or liberty. Not sovereignty. Not the Constitution conservatives used to cite. I want to believe Miller was also taught to do the right thing. As my kids say, I’m not feeling it.
Seventeen hours after I returned home from the march, Alex Pretti — an ICU nurse at the VA hospital — became the second person shot and killed by ICE in Minneapolis this month.
He was shot 10 times at point-blank range after being beaten. By strength, force and power. By people wearing masks, accountable primarily to themselves, who investigate their own and claim immunity. They say they cover their faces for safety. Really? Because when they shoot, they shoot to kill.
A Community in Mourning
My wife, a friend and I visited the memorial forming around the parking space where Pretti died. It was somber and tight with candles, handwritten notes and wreaths.
A choir of nurses sang. Others prayed. Speakers asked the crowd to remember his bravery. I thought of his last moments, face down on the cold pavement, knowing he would not get up.
During a quiet moment, a man outside the circle yelled at Minneapolis police officers who were stationed to keep order. “They are part of the problem. They are complicit!” The crowd responded softly with, “Go away.”
I wasn’t sure whether they meant him or the officers. I was glad the police were there; the scene felt fragile. Cars crawled past. Were they mourners or something worse?
Someone started singing “Amazing Grace.” Only two or three knew the lyrics by verse three, but people hummed along.
A Latina woman spoke at length, thanking Minneapolis for supporting her community. She cried while describing a pregnant friend afraid to seek medical care.
Her son kneeled in the snow lighting a candle. The crowd told her, “We’re so glad you’re here,” and “You’re brave,” and, “Thank you for sharing.”
A friend of Pretti spoke next, dissolving into tears as he struggled to describe the loss. “How will this end?” he asked. Someone answered “Love,” though it was the only reply.
When he could no longer speak, people he had never met embraced him. A woman in a red coat moved through the memorial rearranging flowers and hugging each speaker.
It was beautiful and painful. Renee Good and Alex Pretti were trying to do what was right. They were killed for believing that helping one another matters more than force.
What Comes Next
To all my fellow Americans, I hope this traveling circus and its cowgirl ringmaster skip your town.
If they do come, hand them a copy of the Constitution and patiently explain what it means. Start with habeas corpus. They still do not seem to understand it.
