During Operation Metro Surge (OMS), thousands of Minnesota immigrants sheltered in their homes. They remained at home, terrified of masked agents on the streets. 

Sofia, a woman who withheld her name because of her immigrant identity and the possibility of retribution, participated in food delivery. On a particular delivery, she aided a “family that had three bags of garbage in their apartment.” She recalled, “Their garbage can was literally right in front of their building, just steps away, but they have been so afraid to run out and throw it away.” 

The fear was real. The City of Minneapolis released the Preliminary Impact Assessment & Relief Needs Overview, detailing the effects. Alongside the police killings of Alex Pretti and Renée Good, the city estimated that in Minneapolis alone, there have been $9.75 million in additional food expenses, and 76,200 additional potentially food-insecure people.

Thousands of locals have stepped up to help their neighbors. People like Sofia patched together a support infrastructure. This type of support structure is called mutual aid, a voluntary and grassroots movement that facilitates material exchange to meet community needs. 

Sofia started mutual aid by accident. It all began in a Facebook “Buy Nothing” group, a hyper-local network to give away needed goods. She offered to pick up groceries and was soon flooded with messages. 

She left many unread, knowing “if I read them, I would want to help them too.” Soon after, she spoke with her husband. They decided they needed to help immigrants at home by delivering food.

She thought it would be temporary. She thought it would just be a week. Soon, she realized, “I just couldn’t stop. I had to keep going.” The food began to take over her home. “I started bringing everything into my living room, and I couldn’t see half of it.” 

To create more space, she moved the food into the garage and purchased materials. She said, “We moved everything, diapers, wipes, perishables, and non-perishables. We have two long coolers. We have every type of meat, egg, and milk in there. It takes up half of my garage.”

Others felt an intense call to action. MPR News reported that nearly 30,000 people were trained as constitutional observers in Minnesota. Many people felt called to the streets, but others felt obligated to help in less immediately visible ways.

Lucille Gudmestad, a senior at Southwest High School, drove her immigrant coworkers to work and delivered food. She said, “This is something within my range of ability. There was no hesitation.”

Lindsay, an English as a Second Language teacher, asked that her last name be withheld due to fear of retribution from her school district. For her, it was not a question of whether she should help, but how. “It just wasn’t an option not to do something.”

Lindsay said that her school district forbade teachers from providing mutual aid to students at home or from expressing anti-ICE sentiment to students. Lindsay responded, “I’m just breaking the rules,” organizing “a lot of independent fundraising… underground and hush-hush.”

She began helping her students stranded at home tirelessly: “I’ve worked 12 hours every day. When I get home, I’m organizing who needs what, which families need what, making sure that they have a safe contact person who can deliver.”

In the surge’s environment, the emotional toll was heavy. The City of Minneapolis assessed that 8,713 school-aged children may need mental services due to OMS. Many of those kids were trapped in their homes, waiting for mutual aid.

Sofia recalled a delivery where “the kids were out on the window just looking. Once they saw us pull up with their grocery box, they were jumping up and down. Mom and Dad came down and grabbed their box. They were very thankful. We could see the kid, grabbing, trying to help their parents carry the box.” After the donation, “when we got in the car, my husband broke down.” 

Alice, a local education professional, only saw slivers of life inside the homes. Alice asked that her name be redacted, fearing retribution against the organizations she aids. She said, “It’s not until we’re almost gone that someone will kind of crack the door open.” 

On a separate delivery, Sofia recalled a woman who only called her when her family “wasn’t going to have enough for breakfast.” Lindsay said many immigrants are very reluctant, “Sometimes there is embarrassment about accepting a donation.”

After local and national protests, outcry, and two killings, public approval shifted. On Feb. 12, White House border czar Tom Homan announced to the media OMS’s end. In a March YouGov poll, 50% of Americans supported abolishing ICE. What remains for many is brokenness. The City of Minneapolis’s report estimated $203 million in damages from OMS. For others, something else underneath grows.

Lindsay said, “I’ve seen so many people rise up. This is a terrible moment, but we are becoming a better place as a result of it.”