Memphis versus Minneapolis: policing and community terror

How we got from targeting Somali communities to the "lynching" of Renee Good 

Activists confronted a group of Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers in the largely Somali neighborhood of Cedar-Riverside in Minneapolis, Tuesday, Dec. 9, 2025. image credit: AP Photo/Mark Vancleave

At this point, heightened ICE activity and state violence are pretty much ubiquitous. Ironically, The Lighthouse’s own public scholar, Charity Clay, was in Memphis when ICE descended upon it and in Minneapolis, her hometown, when the extrajudicial agency reminded us it is a murderous entity, with the recent murders (plural) of Renée Good and Alex Pretti. In this conversation, Clay offers a grounded analysis of why the city — particularly Somali and other Black and immigrant communities — has become a focal point for federal terror, racialized policing and white nationalist emboldenment. 

Clay’s thoughts weave through analysis and lived experience, challenging us to reconsider what solidarity looks like, how communities survive under sustained threat, and why healing, discretion and mutual aid may be even more essential than protests.  

Collier: All right. We know there is a lot happening across the country, and you’ve been incredibly generous with your time talking with through what’s happening — particularly what has been happening in Memphis. But as it happens, you were in Minneapolis when all of the chaos unfolded. To set the scene for people who may only be seeing headlines — who are trying to stay informed without being overwhelmed — can you start by explaining what’s happening? Why is everyone talking about Minneapolis right now? 

Clay: Sure. I’ll try not to go too far back, though we may get there later. 

In the immediate moment, a key catalyst was a public statement made by Donald Trump about the Somali community — calling them criminals and dangerous, saying they should be removed from the country. Making statements like that on a global platform emboldens white nationalists who follow him. It signals permission. 

At that moment, Somalis — and immigrants more broadly, including Black communities — became targets. The Twin Cities have the largest Somali population in the country, which made Minneapolis a focal point. Under the justification of those comments, ICE was deployed to Minneapolis, specifically targeting Somali communities, but also Liberian, Latinx and Hmong communities. 

What that deployment has looked like is terror: pulling people out of cars, attempting to enter schools and businesses, posing as civilians, kicking down doors, arresting people at work and in their neighborhoods. People are afraid to go to school, to the grocery store, to the doctor. 

The Somali community is a thriving enclave with strong businesses and deep roots. And terrorism — because that’s what this is — is not just about death. Terrorism is about fear. It’s about forcing targeted populations into compliance for social control, political disenfranchisement and economic exploitation. There’s also political context. Somali communities in Minneapolis have gained increasing political representation — Ilhan Omar being one example — and that mobilization makes them a target. Add to that economic narratives about welfare fraud that have been falsely attributed to Somalis, despite the reality that the largest welfare fraud cases in places like Mississippi were committed by white officials. 

The goal is to destabilize a community that is politically active, economically stable and socially confident — and to send a message to the rest of us: citizenship will not save you. Being lawful will not save you. The regime is demonstrating power by violating the rules openly. 

Black Girl Notes: Clay’s use of the term terrorism isn’t metaphorical. This usage centers impact rather than intent — terrorism as the deliberate use of fear to control populations, restrict political participation and destabilize economic life. This framing demands we shift attention from singular acts of violence to the cumulative harm communities living under constant threat experience. In Minneapolis, that threat has taken the form of raids, impersonation, surveillance and public displays of force, which impacts individuals and reshapes community behavior. 

Collier: Let me ask: why Somalian communities specifically? Why not Hmong communities? Why not Latinx communities? And how do we get from targeting Somali communities to the lynching — can we call it that — of Renee Good? 

Charity Clay: First, a quick correction: Somali, not “Somalian.” That distinction matters.  Somali communities were targeted precisely because they are largely made up of citizens — many born here, many naturalized. Targeting them sends a message that no one is safe. This is a test case.   Black Girl Notes: “Somali” (self- and community-identification that shows cultural awareness) vs. “Somalian” (foreign-created label). Read more here. 

Many Somali families came to the U.S. as refugees in the 1990s during the civil war. Their children are birthright citizens. And Minnesota receives significant federal funding for refugee resettlement — funding this regime is now eager to withdraw. Somalis are only about 2% of the state population, but they are politically active, economically connected and globally linked. That makes them visible and threatening to white nationalist power structures. 

As white nationalism becomes emboldened, violence spills outward. And whiteness doesn’t protect white women who defy it. When Renee intervened, she disrupted what whiteness believes it is entitled to do. That’s why she was killed and why she was vilified even after her death. 

ICE agents are deputized, not trained. They operate like modern-day slave catchers. And whiteness punishes those who betray it. 

Collier: Let’s talk about the differences between what we’re seeing in Minneapolis and what we’ve seen in Memphis. 

Clay: It’s night and day. Memphis is one of the Blackest cities in the country. Minneapolis is diverse, but it is still a white city in a white state. That matters. 

In Minneapolis, many well-meaning white residents have mobilized, putting up signs saying ICE is not welcome, attending bystander-intervention trainings, helping neighbors get groceries or pick up children. That kind of solidarity is real. But it also means something else: large numbers of white people confronting the state, framing it as government tyranny. That dynamic doesn’t exist in the same way in Memphis, where policing has long operated through traffic stops and routine harassment. People there already know to stay off the roads. 

And when local and state officials oppose ICE, as they have in Minnesota, it encourages citizen resistance. That, in turn, escalates repression. 

Collier: This may sound like a ridiculous question, and I don’t mean it in an oppression Olympics kind of way, but I want to ask: Which is worse? 

Clay: Minneapolis is worse.  

 It’s worse because ICE has detained Indigenous people in a city with the largest urban Indigenous population in the country. Worse because citizens are being targeted. Worse because protesters are being maced and shot indiscriminately. 

It’s worse because the mayor and governor have said, “We don’t want you here,” which turns Minneapolis into a battleground state. The regime wants to make an example of it — especially because Minnesota resists authoritarian control and holds significant economic power. 

Collier: I want to zoom out. When people say, “This isn’t my fight,” what do you make of that? 

Clay: It depends on what they mean. 

If “this isn’t my fight” means refusing to pay attention or be informed, that’s dangerous. But if it means recognizing where your role is and is not, that’s different. 

I wouldn’t encourage Black folks to physically confront ICE agents. But I would encourage mutual aid, protection and support. ICE has been given license to racially profile, and they do not know the difference between a Somali, a Liberian, a Ghanaian, or a Black American. 

Your citizenship will not save you. What matters is community — standing for human rights, even when the risk is real.