ST. CLOUD, Minnesota — When Abdi Daisane first resettled in the United States in 2009, he called family overseas to describe a freedom that felt radical after years in a Kenyan refugee camp: no one demanded to see his papers. In Minnesota, he didn’t live at a checkpoint.
Seventeen years later, as Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents surged into Minnesota in recent months, that assurance unraveled. Daisane, who owns Blooming Kids Child Center in St. Cloud and is running for an open state House seat, found himself slipping his passport into his pocket again when he left home.
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“Now it’s a bit different,” he said. “For someone who’s been in this country for 17-plus years now, carrying your documentation is just crazy to think about.”
Since the 1990s, St. Cloud has become a hub for Somali families who first arrived as refugees and later as U.S. citizens, business owners and students. The city’s Somali community — thousands strong — now sits at the center of Minnesota’s most visible immigration enforcement push, with detentions, frequent reports of ICE activity and a high-profile confrontation at a mall filled with Somali-owned businesses.
The Trump administration on Feb. 12 announced plans to wind down ICE operations in Minnesota. On the ground, however, residents say the federal presence has not vanished — and the fear it sparked certainly hasn’t.
“The longer we have this occupation, the longer we have ICE presence and this ridiculous enforcement, the longer it will take for people to recover,” Daisane said.
For months, the daily rhythms of St. Cloud’s Somali community have been punctured by what residents describe as fear and uncertainty. Parents passed on shifts. Children worried about whether their loved ones would make it home. Shoppers stayed away from small businesses they once frequented. People lost jobs.
“It has been a very heavy time emotionally and financially for our community,” said Amin Ali, known locally as Coach Amin for his years in youth soccer and now director of the Somali American Rights Coalition.
At Star City Mall, where Somali-owned restaurants, markets and boutiques line the corridors, tenants posted signs barring ICE agents from entering without a warrant, and even from parking in the lot. The mall drew national attention after a January incident involving federal agents and residents. It remains a flashpoint — and a testament to how enforcement has turned ordinary spaces into contested ones.
On a recent afternoon, Ahmed Abdi, manager of St. Cloud Somali Community Radio, scrolled through pictures and videos showing federal agents outside an apartment in nearby Waite Park. Despite the federal announcement of a drawdown, Abdi said community observers continue to spot agents. If tactics have shifted, the anxiety has not.
He also worries about what comes next. In the wake of the pandemic-era Feeding Our Future scandal and other Twin Cities fraud cases that involved some Somali Americans, former President Donald Trump and his allies have cast suspicion on the community at large — language that advocates say blurs individual wrongdoing with collective blame.
“There are a lot of false narratives about us, and that’s the biggest issue that we will have,” Abdi said. “It will affect our employment chances, because in this country, everything is about trust, right?”
Republican U.S. Rep. Tom Emmer, who represents St. Cloud, has echoed those themes. After once calling Somalis among the “fastest-assimilating populations,” Emmer falsely claimed in a Fox Business interview that Somali Americans were responsible for 80% of crimes in the Twin Cities. Community leaders say such rhetoric lands on a population already facing barriers in jobs and housing — and now confronting intensified scrutiny from federal agents.
Trust cuts both ways. In cities across Greater Minnesota, officials spent years building relationships to make government feel accessible and fair. That work, one local leader said, has been rolled back. When a mayor says you are welcome, yet the nation’s most powerful office deploys agents who make you feel suspect, which message carries more weight? The leader asked to remain anonymous, fearing federal reprisal.
The costs have been personal and immediate. Multiple interviewees described a rise in harassment of Somali residents — particularly women whose headscarves make them visible targets — in St. Cloud and beyond. Daisane’s child care center, unrelated to any criminal allegations, was inundated with harassing calls after a conservative YouTuber’s viral video claimed fraud at Somali-run centers in the Twin Cities. Strangers loitered outside with cameras. Staff trained for worst-case scenarios.
“It was a nightmare for a few weeks,” he said.
In December, a coalition of foundations issued rapid-response grants in St. Cloud and central Minnesota to help Somali and East African businesses reeling from closures, disruptions and workforce losses. “Our response is really focused on economic impact,” said Brian Voerding, president of the Initiative Foundation, which serves the region. “We’ve seen that in disruptions, closures, loss of workforce.”
Ali’s coalition is pushing for a broader recovery agenda that matches the depth of the damage. He wants targeted programs to stabilize small businesses and help people who lost jobs because of enforcement fears. He is also calling for expanded mental health services for adults and children processing trauma from the raids, rhetoric and daily uncertainty.
Abdi believes the work must center young people. They will live longest with the residue of politics that cast them as suspect. “Those are the ones who will deal with this false narrative and the trauma that MAGA is doing,” he said.
None of it comes with a neat timeline. “If you get used to things, then you’re gonna end up adapting differently,” Daisane said, worrying that life on edge could calcify into a new normal.
He argues accountability is a guardrail against that slide. “ICE came and terrorized our communities, violated our civil liberties, killed Minnesotans,” he said. “Two Minnesotans died because of them, and if we don’t hold them accountable, that’s going to send a message that the federal government can do whatever they please to the citizens of this country, to the residents of this country, and get away with it.”
St. Cloud, Daisane insists, is still home. Since moving from Nebraska in 2013 to attend St. Cloud State University, he has started a business, a family and a network for his mother, who doesn’t speak English. He is clear-eyed about the city’s shortcomings — and confident in its capacity to repair.
“We have seen a lot of an unwelcoming nature in the community,” he said. “We have seen people that were not excited to see immigrants coming here.” But the past months have also revealed a countercurrent.
“I also believe this period has strengthened unity within the community,” Ali said. “We have seen neighbors supporting neighbors, organizations stepping up and stronger community organizing efforts.” The coalition plans to keep convening forums, connecting residents to legal resources and coaching families on their rights — a mix of education, advocacy and solidarity that he believes will define the rebound.
What recovery looks like, community leaders say, is practical as much as it is emotional:
- Stabilize Somali-owned businesses through grants, technical assistance and bridge financing.
- Expand culturally competent mental health services for families and children.
- Strengthen youth programs and mentorship to counter stigma and isolation.
- Rebuild trust with local institutions through transparency, outreach and know-your-rights education.
“Our goal is not just recovery, but building a stronger, more resilient Somali community here in St. Cloud and across Minnesota,” Ali said.
That future, like so much else in the community, will be built in the in-between spaces — in a storefront cleared of rumor, in a soccer practice that runs on time, in a parent who goes to work without fear. “It’s going to take time for communities to recover,” Daisane said. “But we will eventually recover.”
By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
