MINNEAPOLIS — The takedown happened in seconds: masked federal agents sprinting toward a 20-year-old Somali American as he stepped from a restaurant, forcing him through a doorway and pinning him against a metal gate. “Why are you running?” one demanded in the bystander video, despite footage showing he had stopped. Moments later, as snow gathered on his jacket, an arm slid around his neck and he was shoved into an unmarked gray SUV while neighbors shouted that he is a citizen.
The man, who asked to be identified as Mubashir for safety, was released about two hours later at the Bishop Henry Whipple Federal Building at Fort Snelling, after agents finally reviewed a digital copy of his identification. He was not charged. He says he was denied water and medical care during the detention, and that agents initially refused to look at his passport information.
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City leaders say the incident — captured on security and cellphone video in the Cedar-Riverside neighborhood — is an acute example of how U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement is operating in Minneapolis under “Operation Metro Surge,” an immigration enforcement push launched Dec. 1 that the Department of Homeland Security says has produced more than 400 arrests across Minnesota and other cities.
“You can’t tackle somebody because they look Somali without knowing who they are, what their name is,” Mayor Jacob Frey said after watching the video. “You can’t then detain them for purposes of immigration when they’re a completely legal American citizen.” Police Chief Brian O’Hara apologized to Mubashir “for what happened to you in my city, with people wearing vests that say ‘police,’” and said some recent federal actions appeared “questionable” and “unplanned.”
DHS, in a written statement, rejected accusations of racial profiling as “disgusting, reckless, and categorically FALSE.” The agency said officers were investigating suspected immigration violations in an area with “a high level of criminal activity” when Mubashir exited a nearby restaurant, “turned around and fled.” Agents had “reasonable suspicion” to pursue him and claimed he “violently resisted,” DHS said, adding a “large crowd of agitators” prompted them to detain him temporarily to finish questioning.
Mubashir disputes that account. He says he turned when he saw a vehicle pull up but stopped and stood still before an agent “ran at full speed” toward him. “I told him, ‘I’m a U.S. citizen. What is going on?’” he said. “I felt like I was getting assaulted, like I was getting kidnapped. If this is what’s happening to a U.S. citizen on camera, imagine what could happen when there’s no one around.”
Federal officials say Operation Metro Surge targets people with criminal records or outstanding deportation orders, describing those arrested as “some of the worst of the worst criminal illegal aliens.” But community advocates, business owners and local officials say the pattern on the ground looks different: stops outside workplaces and in shopping centers, questioning on sidewalks and in parking lots, and detentions that include U.S. citizens — with Somali and Latino neighborhoods shouldering the impact.
The operation has unfolded alongside increasingly harsh rhetoric from President Donald Trump about immigrants and Somalis. At a rally in Pennsylvania this week, he revisited his 2018 “s—hole countries” remark and told supporters, “We always take people from Somalia. Places that are a disaster. Filthy, dirty, disgusting, ridden with crime.” Days earlier, he referred to Somalis as “garbage” during a cabinet meeting, according to Somali and international officials, and vowed to “permanently pause” migration from what he calls “hellhole” and “Third World” countries.
The White House and DHS say the crackdown is about crime and border security, not race. Critics say the effect is that an entire community — including U.S. citizens and legal residents — is living as if under suspicion. “People who have lived here for decades are carrying passports to go to the grocery store,” said Minnesota state Sen. Zaynab Mohamed, a Somali American. “Somalis are the scapegoat.”
In Minneapolis, the chill is visible. Karmel Mall, an indoor marketplace that hums on weekends with families buying food, jewelry and clothing, has seen shuttered stalls since the enforcement surge began. Signs taped to doors warn that ICE cannot enter without a court order. Volunteer “block watchers” stand outside with whistles and cellphones, ready to alert neighbors if agents appear.
The fear spans Lake Street, where Somali and Latino businesses share the corridor. Some shops are dark because employees were detained, owners say; customers are staying home. “They are snatching people from the streets,” said Daniel Hernandez, who runs a market and restaurant on East Lake Street. He and other grocers in Minneapolis and St. Paul now deliver to families who are afraid to shop in person.
It reaches mosques and clinics, too. Attendance at Friday prayers has dropped. A nurse practitioner in south Minneapolis said patients are canceling appointments rather than drive past places where they’ve seen federal agents. Health workers have added telehealth visits and home calls to reach those staying inside. Overhead, residents have noticed circling helicopters; Customs and Border Protection confirmed its aircraft are “supporting federal law enforcement partners in Minneapolis” but did not describe how. Advocacy groups say the flights deepen the sense of being watched.
On Twin Cities campuses, Somali American students now carry passport cards, share real-time locations in group chats and stick to well-lit routes. At the University of Minnesota, a freshman who asked to be identified as Cho said she now tucks her ID into a wallet each morning. “Honestly, it’s really scary,” she said. “Even going to work, just driving, is anxious, because it’s that constant fear of being stopped and harassed.” At Augsburg University, where many students are Somali American, officials tightened building access and urged professors to be flexible. “A lot of us worked hard for where we are,” said Iman, a U.S. citizen freshman. “My parents started from the bottom.”
The American Civil Liberties Union of Minnesota says it has heard of at least a dozen U.S. citizens of Somali descent being detained during recent ICE operations, calling the pattern “unlawful racial profiling.” The group urges people to know their rights, keep documents accessible and safely record encounters when possible.
Pushback is mounting. At Minneapolis–St. Paul International Airport, unions denounced Trump’s threats against Somalis and criticized the airport commission and airlines for cooperating with deportation flights. “In the labor movement, an injury to one is an injury to all,” said Minnesota AFL-CIO President Bernie Burnham. “By vilifying our Somali American co-workers and neighbors, President Trump is attacking our state’s entire labor movement.” In Rochester, faith and civic leaders gathered under the banner “WE ARE HOME AND HERE TO STAY,” sharing food and stories of parents working overnight shifts so their children could go to college. “If Minnesota winters could not bully us, no politicians with a microphone can,” community leader Saleh Mohamed told the crowd.
Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz has asked Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem to review the detentions of Mubashir and other citizens and to place any agent who acted unlawfully on leave. “The forcefulness, lack of communication, and unlawful practices displayed by your agents will not be tolerated in Minnesota,” he wrote.
In Mogadishu, Somalia’s defense minister, Ahmed Moallim Fiqi, rejected Trump’s descriptions of Somalis as “filthy” and “ridden with crime,” praising the resilience and work ethic of Somali people. He thanked the United States for support against al-Qaida-linked militants but urged Trump to focus on his promises to American voters instead of “busying himself with Somalia.”
For Mubashir, who arrived in the United States as a child and later became a citizen, the city feels different now. He says he scans sidewalks, glances over his shoulder, and hesitates before stepping outside. “I’m scared to go outside,” he said. “We shouldn’t be targeted just because we’re Somalis.” Asked whether he has considered leaving Minneapolis, he did not pause. “This is my home,” he said. “We’re not going anywhere.”
By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
