Much of the essay below was written before I heard about yet another senseless shooting in our cities. Let me correct myself… before I heard about another execution: a killing carried out by federal agents who have been terrorizing the Twin Cities. This is utter madness.
Anyone who believes they are far-removed from this should bear in mind that if this can happen here, it can happen anywhere. Please take this seriously. Call your elected officials, spread the word on social media, talk to your neighbours.
We are shocked.
We are tired.
We are weary.
Our government is calling Alex Pretti, who was a VA ICU nurse, a domestic terrorist, just as they did Renee Good. If this is their definition of a domestic terrorist, then the government has effectively granted its agents permission to kill any one of us.
Don’t stand silent. Spread the word. This is critical.
A ‘normal’ life?
I don’t know about the rest of America, but I get the impression that for many of you, life may still feel relatively normal. Here in Minnesota, over the past two weeks, life has felt anything but normal. Personally, I feel as though I’ve been living in a constant state of survival, and I know I am only one of many.
I still live something resembling a ‘normal’ life — far more than many of my neighbors and people across the cities and the state, who are staying home because they are afraid of being taken.
Taken off the streets.
Taken from their cars.
Taken away from their families.
Regardless of whatever the news is showing — or not showing — there is so much happening. I want to speak to what I have seen and continue to witness.
“Love thy neighbor as thyself.”
That is what life looks like here.
Standing together
Yesterday, over 50,000 people gathered for a peaceful protest in brutal temperatures of -20°F/-29°C.
So many people are doing extraordinary things. Friends are organizing tirelessly to support those in need. One man — who himself is at risk because of the way he looks — began delivering groceries to ten families two weeks ago. He is now helping 150 families, with more to come.
People are donating.
People are delivering.
People are showing up.
It is absolutely freezing. The current temperature is -9°F/-23°C. But the cold is not deterring people from caring, acting, or standing together.
ICE has been very active in my neighborhood. Last week, helicopters flew overhead. A few days ago, an ICE vehicle drove slowly through our alley — an unsettling presence to say the least.
A five-year-old boy was detained by ICE and is now in Texas. A five-year-old.
Families are being separated. Children are being left alone at home.
What kind of immigration policy is this?
Intimidation.
Abuse of power.
Cruelty.
People are afraid.
It feels like terror.
It is terror.
A frightening experience
On a more personal note, this week has been especially challenging. Our furnace broke down on Monday night, and we were without heat for three days. When the repair workers finally came on Thursday morning and I returned to a warm home that afternoon, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more grateful for heat in my life.
That same night, a frightening experience followed. A friend and I were delivering groceries to families in need when, during our third stop, we were carjacked by a group of four to six individuals who appeared to be teenagers. It was already dark; they were bundled up and wearing masks, and everything happened so fast — maybe twenty seconds at most.
Keys, purses, wallets, phones — gone.
The remaining groceries — gone.
And, of course, the car.
The family we had just delivered groceries to open their home to us and let us use their phones to call the police.
The kindness of strangers
With the help of two incredibly kind police officers, and an impressive tracking system my husband activated immediately, we were able to recover the car within about an hour, only a few blocks from where it was taken.
Miraculously, my friend’s phone was recovered nearby, having been tossed out the window by the thieves. Hours later, thanks to a kind and honest man named Porter who noticed my phone lying in the middle of the road, and figured someone would be missing it, I was able to recover my own phone as well.
Our credit cards, purses, and IDs are gone, but, as the officers who cared for us reminded us, the most important thing was that we were safe and unharmed.
In that area, car thefts are common, and people do get hurt. With a mix of naïveté, rooted in white privilege, and the mental fog of extreme cold, we walked into a situation we hadn’t anticipated. Who would have expected that a group of delinquent kids were watching the streets on one of the coldest nights of the year?
I am deeply grateful that, amid chaos, kind people once again showed up and that we made it through unharmed.
Outlasting the moment
All of this is to say: Minnesotans are living through an extraordinarily difficult moment. From what I can tell, everyone is on edge. Life doesn’t feel normal, and bad things keep happening.
And yet, I witness it daily: people choosing resilience over fear, and showing up for one another in simple, concrete ways. That steadfastness gives me hope. It tells me that we will get through this, and that in the end, we cling to the hope that love and care will outlast this moment. I continue to pray that justice will follow.
This article was first published on Manuela Thames’s Substack, Undone, on 25 January 2026.
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