Vang: A letter to Kristi Noem after her visit to Minnesota last week

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Dear Secretary Kristi Noem,

Immigrants and refugees are not like your dog, Cricket. You can’t get rid of us just because we make you uncomfortable.

That might sound harsh, but so was your story — bragging about killing your own puppy because she was “untrainable.” It’s the kind of thing that sticks in your head when you see someone arrive in your community promising to “restore order.” It makes you wonder what kind of order they have in mind. Perhaps it’s the order that existed in Germany from 1933 to 1945.

I write to you from the heart of Minnesota — a place with one of the largest urban Native American populations, the largest Hmong community in the U.S., and one of the largest Somali diasporas. We’re also home to a fast-growing and deeply rooted Latino community whose businesses, music and family traditions stretch from Lake Street in Minneapolis to downtown Worthington. Together, we create a living mosaic that makes this state vibrant and complex.

My name is Ka Vang. I grew up in the Twin Cities. I came here as a Hmong refugee and experienced how churches, social service agencies and government offices helped families like mine find food when we were hungry, clothes for the harsh winters and housing when we needed it. Minnesota once prided itself on opening doors. But lately, your brand of politics has us double-checking the locks.

You claim ICE is targeting criminals, but fear doesn’t discriminate. When masked agents in unmarked vehicles show up at a roofing job in St. Paul, refuse to show ID, and take Latino workers away without explanation — that’s not law enforcement; it’s theater. These ICE raids are meant to destroy our children’s sense of safety, education and mental health. It’s the kind of thing that makes people keep their kids indoors.

And here’s the thing. You came to a state that knows something about community. As someone who writes about culture and belonging, I know the real strength of Minnesota comes from its welcome mat, not its walls. Our communities thrive because we embrace dual languages and multicultural traditions.

Minnesota’s history runs deep with people who fled war, colonization and persecution, then turned that pain into purpose. The Ojibwe and Dakota were here first. The Hmong came as refugees. Somali families rebuilt lives after decades of conflict. We are not perfect, but we have learned how to coexist through compassion, not control.

Here’s the most important point: Immigrants and refugees don’t just add color and culture. We add capital. According to research by economist Bruce Corrie at Concordia University in St. Paul, African immigrants in Minnesota collectively earn at least $1.6 billion a year and spend about $800 million annually in the Twin Cities economy. Statewide, immigrants contribute more than $22 billion to Minnesota’s GDP. And in St. Paul alone, immigrant households hold nearly $1 billion in disposable income while making up more than a third of the city’s manufacturing workforce.

In a study of Mexican Americans in Minnesota, Corrie estimated they had more than $4 billion in total income, giving them considerable buying power. This community contributes $23 million a month in rental payments across Minnesota, which amounts to a $276 million annual infusion into rental markets in greater Minnesota and the metro area.

We do not want ICE prowling our streets like shadowy dementors from the Harry Potter movies, sucking the souls of children and making adults forget their names and loved ones. We do not want fear as federal policy.

If you believe you stand for “law and order,” remember that order without humanity is just cruelty in uniform.

Minnesota is asserting that belonging — not deportation — is our default.

And you, dear Secretary, will have to learn to live with us because immigrants and refugees aren’t the sort of companions you can shoot and forget. We show up, we build business enterprises and invigorate neighborhoods and, occasionally, we even make you a delicious lunch in one of our ethnic restaurants. Try sending us back — we’ll probably just follow the smell of opportunity.

Sincerely,