Trump’s targeting of Somali immigrants stokes fear and anger in Twin Cities

Reports that President Donald Trump’s federal immigration authorities will ramp up enforcement in Minnesota with a focus on Somali immigrants has stirred widespread fear in the Twin Cities community and beyond, and raised concerns that political rhetoric may soon translate into sweeping action.

Inside Karmel Mall, the commercial and cultural center of Minneapolis’ Somali diaspora, the shift was unmistakable Tuesday. Foot traffic slowed. Shoppers cut their visits short. Conversations revolved around where ICE had been seen that morning or afternoon. The familiar weekday bustle felt eclipsed by caution.

“He’s destroying the fabric of this nation, not the Somali community,” said Rashid Mohamud, 48, who studied political science in Somalia and earned an MBA in Wales before immigrating to the United States to work as an accountant. “The Somali community is his scapegoat.”

He said the president’s framing distorts both Somali Americans and the country itself.

“America was built on multi-ethnicity, tolerance. The Founding Fathers and those after them were thinking logically and systematically, trying to maintain the rule of law.”

The president has also intensified his verbal attacks, describing Somali immigrants as “garbage,” claiming they “contribute nothing,” and suggesting they should be “sent back.” His comments, made during a cabinet meeting as ICE activity reportedly increases across Minneapolis and St. Paul, also targeted Rep. Ilhan Omar, a U.S. citizen born in Somalia.

The escalation comes on the heels of another significant move by the administration: ending Temporary Protected Status for Somali nationals, a change that strips humanitarian protections from hundreds of people who have lived legally in the United States for years. Many Somali Minnesotans say the TPS decision, coupled with stepped-up enforcement, signals that the president’s rhetoric is already shaping federal policy.

At Zahra Café down the hall in Karmel Mall, owner Khadijo Warsame, 53, said her business slowed sharply after the president’s remarks. Several regulars told her they were afraid to be out in public while enforcement expands. Warsame, a single mother of three U.S.-born children who has lived in the United States for 27 years, said she supports prosecuting those who committed fraud but rejects being collectively targeted.

“We have good people,” she said. “It’s hard workers like me.”

She added that Somali Minnesotans contribute economically and pay taxes.

Warsame said many Somali immigrants cannot safely return to the country they fled.

“They don’t have places to go back to,” she said. “It’s a safety issue, economic issue. If you go to America and you go back [to] Somalia, you’re not safe.”

“I’m asking for him to change his mind about our community,” she said. “I ask the United States, Congress, government team, all of them: Do something for our immigrant Somalis, please, because they don’t have a place to go back.”

Sitting at a table near the entrance, Azizi Abdi, 49, a truck driver who immigrated as a teenager, said the Feeding Our Future scheme had already inflicted damage on the Somali community long before Trump invoked it.

“The people who are taking advantage have absolutely destroyed our community,” he said. “These few people took advantage of the system, yeah, and we all get blamed for it.”

He said most reporting on the fraud has ignored Somali victims.

“They talk about the Somalis who did something,” he said, “but not the 90 percent who were denied services, grandmothers, vulnerable people.”

“Anybody who doesn’t know that is gonna be a stupid guy,” he said. “He doesn’t care who’s [an] immigrant or not [an] immigrant. He just wants to get the numbers.”

Abdi said he has always believed in the rule of law.

“I absolutely love the law of this country. But there are some people who took advantage with a paper and pen.”

By Wednesday, tensions remained high in south Minneapolis’ Somali neighborhoods. Karmel Mall was even quieter than the day before. Most stores had not opened by 11 a.m., and sheets of paper taped to the doors read “No ICE enter without court order.”

A few miles east, the Minnesota chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations held a news conference responding to the president’s comments and rising community fears. Executive Director Jaylani Hussein described Trump’s remarks and enforcement posture as a “racist process,” saying at least one U.S. citizen who is Somali had already been detained.

He said families of detainees have reached out to CAIR-MN, and none of the individuals seeking help appear to have criminal records. Of an estimated 80,000 Somali residents in Minnesota, fewer than 1,000 are undocumented, he said.

Michele Garnett McKenzie, executive director of the Advocates for Human Rights, warned that the detention of citizens or lawful residents could trigger civil rights lawsuits. Efforts to single out Somalis as a group, she said, “violate the things we hold most dear in this country.”

“The toxic rhetoric that’s being weaponized right now against Somalis in Minnesota,” she added, “is truly advancing an agenda that is bent on ending America’s commitment to humanitarian protections.”

In St. Cloud, concern rippled outward. More than 100 people crowded a room at the St. Cloud Public Library on Wednesday afternoon to support the Somali community and other immigrants living in central Minnesota. Community members — loosely organized as a group called Beloved Cloud Community — had begun planning the event about a week earlier, but organizers said the president’s remarks made the gathering more urgent.

“This community is under attack — not only Somali Americans, but the very idea of who belongs in this country,” said Abdi Daisane, an entrepreneur and community advocate. “If you hurt one neighbor, you put every neighbor at risk.”

As of Wednesday, no large-scale ICE raids targeting Somali neighborhoods had taken place. But residents have reported discreet, swift operations across the city.

Jac Kovarik, a 31-year-old south Minneapolis resident, said they saw agents wearing Enforcement and Removal Operations vests as they questioned a Somali man who had to prove he was a citizen. The man told neighbors his brother-in-law had been arrested the night before and that he gave a bag of medications to the agents to deliver to him.

Across the community, residents adjusted their routines and waited — uncertain what would come next.

“I’m not scared of America,” Warsame said. “But it’s uncomfortable for our dignity.”

She looked toward the subdued hallway outside her café.