Yuen: Has Trump actually ever met a Somali Minnesotan?

Has Donald Trump even met a Somali person?

The president’s remarks about Somali Americans this week were vile and racist. He referred to them as “garbage,” which was an astonishing attempt to dehumanize them. But his comments also rang comically untrue for anyone who’s familiar with the community.

“He called us lazy,” said Hodan Hassan, in disbelief. “I’m sorry — do you want to meet my mother?”

Hassan, a former DFL state legislator from Minneapolis, couldn’t help but laugh. She was reminded of all the times as a kid when her mom roused her out of bed at 6 a.m. on the weekends for no good reason. Most Somali Minnesotans I know are like that — disciplined, with a propensity to hustle. Their participation rate in the labor force is higher than the state average. Trump claimed they “contribute nothing,” “these aren’t people that work” and “they do nothing but bitch.”

That’s absurd. We in Minnesota, home to the nation’s largest Somali population, have a different reality. We’ve seen how Somali Americans have strengthened our communities. They have revitalized our main streets, educated our rambunctious kids, looked after our aging parents and heightened our spice tolerance.

On Wednesday, U.S. Rep. Tom Emmer erroneously stated that 80% of the crimes in Minnesota and the Twin Cities were committed by local Somalis. While he parrots Trump’s cruel hyperbole, it’s worth noting he once vigorously defended Somali Minnesotans who lived in his district. About a decade ago, the Minnesota Republican noted that Somali immigrants are “some of the fastest-assimilating populations that we’ve had.”

“When you move to a community, as long as you are here legally, I am very sorry but you don’t get to slam the gate behind you and tell nobody else that they’re welcome,” he said at a town hall meeting where St. Cloud residents pushed to ban Muslims from moving to their city. “That’s not the way this country works.”

I asked Hassan what Somali Americans needed now. Her plea to Minnesotans was simple: Tell the world about the Somalis you know. A kind co-worker, a generous neighbor, or “a doctor or nurse who went above and beyond to heal you,” she said.

“Please share your stories. It shows we have allies. Those small acts of kindness amplify.”

OK, here goes. I interacted with very few Somali Minnesotans before I started reporting on the community in 2008 after some young men had traveled to their parents’ homeland to join the terrorist group al-Shabab.

While many Somalis here were reluctant to talk about such a sensitive topic, I also encountered dozens of people who bent over backward to make sure I got a complete and accurate story. They did not sugarcoat the problems in their community. Over hours-long conversations over coffee and sambusa, they shared with me their culture, history and a desire to root out the truth.

“We’ve got to help this girl,” one college student said to his friends, a testament to both his generosity and my cluelessness at the time.

As a massive counterterrorism investigation got under way in Minnesota, some of its tentacles ensnared innocent citizens. I interviewed two men who broke down sobbing when they recalled how they were stopped by federal agents on suspicion of having ties to terrorism. One man was a community leader. The other, who was interrogated while traveling through an airport, was a Minneapolis cop.

“I’m out there to get the bad guys,” the officer told me through tears. “And I felt I was the bad guy.”

The overzealous questioning that Somali Americans faced back then shows what happens when a protective instinct bleeds into reckless suspicion. That’s where we are today. But now it feels even more frightening.

Many refugees who survived the trauma of civil war are being triggered by new reports that the Trump administration is cracking down on Somali immigrants in the Twin Cities. Tawakal Ismail, an imam in Minneapolis, said he knows of 11 individuals who were stopped by ICE this week, including two American citizens. Many are afraid to leave their homes. Those who have been citizens for decades are now carrying their passports as a precaution.

Ismail, who identifies as a conservative, supported Trump during the last election and encouraged residents in the Cedar-Riverside neighborhood to vote for him, too. This week he decided he could no longer back Trump or the Republican party. “I’m very disappointed,” he said.

Shortly after, she received a threatening email: “Fair warning, you are being hunted,” it said. “It’s time we take out the trash in this country.”

Hussein worries about her family’s safety, but her profession fills her with hope. About 40% of her students are of Somali descent. The kids brim with joy and innocence. They do not talk about what Trump said, even though the staff has been instructed to make sure every child feels seen and safe.

Now is not the time for the brand of Minnesota Nice that keeps people at an arm’s length. Check in on your neighbors. Offer to walk their children to school if the parents are fearful of being stopped. Write your elected officials. Document ICE activity. Notice who’s supporting Somali Minnesotans, and who is trying to divide us.

“I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for the Somali community,” Hussein said. “We don’t need to be rescued. What we need is for people to use their voice and to be good neighbors.”

That starts with countering the lies with facts. Now is the time to stand up, lock arms and simply speak the truth.