Welcome to Minnesota — the so-called “State of Nice.” For ordinary Americans, that means free smiles, polite small talk, and a climate so cold it freezes problems before they start. But for the nation’s largest Somali community? It is becoming the “State of ICE” — and not the kind forming on the sidewalk.
The nearly 87,000 Somalis in the Minneapolis area are living a reality that is neither a dream nor a nightmare, but a calculated political limbo. The source of this anxiety is not abstract. It is a specific, planned Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) operation, first reported by The New York Times, that is set to target the Twin Cities. Teams of federal agents are preparing for a sweep focusing on Somali immigrants with final deportation orders, an action local mayors learned about from news reports, not official channels.
These wolves don’t howl at the moon. They howl at the word “immigrant” from the highest office in the land. The operation’s planning coincides precisely with President Donald Trump’s escalating rhetoric. He has referred to the Somali community and Congresswoman Ilhan Omar as “garbage” who should “go back to where they came from,” and stated, “I don’t want them in our country… They contribute nothing”. This, despite the fact that these very immigrants and refugees have transformed once-blighted areas like Minneapolis’s Lake Street corridor into thriving hubs of Somali-owned businesses, bakeries, and coffee shops. As community health worker Nasra Hassan put it, surveying the revitalized streets, “Where would America be without us?”.
THE SURREALITY OF LIVING BY THE NUMBERS
Here lies the first layer of the paradox. The political rhetoric paints a picture of a foreign, undocumented swarm. The data paints a different portrait:
· A majority are citizens. Approximately 95% of Somalis in Minnesota are U.S. citizens. Of the foreign-born, an overwhelming 87% are naturalized citizens.
· A community of Americans. About 58% of all Somalis in the state were born in the U.S.. These are the second-generation kids—born in American hospitals, fluent in English, cheering for the Minnesota Vikings—who now watch as their community is singled out.
· A targeted few. The administration has moved to terminate Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Somalis, a program that, as of August, covered just 705 people nationwide. The planned ICE sweep is expected to target “hundreds”. The scale of the fear is deliberately disproportionate to the stated bureaucratic targets.
Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey has vowed that city police will not participate, warning that such targeting means “American citizens will be detained for no other reason than the fact that they look like they are Somali”. Governor Tim Walz has dismissed the operation as a “PR stunt”.
THE GHOST IN THE LUGGAGE: CLAN, A STRUCTURE, NOT A MELODRAMA
As if this external pressure weren’t enough, the essay’s original critique of internal “clan theatrics” requires a crucial factual grounding. Clan affiliation is not merely petty politics or emotional baggage; it is a deep-seated socio-political structure forged in the crucible of state failure.
For decades, with no functioning central government to provide security or justice, Somalis have relied on their patrilineal clan and lineage for protection, resource access, and conflict mediation. This system is a rational adaptation to anarchy, but it comes with a brutal hierarchy. It privileges powerful majority clans with “long genealogies” and access to weapons, while structurally marginalizing minority groups. The U.S. Department of State notes that these minority clans face killings, torture, land theft, and severe discrimination, often with impunity.
This is the complex, life-and-death system that was packed in the luggage—not as a choice, but as an ingrained framework for social organization. Academic research confirms that clan-based conflict is a significant driver of displacement, with a strong statistical correlation to population flight. The danger in the diaspora is not that Somalis are “busy reenacting clan melodramas,” but that they might unintentionally transplant a structure built for survival in a lawless state into a democratic civic space where it can become a source of division.
The bitter irony is acute: while facing a political threat that collectively demonizes them as “Somali,” the community must navigate internal lines of division that trace back centuries. You cannot effectively organize against a monolithic label if you are fractured beneath it.
WDM’S VERDICT: FORGE A NEW CONTRACT
This is the moment of truth.
You cannot fight ICE, DHS suspicion, and presidential vilification while being divided by the ancient, survival-based logic of the clan.
You cannot protect your children’s future—a future where 50% are already U.S.-born—by applying a logic of patronage and exclusion from a homeland many have never seen.
You cannot demand to be seen as lawful, contributing Americans if your internal politics are not transparent and inclusive.
The call is not simply to “drop the clan.” That is naive. The call is to consciously, deliberately build a new social contract for the American context. The existing models are already here: organizations like the Somali Bantu Association of America focus not on lineage but on universal empowerment through ESL classes, citizenship prep, legal aid, and youth programs. They serve over 10,000 refugees of all backgrounds, building unity around shared needs, not shared ancestry.
A CALL TO THE DIASPORA
The era of blind trust is over. The wolves are here, their howls amplified by a megaphone. Your strength is in your numbers, your citizenship, your economic contributions, and your deep roots in cities like Minneapolis.
· Organize politically as Somalis and as Americans. Vote, lobby, and run for office not as representatives of a sub-clan, but of a united community with shared interests.
· Let your institutions reflect your reality. Build community centers, business associations, and advocacy groups that serve everyone, leveraging your strength for the common good.
· Tell your own story. Counter the narrative of “garbage” and “trouble” with the visible truth of revitalized streets, filled classrooms, and patriotic service.
THE FINAL WORD
Fear is not a strategy.
Clanism is not a shield.
Silence is not safety.
The Somali community in Minnesota stands at a crossroads. One path leads to being picked apart, both by external forces and internal fractures. The other leads to forging a new, powerful unity fit for the challenges of America. The choice is stark, and the time to choose is now. Because if you don’t consciously define your place in America, someone else will be all too happy to define it for you.
NOTE:
This essay has been fact-checked and revised with data from U.S. Census figures, reports from CNN, AP, PBS, and the European Union Agency for Asylum, and statements from local officials.
Warsame Policy & Media Network (WAPMEN) 