Birthplace

Years ago if you asked me about Minneapolis, memories would rush back; one of stress-free youth, and child-like wonder... My siblings and I sneaking into the kitchen early in the morning, climbing up onto the countertops to steal our iPads and play Minecraft. Winters where our neighbor's basketball court was filled with ice, the place where we slowly but surely learned how to skate. Uniforms and charter school, proudly saying the Pledge of Allegiance in Latin each morning. Wonderful, joy-filled memories.

Unfortunately, due to brutality, gun violence, and unlawful actions by ICE agents, this is no longer what Minneapolis evokes. Five and a half years ago, with the cold-blooded murder of George Floyd, a Minneapolis police officer taught me what police brutality truly was. Six months ago the Annunciation Catholic Church shooter injured twenty-nine people, killing two young children- showing us that not even our churches could be a safe haven or escape from gun violence. And five days ago, the unlawful, public execution of Renee Nicole Good showed us that Nobody- not even a white, natural born citizen and mother, legally spectating in her car- is safe from the violent, malicious actions of ICE. These are what memories Minneapolis brings forth today.

In the past three days, I have attended four protests in Pittsburgh where I have seen people from all walks of life come together and fight. Fighting for immigrant rights, for the abolition of ICE, for no war on Venezuela, for the arrest of Johnathan Ross, for No Kings in America, for justice, for peace. The past days have reminded me of people's innate compassion, protectiveness, and humanity. And I hope by sharing my experience, I can help remind you as well.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 7TH

My first reaction when hearing about Renee Nicole Good's death was one of outrage, and shock (Quick note: I will be repeating Renee Nicole Good's full name as I speak about her, to uphold respect, remembrance, and empowerment). I quickly did my research, and began watching, analyzing, and reading every bit of information about the tragedy that I could find. As I read, I saw a picture of Renee Nicole Good's car that instantly brought me to tears; amidst the blood and shattered glass, the passenger glove box was open, with her young child's stuffed animals poking out. What a heartbreaking site. Just blocks away from where George Floyd was brutally murdered- Renee Nicole Good was shot, her final words: "Its okay. I'm not mad at you." What a terrible moment for our country.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 8TH

I was up far too late that night, trying to learn as much as I could, finally going to sleep around 3AM. When I awoke past noon I felt numb, stuck in a dark sadness, without motivation to do anything.

For hours, I scrolled on Instagram, reading every new post about Renee Nicole Good's death and felt hot rage growing in my soul. Republican news stations called her a "trained agitator," saying she was someone with "pronouns in her bio"- as if that was a reason to be executed. Trump tweeted calling Renee Nicole Good's death a product of the "radical left," and claimed she tried to kill the ICE agent who shot her. Even with clear video evidence, Republicans tried to spin the story into one of "necessary" gun violence. I can just feel George Orwell turning in his grave right now, as if "1984" wasn't enough of a warning for us;

"The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command."

After hours of falling down this never-ending rabbit-hole of news, my friend asked me to go with her to the art store, rebooting my motivation. During my research, I had bookmarked several Pittsburgh protests for upcoming days, marking them on my calendar as I went. This art store plan sparked the growing fire within me and reminded me of the power I had; even if it was just the simple act of making Anti-Ice, Anti-Violence posters.

When we got back home with our supplies, I planned out the events I would attend, the first of which was the following morning. Given the event was a Vigil to honor those lost because of ICE, with prayers and hymns, my mother immediately agreed to accompany me, and I began making our first poster.

On the first side, Leviticus 19:33-34:

“‘When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God.'"

On the back, "NO MORE VIOLENCE, NO MORE HATE, IMMIGRANTS make America GREAT."

FRIDAY, JANUARY 9TH

My mother and I left at 7AM on Friday to drive into Pittsburgh for the Vigil. The event was hosted by the Pennsylvania Interfaith Impact Network and was held outside of the Pittsburgh ICE facility. When we arrived around 8:00AM, we drove right past the ICE building- unsure of which one it was. You would think a place where such inhumane acts are carried out on a daily basis would stand out, look haunted, or at least be labeled. But no, the building was a quaint, unassuming building with redbrick and blue tinted windows through which you could see desk-plants flourishing. It was uncannily normal, as if it was purposely trying to seem safe and inviting.

After a couple of failed parking attempts, we got out and joined the small gathering, although we were definitely a bit early. As we stood admits these advocates, my mother made a comment "I wasn't expecting it to be only older people." And she was right; Beside us were older women and men, each holding some sort of poster, flag, or flier. As we looked from face to face, she corrected herself- "I guess it makes sense. They're still out here- fighting."

The word "still" felt like a dagger through the heart. On this cold, rainy January day, we were surrounded by people who had spent a lifetime fighting for peace and justice. As people trickled in, there were a couple younger faces, but the majority of the group was on the older side.

The gathering must've been no more than 50 people, but it was impactful nonetheless. We might not have know those we were standing beside, but even so there was a shared knowledge that we would stand and fight for one another, that we loved one another, and that we were thankful for each person there.

The vigil was lead by a Black female pastor, wearing a clerical collar; something that, as she pointed out, you don't see outside of America. She began the service by having us repeat Renee Nicole Good's and Keith Porter's names- just two of the people tragically lost due to ICE brutality.

Together, we recited the group's Statement of Gathering:

"Our gathering here today means we are still a nation that others people rather than welcoming them as those who belong. We who are gathered here to resist the denial of humanity by our government of the vulnerable, the immigrant, even the children. We resist the violence used to usher in dominance and usher out civility, embrace of difference, and love. We use our faith to combat the evils of oppression and authoritarianism. And we fully believe that we will win this fight based on our belief in the Great Divine Spirit who goes before us, behind us, and beside us."

The pastor led us through prayers, hymns and moments of silence. There were various speakers: a Rabbi, Casa San José representative, ministers and priests of various faiths, and many members from various social movements. It was truly a beautiful service, not denouncing or condemning anyone- but peacefully requesting peace and unity for our country. At the end of the vigil, we turned to the ice building and took a moment of silent prayer and reflection. We prayed for the ICE agents inside, and requested their conversion back to humanity. It was a compassionate response to deadly events.

As we left the event we collected fliers for upcoming gatherings, and on the drive home I added them to my ever-growing calendar of events- the next one being the following afternoon.

When I got home, my friend and I made our second poster. Ever the perfectionist and artist, my friend spent a good 20 minutes drawling the most perfectly angry Smokey The Bear. The poster read: "ONLY YOU Can Prevent Fascist Liars," and on the other side: "No Human Is Illegal."

SATURDAY, JANUARY 10TH

Finding Parking in the city is always a struggle- especially for those of us used to rural areas with free public parking lots. Eventually, though, we found an open parking garage, got a parking ticket, and nestled our car between two small SUV's in a compact spot (none of these cars were actually compact).

The garage was only a couple blocks away from the protest starting point, and on our walk we got various reactions from passing cars; There were people frowning, giving us thumbs up, and the occasional cheer. When we were a block away, we joined a small group who were also heading to the protest. We exchanged pleasantries, commented on each others signs, and laughed together as we ran across the street- jaywalking can be fun kids!

As we joined the already enormous crowd, the energy was electric. "No justice- no peace! We want ICE off our streets!" The people chanted in unison, the message as powerful as the strength of their combined voice.

The protest began with speakers, explaining the cause and teaching us the chants we would be repeating during the march. While they spoke, a man ran through with a trump shirt on, shouting his support for ICE- trying to agitate the crowd. Nobody reacted though, we kept our eyes on the speaker, lifting our voices louder as we chanted, "Up Up with Liberation, Down Down with Deportation!" Eventually the man got bored, and turned, zipping up his jacket to cover his Trump 2028 shirt as he walked away.

We marched through the streets of Pittsburgh, demanding to put an end to ICE violence and for no war on Venezuela. As we walked, we spoke to a woman beside us who was dressed as the Statue of Liberty. She had come to the protest alone, but she wasn't lonely; she was a pillar of the gathering. In fact, each person we conversed with seemed as important as the last- and they were.

There's a distinct power gained when going to rallies; a strength you only feel when you let something larger than yourself absorb you. As we shouted, our voices became one, our souls united for a single cause. It didn't matter who's names or stories you didn't know, all that mattered was a unified, mobilized outrage.

Halfway in we stopped outside of the Pittsburgh City-County building for more speeches. A Democratic Socialists of America representative explained the inhumane acts of ICE in our city- Agents lying in wait outside court rooms to abduct families, children. The nearby sheriffs who agreed to work with ICE, without giving their communities a say. Representatives from the PSL, 50501Pittsburgh, Jews Against Genocide, Allegheny United For Immigrant Rights and Justice, etc., urged us to get involved. (If you're from the Pittsburgh area, go follow them on insta!).

We called for the arrest of the murderer Johnathan Ross. We called for ICE to leave our city, and stop terrorizing our neighbors. We called for our taxes to fund jobs and education, not deportation and war.

After these calls to action, we continued our march. On our way, we picked up some stragglers; Three boys, probably 13-16 years old, were walking ahead of us on the street. As we approached, they lit up, pulling their phones out to record. They quickly learned our chants and took position in front of the group, dancing and cheering. Lady Liberty, turned to us and we shared a laugh, gaining much joy from witnessing their excitement. Its the type of energy you only have when you're young and full of hope- an energy I'd been trying to reclaim myself.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 11TH

After another late night, staying up to journal and reflect, I got up early to drive into the city. When my friend woke up ill and could no longer join me, I tried to find a protest buddy. I texted a handful of people, even reaching out to some I hadn't spoken to in months. Apparently, though, 20 minutes isn't enough of a heads up... who would've thought!

So, I laced up my boots, grabbed my winter coat, and headed out the door. The drive was long and filled with much silence, I didn't have music playing but instead took some time for reflection. In the past couple days I had gathered in prayer, in anger, and in solidarity. But today I would simply learn, and help organize.

When I arrived at the Pittsburgh Liberation Center, an unmarked building on the outskirts of the city, I was filled with unease. I sat in my car for a while, trying to build up the nerve to get out. After organizing my thoughts, I jumped into the frigid air- my face numb from its bite.

The room was small, a couple people sat in chairs while others organized refreshments and pamphlets. There were posters and flags covering the walls and bookshelves filled with texts on democratic socialism, the history of social justice, human rights, etc. It was exactly what you would picture a grassroots headquarters to look like.

I headed towards the back of the room to be seated, members introducing themselves to me as I did. It was such a welcoming environment and, as I sat down, I knew I had made the right decision- to show up, even if I was alone. Because that's what organizing is really about, not staying in your comfort zone, but breaking through it to serve something bigger than yourself.

The meeting was two hours long, and I learned the ins and outs of their organization: Allegheny United For Immigrant Rights and Justice. A grassroots movement that was created when Trump took office last January, their objective: make the Pittsburgh area safer for immigrants by preventing local cooperation with ICE. They have been working to push policies that prevent local authorities from working with ICE. They gave us ways we can volunteer and help in the future, along with passing along information about similar organizations.

By the end of the meeting I had an interview set up with PSL, and had filled my calendar with more events to attend. Most importantly, I walked away feeling a little less helpless- they gave me the resources I needed to continue to fight back against this crooked administration.

This was not all I had planned for the day, though, so I quickly started up my car and headed to my next stop- the Pittsburgh ICE facility. Although the building was just a couple miles away, it ended up being a 30+ minute drive due to road closures.

As I sat in traffic, listening to Noah Kahan's "All My Love," I caught glimpses of the people marching through the streets. Signs rose above into my eye-line, ones of love and support for the immigrant community.

Eventually I made it to the GetGo across the street from the ICE building where I left my car and headed to the gathering. As I grew closer, I could hear the speaker, repeating the public statement given by Renee Nicole Good's bereaved partner:

"On Wednesday, January 7th, we stopped to support our neighbors. We had whistles. They had guns."

I silently joined the group, standing next to an older woman, who, at the sight of my quivering hands, offered me her gloves and HotHands. At first, I objected, but she had extras and seemed happy just to be able to help. We exchanged pleasantries, and stood together as the speaker continued.

When the statements had been read, and chants finished, they continued their march onward through the city. I stood and watched as people left flowers, pebbles, and signs in front of the building- to honor Renee Nicole Good and the other lives lost due to ICE brutality.

Instead of joining the crowd in their march, I let myself absorb and live in this somber moment. I stood there and prayed, until it became too cold to stand outside any longer. As I turned back to my car, I left the ICE building behind me, protestors' yells echoing in the distance.

REFLECTION

Minneapolis was the place I was born, and for many people across the country it has become a birthplace of activism. In 2020, the murder of George Floyd sparked the largest protests in U.S. history, and skyrocketed the BLM movement's numbers. And now, in 2026, a new Minneapolis tragedy has mobilized hundreds of protests across the nation, with thousands of people demanding justice for Renee Nichole Good.

The past few days, I have seen the people, united, rally and stand up against ICE's reign of terror in our country. Children, veterans, and elderly alike, taking to the streets shouting, singing, and praying. Not only rage and anger, but mercy and compassion.

Personally, these events have helped remind me of my passion for social justice, and given me resources to step up and do my part. As I've spoken to people from giant social movements, to tiny grassroots organizations, I've seen the importance of standing up, in whatever capacity it might be.

In these dark times, it is easy to lose hope- I know the feeling well. But what I've learned is, there is ALWAYS something to be done. So, dear reader, amidst these dark times, you must refrain from hiding away; Your neighbors, your community, your country needs you. Whether it's attending protests, organizing walkouts, reposting important news online, or even just putting a candle in your window in remembrance, you must do your part. The only way we get through this is together. Remember- you are never alone.

Nothing we do can bring back any of the people lost, but hopefully, hand in hand, we can prevent more names from being added to the list.