Since federal immigration agents began descending on the Twin Cities in December, Minnesotans have organized themselves as legal observers, neighborhood defense units and volunteers delivering groceries and giving car rides to people who are afraid to leave their homes.
Among them are a group of Cedar Riverside women, affectionately known as the “Mamas of Cedar,” who have taken it upon themselves to ensure that fellow mothers and other neighbors are aware of what is happening around them and have their basic needs met.
Nasteho Abdi, a 13-year resident of the neighborhood, is one of six mothers patrolling the neighborhood daily in neon-green vests and meeting residents in the lobbies of their buildings. She said the activity is a natural outgrowth of her involvement in the community.
“I didn’t even have to question myself,” she said. “It was a no-brainer.”
The six mothers who patrol the boundaries of Cedar range in age from 36 to 60. They are a subset of the Cedar Riverside Protection Alliance, a group of primarily young people in their 20s and early 30s that created the alliance in early December as a rapid response to the presence of ICE agents.
Nasteho and her fellow patrollers attended a “Know Your Rights Training” hosted by Ayada Leads, an organization that promotes leadership development for African diaspora women in Minnesota. The training gave the women foundational knowledge and best practices to protect their neighbors.
The six mothers are stationed around the Riverside Plaza apartments where they reside. Each person spends five hours a week posted in the lobby of one of the apartment buildings to help educate residents on their rights during encounters with ICE. Outside of those hours, the mothers patrol the neighborhood on foot, particularly if ICE activity has been observed.
Sagal Ali, left, and Nasteho Abdi walk their patrol route near Riverside Plaza on Minneapolis on Jan. 13, 2026. Credit: Chris Juhn for Sahan Journal
Idil Ahmed, a mother of three who grew up in Cedar Riverside, is not one of the six. But she also provides food for those who need it and offers rides to medical appointments. Idil’s phone number has become shared community information she says, and most of the calls she gets these days are from people she doesn’t know.
Food and legal representation are the biggest issues, she said. Even though most Somalis are citizens or otherwise in the U.S. legally, many have experienced harassment by ICE agents and fear going out. People also are increasingly feeling financial pressure.
“Every bill is becoming a burden. We’re coming to realize, as we continue to help, more and more needs are coming because people have been home for more than a month now and that means no income. Assets or savings that they had has been used,” she said. “It’s affecting all parts of the community.”
Another group of mothers in Cedar Riverside that includes Halimo Elmi, Nasro Hassen, and Fadumo Abdi who offer food and drinks to those who gather at the site where Renee Nicole Macklin Good was shot and killed by ICE agent Jonathan Ross.
Every morning around 9 a.m. in the Chase building also known as the “C” building, you can find Somali tea in the lobby made by Nasro, who has organized a WhatsApp group for the building and says it’s the duty of the mothers of Cedar to share what they can.
“Our mothers are for neighbors, our neighbors have helped us a lot, they feel for us.” Nasro said.
Three of the women do a handshake in one of the buildings in Riveside Plaza in Minneapolis on Jan. 13, 2026. Credit: Chris Juhn for Sahan Journal
Through the WhatsApp group the mothers crowdfund in the building, asking $10 from whomever can contribute to buy ingredients for tea and sambusas for the volunteers that are keeping watch for ICE. The tea and sambusas are made from scratch.
Halimo, has lived in the country for 25 years and has four children, all born and raised in the U.S. Her eldest daughter is a first-generation college student.
Halimo says she has had two encounters with ICE agents, each time with her children, who were the ones being approached and questioned
“We raised our children here. We have families here. We see that people are showing up for us from different communities. We have to mobilize ourselves,” she said. ” Each morning, you’re keeping in mind: Who have you seen? Who is missing? Who have we not heard from?”
“I am not scared, and we will not be scared. We know our rights. We’re U.S. citizens and we’re going to continue to show up,” Halimo said.
Credit: Christopher Juhn
The WhatsApp group also alerts residents when ICE is in the neighborhood and when they are entering into the building parking lots, a signal for the mothers to come down and observe what is taking place. The frequent communication allows them to stay on top of nearby ICE activity and makes them aware of how to support the patrols who are outside in the cold.
“They have been aggressive to us. Whether they’re citizens or not citizens, no one is safe. As mothers, we want to make sure that we’re protecting each other,” Halimo said.
“This chat has also given us a semblance of peace, before we were in isolation [experiencing] PTSD and anxiety. We’ve not lived in peace in the last six weeks. This chat has been a way for us to get involved,” Halimo said.
Fadumo said the mothers were “absolutely disheartened” by Good’s shooting death, and hope for accountability. Further, she had a message for the world beyond their small group.
“We are American,” she said. We love our neighbors, and we want that message to be clear.”
Sagal Ali contributed interpretation for this story.
