From Anguish to Action

I walked into the rotunda of the Minnesota State Capitol on February 18, 2026, excited to speak to lawmakers and community members about the impact of immigration enforcement in Minneapolis and St. Paul. The speech capped weeks of community organizing and activism.

Backstage, I stood nervously behind a line of speakers—an immigrant small business owner, a renter unable to keep working, and others describing the fallout from the recent US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) crackdowns in the Twin Cities. We had organized the event to chronicle the violence and disturbances that had been occurring in our communities.

As the child of recent immigrants from Mexico, and as someone who grew up in a predominantly White community in South Dakota, I learned early what it means to feel visible, powerless, and excluded. So, in December 2025, when federal immigration enforcement intensified across the Twin Cities during Operation Metro Surge—a coordinated deployment of agencies including ICE, Border Patrol, Homeland Security Investigations, and other federal law enforcement units—I identified with those living under threat and felt afraid for local immigrant communities. Those feelings motivated me to help organize a student-led response at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities, where I am a senior.      

The effects of Operation Metro Surge were immediately felt on campus. Some students stopped coming to class. Some left the state. As empty seats replaced classmates who had been there shortly before, group projects stalled when we could no longer reach our peers.

A steady stream of social media posts reported unverified sightings of ICE vehicles outside grocery stores, apartment complexes, and transit stops. My fellow students and I struggled to distinguish rumors from actual activity, and our stress about the uncertainty of what was happening made it hard to focus on our coursework.

Another source of stress was a lack of clear directives from the university about how to respond if ICE agents appeared on campus. No centralized system existed for sharing verified information. 

In response to this lack of information, a small group of us formed a collective named Luchadores en Marcha (“fighters in the struggle”). Working through the university’s Department of Chicano and Latino Studies, with support from faculty, we provided trainings for other students. We built our approach around two types of trainings already happening in the city: “Know your Rights” sessions and “Upstander” training. “Know your Rights” refers to education about constitutional protections, including the right to remain silent and the requirement that federal agents present a judicial warrant—signed by a judge—to enter private spaces. Upstander training focuses on how bystanders can safely document enforcement activity and connect individuals to legal assistance.

Faculty invited us to speak to their classes. During these sessions, we explained what ICE is authorized to do, how to verify judicial warrants, and what faculty and students should do if they encounter agents. We also shared a number for a hotline connected to a network of volunteer rapid responders, including attorneys and community advocates.

Our efforts gave students concrete ways to respond and support one another during a period of sustained disruption. By taking action, we transformed fear into purpose and assumed responsibility for one another. Personally, I learned that my words and choices carry power. 

Photo courtesy Anthony Marquez