They are garbage. They contribute nothing. They should go back to where they came from, which by the way, stinks. These words were not spewed by an angsty adolescent at a playground foe. Our president pronounced them.
The target du jour? Minnesota’s Somali community. By now, we are unfazed by such attacks. The profane mumblings of a former political outsider — remember the “grab them by the…” comment? — once triggered condemnation from all sides. They are now accepted and expected.
We shake our heads, shrug, and maybe even chuckle.
Over the past year, Minnesota’s Somali community has found itself in the president’s crosshairs. Donald Trump smelled a political opportunity to attack Gov. Tim Walz when a slew of high-profile convictions renewed public attention in the “Feeding our Future” fraud scheme. The scandal stemmed from $250 million dollars of stolen pandemic-era federal funding to feed low-income children in Minnesota.
But Somali involvement was the cherry on top.
Trump latched onto the issue with rabid ferocity, gobbling it up and spitting it out in globs of anti-immigrant vitriol.
Stealing food from hungry kids is bad. For Trump, however, it was never about the kids. If it was, he wouldn’t have empowered trillionaire Elon Musk to gleefully feed the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), which fed millions of starving kids globally, into the “woodchipper.”
And the stigmatization of a community for the sins of a few is not only hypocritical, it’s counterproductive. Yes, we should condemn crimes. But we must also reject the president’s call to demonize the communities from which criminals come. If we take his bait, we forsake our political autonomy, disregard the contributions of the Somali community to our state, and further shred the already torn fabric of our society.
I propose we take advantage of the klieg lights on Minnesota’s Somali community in a different way. Instead of using the “Feeding our Future” scheme to form (or reinforce) negative stereotypes, let’s consider the perseverance of Somali Americans. Many came to Minnesota in the 90’s, fleeing brutal conflict and atrocities. As a former Horn of Africa specialist in the federal government, I have just a sliver of insight into the horrors they endured.
Their willpower to rebuild lives in Minnesota — and survive our winters — is a lesson in resilience. They started businesses and created jobs here. They brought poetic melodies, vibrant traditions, and bold cuisines that have enriched our society. They are our teachers and healthcare workers. When my own mother fell and shattered her shoulder last year, a Somali nurse cared for her during her agony.
For this, I am eternally grateful.
We must also reject the Trumpian temptation to view the Somali community as separate from “the rest of us.” Sure, you’ll see more hijabs than flannels in Minneapolis’s Cedar-Riverside neighborhood, but our differences in clothing, religion, and language are mere parts of our complex identities.
Take U.S. Rep. Ilhan Omar, a perennial Trump target. For Trump, she is the stuff of nightmares: a fearless Black female Somali immigrant (in a hijab!) with a voice. While Trump has equated her immigrant identity to being “anti-American,” her actions expose his lies. Earlier this summer, I watched Omar proudly marching in the Twin Cities Pride Parade (Yasss, boqorad!) amidst a sea of rainbow flags. That same weekend, she danced in Somali Independence Day celebrations.
This ability to move between and unite, rather than divide, our interconnected communities, is what we should expect of our leaders.
I know, I know — some might say my views are dripping with a “feel-good” liberal bias. But politics aside, if any of my fellow Minnesotans still struggle with the urge to write off the Somali community for the “Feeding our Future” scandal, try a simple exercise. Consider the crimes that have been committed by people who look like you. As a white, male, cisgender American, it’s horrifyingly enlightening.
So, let’s not chop down a branch from the tree of our society, of which our Somali brothers and sisters are a part, out of rage at an injustice. Instead, let’s nourish its roots with open minds, curiosity, and empathy. If we can do this, our society will bear fruit, and we will really feed our future.
Paul Conroy is a native of Monticello, Minn., and a former Horn of Africa Stabilization Adviser at the U.S. Department of State. He is currently an American Service Fellow and Master in Public Administration candidate at Harvard Kennedy School.