Respira
Por Pamela Cerdeira
The first video of Renee Wood’s killing at the hands of ICE agents left many questions in the air: why was the car parked across the middle of the road? Who is filming his wife arguing with someone else? Why did she decide to start the car? What was happening before?
What was happening is that Minnesota is unlike any other place in the United States; all those elements that seemed out of place were, in reality, the portrait of a community that employs the most creative, brave, and peaceful forms of resistance—even though the federal government's response to that activism has grown increasingly violent.
If we listen closely, beyond the shouting and in the distance, in most of the videos—like Renee Wood’s or the footage of the killing of nurse Alex Pretti—whistles can be heard. The community uses them to alert neighbors to the presence of ICE agents. This way, residents can take cover or take to the streets to document what is happening with their phones. The toy store Mischief Toys has been giving away thousands of 3D-printed whistles a week. Authorities have insisted that the whistles won’t stop them, just as the community says they know it’s an action that harms no one, yet remains a powerful way to continue supporting one another. Hearing them sends shivers down your spine; it is a constant, annoying piercing sound, a "Jiminy Cricket" screaming that what is happening is not right—a kind of collective conscience that pierces through everyone: activists, neighbors, and even the agents themselves.
SALT MELTS ICE
The community has pressured Target—the retail chain where two employees, both U.S. citizens, were already detained by ICE—to ban agent operations inside its facilities and parking lots. The decision is not simple: on one hand, many agents dress in plain clothes, and on the other, no one wants to make an enemy of the federal government. At the same time, employees are afraid to show up for work.
But what the customers did was ingenious. Over the weekend, they showed up to buy bags and bags of the salt used to melt ice. Thus, following the analogy of “Salt Melts ICE”, after their purchase, they formed long lines to return them. They didn’t destroy the store or loot it; they simply complicated the standard operation.
Elsewhere, young women are placing stickers with Mexican flags on the bodies of their cars. They aren't Mexican; they are U.S. citizens. They know that if the agents run their plates, they will find out immediately, but they will have made them waste time—minutes they won't spend terrorizing someone else in their community.
The Case of Ryan Ecklund
Ryan Ecklund is a real estate agent, and his Instagram account is full of videos showing the houses he sells. But one video, which has since been removed from his account, tells a different story. His wife, who is usually behind the phone filming him, appeared on camera to recount what was happening: Ryan was detained by ICE agents because he decided to follow them to film their actions.
In the next video, still available on the platform, Ryan appears in front of a fireplace and a television, with bruises on his face: “I wish the most controversial thing about this video was that I have a TV above a fireplace… The main purpose of my account and social media presence is to be a guide for people who want to know about real estate. I just want to say that I’m okay; I was detained by ICE agents where I live, in Woodbury, Minnesota. I was filming and following their movements from my vehicle when five officers approached me, blocked my path, and pulled me out of the car, slamming me against the ground; that’s where I got these marks on my face. I was held at the Whipple Detention Center for 10 hours; the people I shared a cell with were all U.S. citizens. I exercised my legal rights and I invite everyone to do the same, but with caution. What I thought I was doing did not interfere with their work, nor was I honking the horn… there were no charges against me because there was nothing to accuse me of.”
The City That Doesn't Sleep
The sun has already set, and the streets are reminiscent of the surroundings of the Ángel de la Independencia in Mexico City when the Mexican national team wins a World Cup match, or even more. Except these are the streets of Minnesota. A pair of musicians play the drums and guitar at full volume. Other people launch fireworks into the sky. Others shout. There is no single rhythm; while they look like celebrations, they could be the nightmare of anyone with even the slightest sensitivity to noise, and that is precisely the point. The apparent street party takes place outside one of the hotels where ICE agents are staying; the protesters' goal is to make so much noise that they cannot sleep.
In another spot, a man in his 40s stands near a school. He has a whistle but isn't using it yet; he motions with his hand for students to enter quickly. He, like many others, is organized to watch the entrances and exits of the schools and ensure that no agents are nearby.
A journalist asked a citizen if the media was correctly covering what was happening and if there was anything she wanted to be told. In the midst of the violence, brutality, and fear, she said it was important to talk about the kindness and the stories of generosity that were emerging.
In the wake of Pretti’s killing, a general strike was organized. People missed work, and businesses closed in solidarity so that their employees could support their communities.
I contacted a citizen of Minnesota to hear her story. She told me it was important for us to know what was happening and that she would get back to me as soon as she could talk because, for now, she had to help her friends.
Las opiniones expresadas son responsabilidad de sus autoras y son absolutamente independientes a la postura y línea editorial de Opinión 51.
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