I really think you should read these love letters to Minnesota

Because together they tell a story: about why we can win, and how

Photo credit: Ellen Schmidt/MinnPost/CatchLight Local/Report for America

By this point, the duality in Minnesota is clear. The assault is relentless and terrifying. The response is equally relentless and life-giving. There are a million stories of trauma, and a million stories of transcendent beauty. They’ve got the guns. We’ve got each other. The latter half of the equation doesn’t make the first any less horrific, but somehow the crowds keep growing.

At the intersection of those two realities: the devastating but sacred truths of this moment. They threw everything they had at Minnesota, and Minnesota didn’t flinch.

And also…

When a colossus collapses, it doesn’t fall quietly. That’s true of busted worldviews, bloviating despots and seemingly invincible empires. This regime won’t disappear without writhing and flailing and trying to puff itself up one last time. But that doesn’t mean it’s not already mid-collapse.

And also…

When a better world is birthed, it doesn’t always feel triumphant. Not at first. A baby deer teeters around on its flimsy newborn legs before it can run with its mother. And you never know, when you’re at the start of something, what’s to come. But that doesn’t make those first moments any less miraculous.

Every day, a growing majority of Americans say they now support abolishing ICE. That’s only true because of Chicago, Portland, Charlotte, New Orleans and now Minnesota. That’s only true because this public collision of cruelty and care iis changing us all.

“But Trump is still in power,” “But far too many Americans still support these atrocities” “But the Democrats in Congress are weak and embarrassing… did you hear that all they’re proposing are body cameras and training?”

All true, and devastating. But that doesn’t make any of the previous truths less accurate. History doesn’t announce itself as it’s being made.

I wish that the good neighbors of the Twin Cities didn’t have to shine a light for the rest of us. I wish that there was no call to be answered. I wish their kids were in school and that none of them were locked up in Whipple and that they didn’t have to tend to each other’s wounds.

I wish they didn’t have to, but they are. And because they are, the rest of us are dreaming more expansively. That too is how Overton Windows work. It isn’t just about moving them leftward, but cracking them open, showing each other, through acts of collective bravery, the full landscape of what we might build.

Like so many others, I’ve made my pitches to donate, to call Congress, to do all the things you’d expect. But I also knew, from my work with activists on the ground, that there was value in letting them know they weren’t alone. So I put out a pitch, for love letters. To Minnesota generally, but especially Minneapolis (because that’s where I had networks that I knew could help me distribute the collected messages).

I made a form and put out the request. Hundreds have responded. As each new batch has come in, I’ve passed them onto Minneapolis. They’re met with tears (grateful ones, happy ones). We’ve shared some social media posts. More gratitude. There’s talk now of printing them out and hanging them up throughout town.

It’s a tiny thing, but it’s resonating with those that deserve to hear it the most. Not because my initial idea was brilliant, but because of the beauty of the responses. Our hearts are on fire, you all, and they’re lighting the path back towards each other.

I will continue to post these on Instagram (for better or worse, a place that exists to share images). Perhaps they will be up soon around the Cities. But also, I want you to see a few of them here, and to know what they mean. This is who we are to each other. This is how much we love each other. There’s no guarantee that we’ll win. That’s not how the world works. But when I read them, I understand more deeply how we could.

End notes:

1. If you’d like to add your love letter, the form is still open. Thank you to everybody who has already been a part of this project. It’s been beautiful.

2. I should note: I did not take on this project alone. Thanks to both the activists and designers who’ve pitched in. Right now I’m defaulting towards anonymity of all contributors, but will update if my collaborators want public recognition.

3. Kind words matter, but so does material support. This site continues to be one of the best resources to find out how to chip in where it’s needed most across Minnesota right now.

4. If you’re already in Minnesota, you probably already know about Friday’s massive protest day, but it never hurts to share some more.

5. Jess Craven has, as always, great scripts for calling Congressional Dems so that they don’t pass a big dumb blank check to ICE (a first step, but unfortunately a necessary one). I also loved this reflection from Ryan Rose Weaver (she/hers) on other things you can do from afar right now.

6. Finally, I’m really grateful you’re here. There are a lot of worthwhile and urgent places for you to support now, so I say this with a lot of humility: If my work (as a writer, organizer or connector) has been useful to you, know that I can’t keep doing it without your help. Paid subscriptions are the most meaningful way to do so(because this is literally my job, and I sure as heck will never do weird stuff like ads), but sharing with friends also helps a bunch. I try to keep the cost cheap, and give so much cool free merch as a thank you. Would you be up to help out? Thank you, thank you, thank you.