Camp Nenookaasi Overview
the evicted, their yurts, and a state-funded genocide
By WINKS
Contrary to popular belief, being unhoused is not a crime. However, since 1492, there has been a long history of state violence against “unhoused” people, in Minneapolis and otherwise. These are the folks who bear the brunt of this country’s interlocking systems of oppression; it is not their fault that they may suffer from addiction, poverty, violence, unemployment, or disease, no matter what the media may claim. And, no matter how much community support (or anarchist resistance), unhoused folks always eventually end up evicted, on the street, and dispossessed, having all of their shelters, possessions, and food confiscated. Separated from community and shelter, exposed to the harsh Minnesota winter, where will they go? How much more additional trauma will they carry?
This brings us to Nenookaasi Ikwe Healing Camp, an encampment of Native American unhoused individuals, created to house, protect, rehabilitate, and traditionally educate Minneapolis’ most vulnerable unhoused populations. Current camp organizers claim they have helped house over 100 ex-residents in the last year and have helped countless others recover from addictions and overdoses.
Nenookaasi didn’t pop up overnight, but is the result of years of mutual aid, grassroots organizing, state violence, and communal resilience. Over the three years since Nenookaasi has been established, it has been swept four times. In 2021, the city evicted the camp for 20 months until its reestablishment in August 2023. The other three (Jan. to Feb. 2024) saw nearly the entire camp relocated and rebuilt overnight.
How is this possible? Repeditately moving roughly 100 folks, their belongings, and their shelters within the same day? Aside from community aid, the humble yurt aides indefinitely. As designed and mass-produced by a grassroots organization of neighbors-turned-carpenters, the Autonomous Yurt Union (AYU), these circular shelters can span up to 7 feet tall and 14.5 feet in diameter, one being more than enough to provide an entire family with shelter and warmth. Materials are cheap, made entirely from tarps, slats, two-by-fours, a barrel (the stove), and a whole lot of paracord. As for construction time, a group of about a dozen folks could theoretically erect nine yurts within an hour. And they take far longer to take down, expending significant city resources during evictions.
Nenookaasi is the first of its kind to utilize yurts in this manner, prompting AYU to rename themselves to the AYU Minneapolis Chapter in hopes of spreading the model nation-wide—the practice of yurt-building has already extended to Saint Paul and allegedly Chicago. Hopefully, the more the yurt model spreads, the more diverse its utilization will be, potentially serving as emergency housing post-natural-disaster or for environmental advocates.
As of Feb. 8, supporters of Nenookaasi proposed three ordinances to Minneapolis City Council’s Introduction & Referral calendar, one to regulate “safe outdoor spaces” for unhoused folks (modeled after Denver ordinances), and the others to codify “humane” and “regular[ly] report[ed]” city responses before and during evictions. Though there are no announced dates for further action yet, Nenookaasi is in a somewhat advantaged position: pressure builds against sweeps from the camp itself, the aforementioned ordinances, and the city’s own exceedingly discontent budget committee. Regarding the latter, the city has likely spent over $650,000 on the last three evictions alone (interpreted from the Council’s 2023 presentation “Homeless Encampment Closures Report 2023-00368”).
Despite the mounting pressure, it wouldn't be surprising if MPD or Public Works retaliate soon, extending fewer warnings and more cruelties. The previous two evictions (Jan. 30, Feb. 1) had no direct communication with the camp beforehand, and MPD exhibited a willingness to both arrest (at least one person) and utilize crowd control (LDAR, not yet used) against those within Nenookaasi. This is all the more likely given Mayor Frey’s interpersonal deception of camp organizers and police officers’ historic tendency to retaliate against Indigenous folks.
It is clear that the evictions of Nenookaasi are direct continuations of a genocidal settler colonialism from a racist capitalist government; this isn’t something that only occurs in wartorn states (like Gaza), but it occurs here, and never stopped occurring here. The shelters are full, the sanitary resources are stripped away, and, unfortunately, the shootings at Nenookaasi do not compare to the scale of the rest of the city. This is not about the city’s concerns for housing, safety, or “sanitary conditions,” but rather about the control of stolen Native land. And, as far as people are concerned, unhoused Indigenous folks have a mortality rate 5 times higher than the average Minnesota citizen (see “Minnesota Homeless Mortality Report, 2017-2021”).
“We weren’t homeless before the boats came over,” residents have said, and “No peace on stolen land” others—in terms of decolonization and continued existence, it’s clear: Nenookaasi will either find its way or make one.