Keep a flame lit—no matter how small
Death and rebirth, how repression leads to expression.
Annika Prickett
I know I don’t need to belabor the events of January 2026 for you, dear reader.
I have wept and marched alongside many of you, and I share the pain that we’re all harboring in our hearts right now. To put it lightly, these are troubling times. To put it bluntly—we’re fighting for the very soul of our nation—but you knew that already.
I’m not here to lecture you about the importance of this moment. The tides have shifted, and right now is a time of action and digestion. Over the past few months, I’ve been working as a part-time concierge at a hotel, part-time (unpaid, unlicensed) therapist counseling guests on their concerns and cancellations regarding their trip into the Twin Cities. The resounding message I found myself returning to over and over again is that, despite how terrifying it feels to walk outside, in spite of the 3,000-strong occupation in our streets—dare I say I’m excited to be alive right now?
Minneapolis and Minnesota are at the center of the global eye right now, and we’re showing the world that we are a strong and resilient people—unbound, unbent, and unbroken in the face of unprecedented state violence against its own citizens, and yet despite it all—we still lean on love.
Neighbors helping neighbors.
Supporting small businesses.
Patrolling the streets to provide some semblance of safety for one another.
We are protecting ourselves and each other, and if that isn’t the very heart of resistance, I don’t know what is.
What deeply excites me is the art culture I’m seeing flourish across the Cities. There is a uniquely Minnesotan spin on the “ICE OUT” resistance art—from snow emergency signs to the ice sculptures that sit on our capitol lawn in St. Paul, it shows that people in Minnesota have taken ownership over defending our communities, and that they are processing the pain of occupation enough to transmute into a culture that we are in turn sharing with the world. Art is deeply intertwined with resistance movements; in fact, it is the life force that propels them forward. It is my personal belief that if you have even an inkling of creativity in your bones, it is your duty to act as a channel for that energy. Allow unprocessed trauma and emotions to be released from your system, no matter how raw, no matter how messy, because it is our duty to bear witness, and someone needs to see what you’ve created. The art we produce is what allows the rest of the country and the world to empathize with our plight, to show them that we are not savages, terrorists, or violent by nature, but rather that we are compelled by a deep ethic of care for one another, and that is what drives us to fight. Observing and creating art helps to break down the rhetoric surrounding this occupation. Art is what humanizes us. Furthermore, documenting this moment preserves it. It is to protect the truth of what we are enduring for future generations to understand the warning signs and how to resist should authoritarianism rear its ugly head again.
There have been exactly zero instances in which fascism has prevailed. Mussolini fell on the sword of his own hubris. The Norwegians, not unlike what we’re seeing now on our home turf, beat back the Nazis, and we all know how Hitler would ultimately go on to face the barrel of his own gun. We are destined to win this fight; it just might take a while to get there.
As the current regime attempts to bury us in fear and division, they neglected to realize that we are seeds. I implore you, dear reader, to tend to that garden. Take photos. Write a journal documenting what you’re seeing outside, the atmosphere of campus, what it feels like to be in community—to be a city under siege. Interview your friends and professors about how this moment is landing for them. Doing something is better than nothing, and right now, we need your art and your voice more than ever.
To play on Lin-Manuel Miranda and Hamilton:
“History is happening in Minneapolis, and we just happen to be in the greatest city in the world.”
Stay strong.
Stay Minnesota Nice.
And for the love of God, FUCK ICE.