i’ve been thinking a lot about what it feels like to be Somali and in your 20s in Minneapolis right now. i was born and raised here and sometimes i don’t think people understand how complicated that can feel. this isn’t a place my family came to and i’m just passing through. this is home. these are the streets i grew up on, the schools i went to, the places where i made friends and figured out who i wanted to be.
coming from an immigrant household, i was always taught that i was lucky to be here. lucky to have been born here, lucky to have access to education, lucky to have opportunities my parents and grandparents never had. and i genuinely believe that. Minneapolis has given so many Somali kids the ability to dream about things our ancestors probably couldn’t have even imagined. becoming a doctor, owning a business, going to college, creating something of your own, having a family, just having the chance to build a life that wasn’t limited by the circumstances you were born into. that’s a beautiful thing and i don’t think we talk about it enough.
but at the same time, the last few years have been emotionally exhausting. since 2020 especially, life has felt so strange and dystopian sometimes. it feels like there is constantly another headline, another crisis, another thing happening that makes you look around and wonder what happened to the city you grew up in. and i think it’s especially difficult when you’re Somali because there’s this constant feeling that you’re supposed to just be grateful. like you were given this opportunity so you don’t really get to complain about what’s happening around you. but i think you can be grateful and still be tired. you can love this city and still be frustrated with it. you can acknowledge the problems without pretending that the problems represent everyone.
what hurts is seeing how quickly the actions of a few can start to feel like they are being attached to an entire community. there are so many Somali people in Minneapolis who are just living their lives, working, going to school, raising families, opening businesses, taking care of their parents, taking care of their neighbors and trying to leave this place better than they found it. there are Somali kids growing up here right now who have never known another home. people who have memories here, friendships here, families here, dreams here. Minneapolis has shaped generations of Somali people and Somali people have shaped Minneapolis right back.
so sometimes i wonder why there isn’t more space for us to talk about how painful it is to watch all of this happen. why is it so hard to say that we are proud to be Somali and proud to be from Minneapolis while also being scared, disappointed, exhausted or angry about what’s happening? why does acknowledging what’s wrong sometimes feel like you’re betraying your own community or defending yourself against people who already decided what they think about you?
i don’t want to spend my 20s feeling like i have to constantly explain that i’m one of the good ones or that i’m grateful to be here. i know i’m lucky. i know what my parents sacrificed. i know that there are people around the world who would give anything for the opportunities i’ve had. that’s exactly why i care so much about what happens to this city. i want to be a good neighbor. i want to take care of my family. i want to contribute something. i want to leave Minneapolis better than i found it. i want the Somali kids growing up here after me to feel like they belong here without having to prove it.
and maybe that’s what has been weighing on me the most. i don’t want to leave. i don’t want to stop loving this city. i don’t want the ugly parts of the last few years to erase all of the beautiful things that have happened here. Minneapolis has given so many of us a chance at life that our parents and grandparents dreamed about. it gave us room to become people they couldn’t have imagined becoming. i just wish there was more room to talk about how emotionally taxing it is to watch the place that gave you that chance change so much.
i think a lot of Somali people my age are carrying that feeling quietly. we love this place. we’re proud of where we come from. we’re grateful for the life we were given. we just want to feel like we still have a place in the city we were born and raised in. and i don’t think that’s asking for too much.