On a late April Thursday, a south Minneapolis brewery hummed with music and conversation. The Cha Cha Slide played while people browsed a silent auction organized by Juntos Podemos, a volunteer mutual-aid group that delivers groceries and rent support to immigrant families.
Co-founder Anaí Tepozteco circulated through the crowd, checking a handmade tracker pinned to a wall. “Our goal is $20,000 — right now we are halfway there,” she told guests. By the end of the night the group had raised about $15,000, a shortfall that highlighted a wider problem: donations and volunteer numbers have plunged since Operation Metro Surge ended in February.
The federal enforcement operation — which officers carried out with masked ICE and Customs and Border Protection agents who made thousands of arrests and disrupted daily life in some neighborhoods — left lasting economic damage even after agents left. More than 3,000 immigrants were arrested during the operation, and the period of raids and protests upended work and incomes for many families. Two U.S. citizens were also fatally shot by federal agents during the operation, adding to the trauma felt across the city.
Now, when the visible presence of agents has faded and community whistle alerts are no longer routine, the needs remain. Tepozteco says Juntos Podemos still fields requests for groceries and rent help: “We want to keep assisting families with groceries but also families who are behind with rent.”
But community giving has waned. Mutual-aid organizers report fewer donations and fewer hands to do the work. Many immigrants who spoke with reporters said they stopped working during the surge and are still trying to recover; some have taken on debt and worry about falling behind on rent and bills. “Without a paycheck, I don’t know how I’m going to make rent and pay for my bills,” said Paola, an undocumented immigrant from Ecuador who asked to be identified only by her first name because of her status.
Local data reflect growing housing instability. HOME Line, a Minnesota tenant-advocacy nonprofit, reported that eviction filings in Minneapolis rose 26% in April compared with the same month last year.
Neighborhood relief efforts that swelled during the enforcement period are now stretched thin. Sulia Altenberg, who co-founded a rent relief drive in Powderhorn, recalls days in February and March when donations surged — sometimes bringing in as much as $10,000 in a single day — allowing volunteers to help more than 230 households with rent. In April the effort received a $300,000 infusion from two local foundations, enough to cover rent for more than 60 households. But those funds have been spent, and the group’s account is now empty. “It’s all gone,” Altenberg said. Small overnight donations now sometimes amount to only a few dollars, and she worries about how to continue with fewer contributors and volunteers.
Alexandria Guzman Gomez, who launched a separate rent-relief program in January, says her initiative has paid more than $1.5 million to help residents in the Phillips neighborhood. Still, she sees donor and volunteer fatigue setting in. “They don’t have the time … and they also don’t have the money anymore,” she said.
Rising costs make the situation worse: grocery prices have edged up, and gas prices in the region rose above $4 a gallon after global events in the Middle East, up from under $3 a few months earlier. Those everyday increases squeeze both the people who need aid and the neighbors trying to provide it.
Organizers say help continues at smaller scales — neighbors sharing food or pitching in directly — but those gestures can’t replace the larger sums and sustained volunteer networks that emerged at the height of the crisis. Many people who stepped forward have returned to work or school; Guzman Gomez, for example, plans to begin graduate school in social work this fall and expects her capacity to volunteer will decline.
Still, organizers emphasize that the need persists. Families who lost weeks or months of income during the raids are still catching up on debts and rent, and more assistance will be required to prevent evictions and deeper hardship. Tepozteco and other mutual-aid leaders are trying to keep momentum going, but they warn that without renewed donations and volunteers, their ability to meet ongoing needs will be limited.
This reporting was supported by the Economic Hardship Reporting Project.