Khalid Mohamed knew what tear gas tasted like before he was enveloped by clouds of the dangerous chemical weapon during confrontations last month with squads of masked federal agents.
Mohamed knew because he had been tear-gassed in 2020, he says, during street protests for racial justice in Seattle, where he was living at the time.
Now the 32-year-old is back in Minneapolis, where he grew up, and connections between the two liberal cities have been on his mind.
Like other ex-Washingtonians, Mohamed has been relaying information to friends and relatives in Seattle about conditions in Minneapolis, where a surge of immigration officers has created tumult.
He and other Minnesotans disturbed by the aggressive enforcement operation have been sharing their experiences and straining to convey how quickly the situation escalated, partly because they worry Seattle could be next.
“Mobilize now,” Mohamed advised from Minneapolis, sipping tea in Muhim's Cafe on Lake Street. “Because I feel like we were not prepared.”
Mohamed realized the ICE presence would throw his city into chaos in December, he said, when officers descended on the Riverside Plaza apartment complex where many Somali Americans live. The surge came as President Donald Trump lashed out at Somali Americans, connecting their entire community with fraud crimes that involved a number of individuals.
“I got my phone out and just started recording,” recalled Mohamed, who questioned and denounced the agents while filming.
An agent asked to see his identification; he refused. The officers eventually drove away.
Since then, Mohamed has been responding to other reports of ICE officers, he said, including alerts posted in encrypted Signal chat groups. He’s been not only tear-gassed but pepper-sprayed during standoffs with agents, which intensified after the fatal shootings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti last month.
He started carrying a whistle, which he and like-minded Minneapolis residents use to warn neighbors when they see ICE. Mohamed, who until recently worked in city government, said regular people have stepped up to protect their neighbors from ICE, rather than relying on local politicians.
They’ve learned to recognize the rental vehicles used by ICE agents, Mohamed said, driving his own SUV through a Minneapolis neighborhood blanketed with anti-ICE signs in front of homes and businesses.
And Mohamed now carries his U.S. passport everywhere, he said. Although most Somali Americans like him are citizens or legal residents, many feel threatened by the ICE surge, he said, walking through Karmel Mall, a massive shopping center where many Somali American businesses are suffering.
“It’s like you have to prove that you’re an American,” Mohamed said. “Like your existence is not being valued.”
Fifteen minutes away in Richfield, a working class Minneapolis suburb, Anne Johnson has been less active than Mohamed. But Johnson, 50, who grew up in Seattle’s View Ridge neighborhood, said she’s also been communicating with friends and relatives there about what’s going on in Minnesota.
She was partly working as a DoorDash delivery driver when ICE enforcement ramped up and saw how it was affecting many businesses.
“All of the Mexican restaurants were locked,” and many fast food restaurants with immigrant workers, as well, said Johnson, who's lived in Minnesota for more than 20 years. “They had to let you in.”
Johnson’s wife used to work at a local Target store with two U.S. citizen employees who were roughly detained by federal agents at the store last month in an incident partly captured on video, Johnson said.
Although ICE hasn’t been on Johnson’s own block, she said officers have been active nearby and worries about her immigrant neighbors.
“We’re keeping our eyes open,” she said.
She compared the mood in Minnesota to Seattle's “under siege” atmosphere during the 1999 World Trade Organization protests, when she was living on Capitol Hill. Tension in the air. Troops in the streets.
Johnson recently went through training for volunteers working to shield young students from ICE on their way to and from school. She’s connected with many neighbors through social media groups and the Signal app, and she’s urging her Seattle friends and relatives to plug into those networks.
“Knowing those people you need to be in contact with,” she said.
Johnson said she thinks people in her adopted hometown coalesced partly because Minnesota’s harsh winters encourage supportive communities. She said she hopes Seattle neighborhoods have the capacity for that same cohesion.
“They’re coming for Seattle,” she said about ICE, channeling her own anxieties about the Emerald City rather than any specific signals from the Trump administration. “I strongly believe that.”
© 2026 The Seattle Times. Visit www.seattletimes.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.
