“I’m scared to drive my kids to school.” In Minneapolis, fear has become daily life.
In Minneapolis, fear has become a routine—measured not in headlines, but in meals delivered to doorsteps and children kept indoors.
Volunteers with Dios Habla Hoy Church say they now spend five to six days a week packing and delivering food to more than 10,000 families who are too afraid to leave their homes amid heightened immigration enforcement. The fear follows an increase in activity by Immigration and Customs Enforcement under Operation Metro Surge.
Federal officials insist the operation targets individuals with active deportation orders. But on the ground, many residents— including those who say they are in the country legally—report being swept up by anxiety over racial profiling and aggressive enforcement tactics.
Cristina, a Twin Cities woman who asked that her real name not be used, says her family has largely stayed indoors for two weeks. Her husband leaves only for work. Their children leave mainly to attend church.
“I’m still afraid of going out. I’m still afraid of driving my kids to school,” she said. “I get panic attacks even when my husband has to leave.”
Cristina is a recipient of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, the Obama-era program that allows immigrants brought to the United States as children to live and work legally without fear of deportation. Yet even with that protection, she says fear dominates daily life.
“I worry about racial profiling,” she said, adding that her greatest fear is what would happen to her children if she or her husband were taken into custody.
For now, Cristina is able to work from home, but she is uncertain how long that option will last. The isolation, she says, is taking a psychological toll—not just on her family, but across the community.
Pastors and volunteers say the need for food deliveries reflects a deeper crisis. Businesses are quieter. Parents are keeping children home. Families are rationing supplies rather than risk being seen outside.
Cristina chose to speak publicly for one reason.
“Hopefully this can touch some hearts,” she said. “So people can see our struggle, see that we are human, that we are scared—and that we’re not doing anything wrong.”
As immigration enforcement intensifies and political debate continues in Washington, families like Cristina’s are left navigating a reality where legal status offers little comfort—and fear dictates the boundaries of everyday life.
