Pan African News Blog
The vibrant hum of commerce that once defined Minnesota’s immigrant marketplaces has been replaced by an eerie silence. At Mercado Central in Minneapolis and Karmel Mall in St. Paul—hubs for Latino and Somali entrepreneurs—shoppers have disappeared, vendors are struggling to pay rent, and the simple act of buying groceries has become an act of courage .
Across the Twin Cities, a fierce immigration enforcement offensive known as “Operation Metro Surge” is now in its third month, and its collateral damage is clearest where immigrant communities shop and gather. From the bustling corridors of Lake Street to the riverside markets of St. Paul, businesses that rely on immigrant customers—both documented and undocumented—are watching their livelihoods collapse as fear keeps shoppers at home .
The Economic Toll: $20 Million a Week
The numbers are staggering. The City of Minneapolis estimates the region is losing $20 million each week in economic activity. A survey by the city’s convention and visitors bureau found that 72% of employers—including hotels, retailers, and arts organizations—have experienced canceled, postponed, or reduced sales .
For Henry Garnica, a naturalized U.S. citizen from Colombia who owns CentroMex Grocery in East St. Paul, the nightmare began December 11 when over a dozen federal agents surrounded his store without a warrant. He refused them entry, but the damage was done. Four of his ten workers have stopped coming to work, too terrified to leave their homes. Sales have plummeted 45%. He now keeps his doors locked, opening only for occasional customers .
“Many small businesses have shut down,” Garnica said. “It’s not good for the economy, it’s not good for families, it’s not good for anybody” .
Markets Under Siege
The Latino Economic Development Center, a nonprofit lender serving immigrant entrepreneurs, reports that only one-fifth of its clients are operating normally. Half are experiencing what the organization describes as “critical” damage .
Mercado Central, a beloved indoor market on Lake Street that once bustled with families buying Latin American groceries, clothing, and restaurants, now stands eerily quiet. The same fate has befallen Karmel Mall in St. Paul, a gathering place for Somali-owned eateries and shops where Pan African consumers once found everything from halal meat to traditional textiles and cultural goods .
Oscar Murcia, who emigrated from El Salvador in 2000 and built El Guanaco restaurant into four locations, closed his Minneapolis outlet after traffic dropped 80%. He’s cut hours and staff at his remaining stores and is begging landlords for rent relief. Four of his 64 employees—all with work permits and pending asylum applications—have been detained .
“We have to start over with half shift, maybe half employees,” Murcia said. “It’s going to take a while to grow up again” .
‘No ICE’ Signs and Fortified Doors
Along Lake Street in South Minneapolis, a corridor rich with Latino and immigrant entrepreneurship, a defiant visual landscape has emerged. Mom-and-pop restaurants have hung signs reading “No ICE” in their windows. At Pineda Tacos, trash cans barricade the rear entrance while employees guard the front door, letting customers in one by one .
“We have plan A, plan B and plan C,” said owner Luis Reyes Rojas, describing escape routes to offices and basements in case agents appear. “We don’t know how much longer we can endure this” .
The fear is not abstract. In one high-profile incident, ICE agents killed 37-year-old Renee Good in her vehicle during an operation, sparking mass protests . At a Target store in Richfield, agents detained two workers—both U.S. citizens, including a 17-year-old employee .
Legal Lines, Human Consequences
Legal experts say businesses have rights, but exercising them requires courage most terrified owners cannot muster. ICE agents can enter public areas of businesses—like store floors and parking lots—without a warrant. But they need permission or a judicial warrant (not merely an administrative warrant from the Department of Homeland Security) to enter employee-only spaces .
Some businesses are fighting back. At Hola Arepa in Minneapolis, General Manager Naomi Rathke refused ICE agents entry to the back of house when they demanded access without a warrant. “They said, ‘We don’t need a warrant.’ I said, ‘Yes, you do'” .
Others are distributing tools for resistance. Mischief Toy Store in St. Paul began giving away free whistles so citizens could alert neighbors to ICE presence. Hours after ABC News aired a segment featuring the store’s anti-ICE stance, plainclothes agents arrived and served the business with a Notice of Inspection demanding I-9 employment records—a move the owners view as retaliation .
“We’re pretty sure this was used as harassment,” said co-owner Dan Marshall. “This is an attempt to silence us and it’s going to do the opposite” .
Corporate Silence Amid Community Pain
While small immigrant-owned businesses struggle in plain sight, Minnesota’s corporate giants have remained conspicuously quiet. Seventeen Fortune 500 companies are based in Minnesota, including Target, UnitedHealth, and General Mills. Yet none would speak on the record about immigration enforcement’s impact, and their websites have not addressed the federal actions or civil unrest .
The silence stands in stark contrast to 2020, when many corporations spoke out following George Floyd’s killing. Bill George, a Harvard Business School fellow and former Minneapolis executive, called the silence a mistake.
“It is disappointing to me that we don’t hear their voices,” George said. “They’re charged with the safety, security and well-being of their employees” .
A Tipping Point for Immigrant Communities
Ryan Allen, associate dean for research at the University of Minnesota’s School of Public Affairs, has studied the region’s immigrant communities for years. He worries about a permanent tipping point.
“For local businesses that have thin profit margins and are not highly capitalized, if this continues much longer it’s hard to see how many of them are going to survive,” Allen said .
Ingrid Rasmussen, pastor of Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in Minneapolis, has spent her entire discretionary budget helping local businesses pay bills. “The need is so astronomical,” she said. “We could be collecting funds for the next five years and never meet what we’re experiencing in terms of economic devastation” .
The Bottom Line
The Department of Homeland Security defends its actions, with a spokesperson stating: “If there was any correlation between rampant illegal immigration and a good economy, Biden would have had a booming economy. Removing these criminals from the streets makes communities safer for business owners and customers” .
But on the ground, the distinction between “criminal” and “customer” has blurred beyond recognition. When immigrant communities cannot shop without fear, everyone loses—the vendors, the landlords, the delivery drivers, and the families who once gathered at waterside markets to taste the flavors of home.
For now, the stalls sit empty, the whistles wait in hands, and Minnesota’s immigrant entrepreneurs brace for another day of survival.
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