This country is killing our right to exist in public, with tactics ranging from bureaucratic to militant. Whether it’s the DMV invalidating drivers licenses of trans people overnight, or ICE deploying “less-lethal” munitions on city sidewalks, now is the moment for us to connect these dots and refuse to allow any more of us to be pushed to the shadows.

The violence was literal here in Minneapolis this winter, where ICE agents under Operation Metro Surge openly hunted, kidnapped, and shot our neighbors in the streets I walk daily. ICE abducted an estimated 4000 residents: taking people from homes, bus stops, and places of work. Many retreated from day-to-day life — unable to go to work, school, or even medical appointments out of fear of being targeted.

Abductions in local parks, chemical weapons deployed in front of apartments, and the public killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti were circulated online and across national news. With this came sustained pushback from the people on the ground. In Minneapolis, we did our best to engage with each other in new ways, to build systems of collectivity, and form a new public of sorts, built on mutual aid.

Anti-Trans Legislation

Armed attacks in broad daylight are not the only ways our ability to move freely within our own communities is becoming restricted. The anti-transgender movement that is tearing across the country is a particularly effective breeding ground for new legislation denying people’s participation in daily life based on identity. 

While Operation Metro Surge raged in Minnesota, SB244 passed in Kansas, revoking hundreds of trans people’s drivers licenses on the grounds that they had changed their gender marker (M or F) to align with their identity. The law, which advocates call “a cruel and craven threat to public safety,” was vetoed by Governor Kelly but passed by the state legislature. SB244 incentivizes members of the public to report individuals suspected of using a bathroom that doesn’t align with their sex assigned at birth, encouraging a culture of aggression towards trans people in public spaces. At the heart of this disturbing law is a similar motivating belief as Operation Metro Surge: groups of individuals can be deemed “illegal” based on identity and removed by force of law. 

With SB244, many Kansans immediately became unable to legally drive. A Kansas Dept of Revenue’s webpage titled “Gender Reclassification” describes the requirement for trans Kansans to surrender their drivers licenses, with promises to receive a “corrected” document by mail. The domino effect of this law is yet to be fully seen, but individuals’ ability to vote, work, travel, and meet basic needs has undoubtedly been impacted. Harper Seldin with the ACLU’s LGBTQ & HIV Rights Project commented: “SB244 is a transparent attempt to deny transgender people autonomy over their own identities and push them out of public life altogether.” In addition to the immediate harm to trans Kansans, this law sets an alarming precedent as a tool of disenfranchisement. Given no warning or recourse, a class of people statewide was barred from previously held rights. Anti-trans laws aren’t new, but SB244 is particularly concerning for anyone whose access to public life can be targeted through administrative channels. If normalized, these tactics could likely be wielded against other politically targeted groups.

Minnesota's Role

As a trans person, I must point out that I am writing from Minneapolis, Minnesota, one of the most protected places to be trans. Minnesota’s Trans Refuge Act passed in 2023 and since then our state has steadily attracted an influx of trans people fleeing places such as Kansas with repressive anti-LGBTQ legislation. In 2022 Minnesota was recorded as having the highest percentage (1.2%) of trans adults in the country. Four years later, we can only assume this has grown.

I see this statistic reflected in the faces of strangers, peers, my broader community — all populated with fellow trans people. Minneapolis has become a hub of trans life lived in public, in a time where on average it is pretty harrowing to be publicly trans. In conversations with my community about what makes us feel safe, the usual answer is how often we see each other on the street, at work, in classrooms, or at the DMV. Trans people are the Minnesota public. 

However, numbers and current protections should not lead us to become complacent. Operation Metro Surge showed us how vulnerable we are to federal action, and what happened in Kansas demonstrates that there are many avenues of suppression that we must still guard against. We must lean into the political power of our collective presence and enshrine our rights in our state constitution and at all levels of government — as well as in the streets. Rather than shrink, we must show up against any and all attempts to disappear our neighbors. Taking lessons from ICE-watch, we can create new systems of resiliency and refuse to normalize a culture of surveillance and disappearance.

In order to defend our right to exist fully in public, we — cis and trans people — must recognize patterns of suppression across issues. What impacts trans people impacts everyone. What impacts immigrants impacts everyone. With the recent trauma of Metro Surge, Minneapolis understands our government’s commitment to violence. And as a trans refuge state, Minnesota holds a responsibility to establish a trans stronghold against a tide of disenfranchisement. While the federal administration builds new mechanisms to isolate and erase our neighbors, we must fight to ensure that they — we— are here to stay.

The views, thoughts and opinions expressed in this blog are the author’s only and do not reflect an official position of the University of Minnesota, the Human Rights Program, or the College of Liberal Arts. As an institution of higher education that values and promotes free speech, civil discourse, and human rights, we welcome a variety of perspectives and opinions from our student contributors that are consistent with these values.