I was in a high school production of ‘Anne Frank’ — today in Minnesota, I feel her fear more than ever

Demonstrators protest ICE deployment in St. Paul, Minn. Photo by Victor J. Blue/Bloomberg via Getty Images

I want to tell you what it is like in Minnesota right now.

I grew up in a small town in southeast Minnesota, right on the Mississippi. I graduated with 98 other classmates, most of whom I’d known since kindergarten. This was a predominantly white high school in a very white community of Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists and Episcopalians. I remember only one Jewish family with kids at my school, but none of those kids were in my grade and we didn’t participate in any of the same activities. I was raised Lutheran and didn’t really have an awareness or understanding of Judaism beyond “it’s another type of religion, kinda like being a Catholic.”

I was involved in the arts from a young age and grew up watching plays at the local high school, waiting for the day I’d finally be able to perform there myself. Every year the school did one big play in the fall and, in 2005, my freshman year, it was The Diary of Anne Frank. I auditioned and was cast as Peter van Daan.

As diligent young actors will, my castmates and I dove into research and watched Schindler’s List as part of our dramaturgy. I’d read some historical fiction set in the time period around World War II and had learned about the Holocaust in school, but other than The Sound of Music, this was the first time it was more than words on a page.

We brought our newfound sense of understanding to rehearsal, but the play was still set in the 1940s. Yes, it was a story of real people, but it took place in the past and we were all Gentiles so there was still a sense that we were just pretending to understand. Even though it was realism, this was always a story, and there was always some distancing from it (In college, I would learn that this was a hint of what Bertolt Brecht called Verfremdungseffekt). After curtain call, we took our high school theater make-up off and went to Perkins for a cast party, leaving Anne’s story on the stage.

In 2009, I moved to Minneapolis, and in 2017, I moved to the Central Neighborhood. For the next four years, I lived four blocks from where Derek Chauvin would murder George Floyd in 2020. In 2021, I moved just across the interstate to the next neighborhood over and, since then, have lived eight blocks from where, on Jan. 7, 2026, Jonathan Ross shot Renee Nicole Good in the face and killed her.

The influx of federal agents to Minnesota began before the murder of Renee, but the surge that has followed and the devastation, chaos and destruction are unlike anything I ever thought I would witness in my lifetime.

In May 2020, a curfew was placed on the city after George Floyd was murdered and the city dared to demand justice. On the second or third sleepless night of the uprising, I watched several of my neighbors walk to the corner of the block to check out a loud noise. Within 30 seconds they were surrounded by officers from the police department and the National Guard. They began to flee back to their homes as the officers tried to grab and arrest them for breaking curfew. My roommates and I saw what was happening and stepped out on our front steps, screaming that those were our neighbors, that they lived there, and to just let them go inside.

For the mere act of standing on our front steps and advocating for our neighbors, officers pointed their guns at our faces and ordered us back in the house. They did end up letting the neighbors go, but made sure to roll what felt like an entire battalion of officers and tanks down my quiet residential side street afterwards. I’ve been mugged before, but that was the most unsafe I had ever personally felt in this city.

Since Jan. 7 of this year, I have felt even less safe. The scale of the reign of terror currently being enacted upon the Twin Cities and all across the state is truly unfathomable. A general sense of fear pervades the air. We all know that each of us is at a different level of risk, but we all feel like possible targets of the regime, whether because of the color of our skin or because we dared to say that what is happening here is wrong.

Schools were closed after federal agents descended on Roosevelt High during pick-up. Elected officials, including the president of the Minneapolis City Council, have been assaulted while advocating for their constituents and simply observing and documenting the activity of federal agents. Many of these agents do not wear official uniforms. They cover their faces. They drive around our neighborhoods recklessly. Families are in hiding and fear answering the door. Workers are staying home and struggling to pay rent or buy groceries because they are afraid to leave their homes.

Federal agents are abducting our neighbors. They are going through red lights and ramming people’s cars. They are taking people from bus stops, hospitals, workplaces, schools, daycares, and even from their homes. They lie to our faces and they seem to take pleasure in it. They are demanding to see identification on the street, based on nothing other than skin color. They are kicking down doors, entering homes without judicial warrants, and kidnapping residents. They are tear-gassing our business corridors. Beloved local small businesses are closing or have reduced hours because they don’t have enough staff to stay open — because the staff has been abducted by the feds and whisked away to another state before their families and attorneys could find them, or they are afraid to leave their homes because this might happen to them. Unsurprisingly, Minnesota’s corporate leadership remains silent while masked goons abduct their employees who are on the clock.

None of this is just. None of this is right. And certainly none of this is good or moral.

I no longer feel distanced from Anne Frank’s reality. I know that there have always been horrors in this world, but there is new urgency and fear when this happens in your community. In her diary, Anne wrote that in spite of everything, she still believed that people are really good at heart. I am working to hold onto that hope as well. I do believe that people are good, that it is better to care for our neighbors, and in the words of the late Senator Wellstone, we all do better when we all do better.

Minneapolis believes in this too. The community is taking care of each other. Like Miep Gies, we are donating to food banks and delivering food to those who aren’t able to leave their homes. Notaries roam to witness signatures on paperwork. People are raising money to cover rent for those unable to work. Parents and community members are patrolling daycares and schools during drop-off and pick-up to make sure their kids, teachers and staff are safe. The incredible teachers are offering distance learning options for students who don’t feel safe attending in person. We are whistling and banging drums and letting these agents know that when this is all over, justice will find every one of the miserable souls that ripped apart families and attempted to destroy our community with hate, fear and oppression.

I want to tell you all this because I want you to be prepared if they come to your neighborhoods.

I want to tell you this because we need you to be loud and clear with us that what is happening right now is not ok.

I want to tell you this because there are more of us than there are of them, and the way that Minnesotans of all backgrounds have come pouring out into the streets in the cold, showing up for their neighbors, is the way that we will win. We take care of us.