The deadly shooting of Renee Nicole Good on Jan. 7, 2026, has undoubtedly rocked the nation, serving as a catalyst for widespread protest in Minneapolis and far beyond. This likely isn’t new information to most, as every major news and media outlet has released report after report on the aftermath of this tragedy, painting the picture of a violence-stricken, brutal landscape ebbing with outrage and savagery.
From the early aftermath following this devastating fatality, portrayals of the Minneapolis community have been focused primarily on the disorder and divide between people. Good’s death has been twisted into the narrative of victim-blaming by many. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem claimed that Good had “weaponized her vehicle” against ICE officers in an act of “domestic terrorism.” Even in the days following, the main focus of news coverage has been on the sparks of retaliation, capturing a landscape of tear gas and terror as citizens and officers go head-to-head in the once peaceful streets.
This is the view that an outsider takes away. A community fragmented, neighbors turned against each other and a loud and dangerous uproar from all angles. There may be some truth in this. However, the tides of change often take the form of something far more ordinary than fighting solely on the front lines. This snapshot is only a piece of the full picture.
The narratives frequently forgotten are those of the quieter majority. The unsung individuals of a seemingly crumbling community, the names not uttered or known by mainstream media. However, these stories always find ways toseep through the cracks.
Behind the burning passion of protesters taking to the streets, chasing down ICE vehicles and directly facing the dangers of officers protected by “federal immunity”, lies the backbone of an entire community playing the often-forgotten roles in revolution: caretakers, educators, storytellers, artists, frontline responders and community builders.
What many major networks will not sell to you is the fact that the community is still very much intact, if not stronger than before, in Minnesota and beyond. There is coverage of a grieving community, of people coming together in solidarity. In my own experience, the bulk of stories representing the more raw, “ordinary” firsthand experiences of people living within the aftermath come not from household networks, but rather from small creators on TikTok and Instagram.
From Minneapolis, cell phone footage circulates of neighbors wielding whistles, guarding streetcorners. Residents announce the return to distance learning as ICE vehicles gather to poach students leaving school. Teachers speak about the fears of their elementary students. Families of the deported tell their stories. Faith groups mark the sites of abductions. Volunteers drive immigrants to work to avoid the risk of public transport. Local restaurants gather goods, food and funds for those who cannot risk leaving home.
And from far beyond the shaken city, countless points of view from ordinary people emerge. Crowds sing together in the streets. Young students of many ages and backgrounds march out of class to rally together. Musicians play within masses of protesters. People use their platforms to spread information to those who feel severed from the situation.
Behind the narratives of danger and divide captured on the front lines lies perhaps an even greater threat to the status quo: unity.
As the general public’s opinion of officers sours significantly, people across the country become increasingly vocal with their disapproval. At the heart of it all, Minneapolis residents hold strong in the defense of their neighbors by directly resisting the indiscriminate removal of community members, U.S. citizens or otherwise. However, the greatest act of resistance shown by the people of Minneapolis is that they continue to live their lives.
The underlying intention of ICE as an organization is to uproot community, destroy trust and turn neighbors against each other. Miraculously, though, the opposite is happening. As proven time and time again throughout history, tragedy has the innate ability to unite people despite seemingly polarizing circumstances.
As in any era of great change, the sentiment echoed the most is “why should I keep living my life with so many things happening around me?” The answer to this is demonstrated in the determination of those affected by this andcountless other injustices which have occurred: because you must.
To stop living in times of unpredictability is to roll over and surrender. It is exactly what those who prey on apathy and fear want.
But to continue to pursue one’s passions, to be a good neighbor and to uphold humanity and hope even as people are pitted against each other?
That is the greatest act of resistance one could ever achieve.