I couldn’t tell you why, but when it’s time for the get-to-know-you questions at the start of every semester, job, or social event, my default is to talk about where I grew up. I talk about how I moved to Florida in the middle of high school, was in California during the pandemic, and then I get to that last (well, really first) place. I get to Minnesota, I get to home.
For those of you who’ve moved around, but spent just enough time in each place to get to know it before going to the next, you might know the feeling I’m about to describe. Seeing the beauty each place has to offer, meeting people I never would have met if I hadn’t moved there, and experiencing opportunities no other place could offer. But you also know that home, really, isn’t a place, at least not yet. Yet that first location, where it all started, is a place that is so deeply a part of you that it can’t exactly be treated the same as all the other places you’ve lived. At least, that’s the case for me.
It’s the Minnesota sports teams that I will always cheer for, no matter how badly we’re losing. It’s in those lakes that I will remember boating in the summer. It’s that snow I will remember playing in every winter. Most importantly, even though most of them are strangers now, it’s that community, those people, that are mine.
Again, I really don’t know why that’s the case. I don’t have any family there, and it’s not like I go back a ton. Maybe it’s because that’s where I was born and built my own community, maybe it’s because it’s where I’ve lived the longest. Regardless, it’s Minnesota that will always share the title of home with wherever else I eventually settle down. It’s the people of Minnesota that I will always feel connected to, and no matter how far I move, that connection remains as strong as ever, especially when they are hurting.
I find it ironic that every time Minnesota hurts, I’m in a completely different state. When George Floyd was killed in the summer of 2020, I was in California. When Minneapolis daycares were investigated, and tensions with Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) resulted in the death of two U.S. citizens and the detention of a five-year-old, I was in Florida.
I knew those people. No, I didn’t personally know George Floyd, Renee Good, Alex Pretti, or Liam Conejo Ramos, personally, but I knew people exactly like them. I knew the culture, comfort, and love my Somali nannies gave my siblings and me, as if we were their own children. I knew the neighbors who would welcome you with open arms and treat you with kindness, those who would do right by others, just like Good. I knew the medical professionals who saved lives day in and day out and would do the same for people protesting on the streets like Pretti. I knew the kids who would always be there for each other, during a competitive football game on the playground or when someone’s family is hurting, like Ramos and his friends. I knew the community that would show up, always, when things got hard, and you couldn’t handle it all on your own.
Maybe that’s why I can’t let Minnesota go the same way I did every other state. I said earlier that if you’ve moved around enough, you will know that home really isn’t a place, and as many before me have said, home is the people you find. California gave me my best friend, and I’ll always be grateful to Florida for introducing me to people I would’ve never met otherwise. But maybe the reason I was always able to leave those places, those people, in a way I couldn’t part with fellow Vikings fans, is that I knew that they were what made up my home.
That’s how I also know the strength of Minnesotans. I may have witnessed some of their most trying times from across the country, but I know that under that funny little accent (even I still have a hint of it after moving so long ago), that instinctive kindness, and all those warm layers, lies the same strength that those Nordic Vikings or those gray wolves have. We might not be as large as New York or L.A., and you might not mess with Texas, but I assure you, if you mess with Minnesota, you will find out… (with the typical Minnesota politeness, of course).
So, to Minnesota, know that this wandering Minnesotan hasn’t forgotten you, and while it’s not likely I will move back, you remain my home in a way no other place could compare to. To my Minnesotans, I feel all your hurt, frustration, and struggle, but I also know your love, compassion, and strength, and I know that you will not stop fighting until all of you are protected and safe.
To the rest of the country, keep your eyes on Minnesota. It doesn’t hold the same numbers as the rest of the nation, but it holds a power deep inside of it, and it’s only just being unlocked.