Beneath the concrete arteries of Minneapolis’ highway system lies Cedar-Riverside, a neighborhood undergoing a profound transformation. It’s becoming a place distinctly Somali, a vibrant enclave carved out of a traditionally Midwestern landscape.
The remnants of a former era are visible along the main street – faded storefronts like “Western World,” an outerwear supplier that once defined the area, now stand as silent witnesses to change. Each new business that opens, however, reflects a growing Somali presence, reshaping the neighborhood’s identity.
Block by block, the brutalist architecture of the Riverside towers, now largely inhabited by Somali residents, overlooks a scene increasingly reminiscent of Africa, a striking contrast against the backdrop of Minnesota winters. This isn’t a new phenomenon in American history; immigrant communities have often sought familiarity and connection within their own groups.
But the Somali community in Minnesota is different. They are not only building a distinct cultural space, but also actively pursuing and achieving political influence, extending far beyond their neighborhood and reaching into the state legislature and even the halls of Congress.
This rise in power has coincided with growing concerns, particularly in the wake of a massive alleged fraud scandal. Billions of dollars earmarked for feeding children may have been misappropriated by organizations with close ties to the Somali community, sparking frustration among long-time residents.
“There’s no real accounting for any of this,” one resident expressed, voicing a common worry. “Taxes continue to rise, and yet there’s no accountability for where the money goes.” The sheer scale of the alleged fraud, and the involvement of individuals within the Somali community, highlights the extent of their political reach.
Even those sympathetic to immigrants acknowledge a sense of separation. One woman, Jane, admitted, “They kind of have their own thing going on.” A local restaurant owner observed that members of the community often receive substantial government benefits, including rent credits, and sometimes show little inclination to seek employment.
The debate over assimilation echoes a broader national conversation. A recent suggestion from a mayor in Michigan – that America should be a “salad” rather than a “melting pot” – ignited discussion about the importance of preserving cultural norms. While separate communities have existed in America for centuries, they haven’t typically sought widespread political power.
Historically, political influence has been earned through assimilation, the understanding that elected officials must represent the interests of all constituents. Even when Somali voters support candidates outside their community, like Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey, they remain a crucial voting bloc that demands attention.
This dynamic may explain why allegations of fraud went unaddressed for so long. Concerns about appearing prejudiced, coupled with the community’s political strength, may have led officials to avoid scrutiny. The question isn’t whether assimilation is possible, but whether it’s desired.
The desire for separation is evident in everyday life. “Ramadpay” signs adorn many storefronts, advertising a money wire service that facilitates cash transfers to Muslim countries. This network reinforces connections to the homeland, further solidifying the community’s distinct identity.
The Somali community, including leaders like Representative Ilhan Omar, faces a critical choice: embrace assimilation and integrate fully into the American political landscape, or maintain its isolation. However, exerting political pressure while simultaneously rejecting oversight is a path that cannot continue.
In Cedar-Riverside, the closed doors of Western World represent more than just a failed business. It symbolizes the growing tension between traditional Minnesota values and alleged corruption within the Somali community. As more issues come to light, this tension is only expected to intensify.
