When President Trump claimed Somalis have “destroyed Minnesota” and “caused a lot of trouble,” he wasn’t just attacking a specific immigrant community—he was reigniting America’s oldest and most persistent debate: who gets to be American? Minneapolis City Council member Jamal Osman’s invitation for Trump to visit, put down the hamburger, and try some sambusa reveals something profound about our national moment. This isn’t merely about immigration policy; it’s about whether America can reconcile its founding ideals with its historical treatment of those deemed “other.”
Trump’s Rhetoric Ignores Demographic Reality
The facts directly contradict the President’s characterization. Nearly 58% of Somalis in Minnesota were born in the United States, making them American by any definition. Of those born elsewhere, 87% are naturalized citizens. These aren’t statistics that support claims of an invasive foreign presence—they demonstrate a community that has followed America’s traditional immigration pathway to citizenship and integration.
This pattern of mischaracterization serves a specific political purpose. By framing Somalis as perpetual foreigners regardless of citizenship status or birthplace, Trump employs what scholars call “perpetual foreigner syndrome”—a rhetorical device with deep historical roots in American politics. Similar tactics were deployed against Chinese Americans through the Chinese Exclusion Act, Japanese Americans during internment, and Italian and Irish immigrants in the early 20th century. Each time, the targeted group was portrayed as inherently un-American despite their legal status or contributions.
The Economic Contribution Narrative Shouldn’t Be Required
Council member Osman’s reference to Karmel Mall and cultural contributions represents a common defensive posture immigrant communities are forced to adopt. While the economic and cultural contributions of Somali Americans are substantial—with Somali-owned businesses generating millions in economic activity in the Twin Cities—the requirement that immigrants justify their existence through economic utility reveals a troubling standard not applied to native-born citizens.
The Cedar-Riverside neighborhood, sometimes called “Little Mogadishu,” has become an entrepreneurial hub with hundreds of Somali-owned businesses. A 2018 study by the Minnesota Business Immigration Coalition found that immigrant-owned businesses (including many Somali establishments) created over 32,000 jobs in the state. Yet focusing exclusively on economic contributions misses the more fundamental question: should any American’s right to belong be contingent on their economic output?
Federal Operations and Collective Punishment
The timing of Trump’s comments alongside ICE and DHS operations in Minneapolis suggests a dangerous convergence of rhetoric and enforcement. State Representative Mohamud Noor’s characterization of these actions as “collective punishment” rather than targeted enforcement deserves serious consideration. When enforcement actions follow inflammatory rhetoric targeting specific communities, the distinction between policy implementation and political intimidation blurs.
This pattern mirrors historical precedents like Operation Wetback in the 1950s, which targeted Mexican Americans regardless of citizenship status, or post-9/11 surveillance programs disproportionately focused on Muslim Americans. In both cases, enforcement became indistinguishable from political messaging, with devastating consequences for civil liberties. The American Immigration Council documented that between 2008 and 2018, ICE mistakenly detained over 1,400 U.S. citizens—demonstrating how rhetoric that frames certain groups as perpetually suspect leads to constitutional violations.
The Weaponization of Identity Politics
CAIR MN Executive Director Jaylani Hussein’s observation that Trump is selectively targeting “the Blackest immigrant and Muslim community” highlights the intersectional nature of this rhetoric. The Somali community sits at the convergence of multiple identities that have historically faced marginalization—Black, immigrant, and predominantly Muslim. This makes them particularly vulnerable to political scapegoating that can mobilize multiple forms of bias simultaneously.
The strategic value of this targeting becomes evident when examining voting patterns. Minnesota has become increasingly competitive politically, with razor-thin margins in recent elections. Creating a narrative that associates demographic change with social problems serves to mobilize voters who feel threatened by such changes. Similar rhetoric has been deployed in other swing states with significant immigrant populations, suggesting a calculated political strategy rather than genuine policy concerns.
Alternative Viewpoints: The Security Argument
Proponents of increased enforcement and scrutiny of immigrant communities often cite security concerns as justification. They point to isolated incidents of crime or terrorism as evidence that greater vigilance is necessary. This perspective argues that protecting the nation’s security sometimes requires measures that may appear discriminatory but serve a greater purpose.
However, this argument collapses under empirical scrutiny. Multiple studies, including a comprehensive analysis by the Cato Institute, have found that immigrants—including refugees—commit crimes at lower rates than native-born citizens. A 2021 study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that increases in immigration are consistently associated with decreases in violent crime. The security argument thus appears to be more about perception than reality, driven by confirmation bias rather than evidence.
Redefining American Identity
The most powerful aspect of Osman’s response was his simple assertion that many Somalis are “as American as you are.” This statement challenges the fundamental premise of exclusionary rhetoric—that there exists some authentic American identity that immigrants threaten rather than enhance.
Throughout American history, each new wave of immigrants has faced similar accusations before eventually being incorporated into an expanded definition of American identity. The Irish were once considered incompatible with American democracy; now St. Patrick’s Day is a national celebration. Italian Americans were once viewed with suspicion; today Italian cuisine is quintessentially American. The current debate about Somali Americans is simply the latest chapter in America’s ongoing negotiation of its identity.
The question isn’t whether Somali Americans will eventually be accepted as fully American—history suggests they will—but rather how much unnecessary suffering and division will occur before that acceptance takes place. And more importantly, whether America can break this cycle of exclusion followed by eventual acceptance that has characterized its immigration history.
Conclusion
The exchange between President Trump and Minneapolis leaders represents more than a political spat—it’s a referendum on competing visions of American identity. Is America defined by specific cultural, religious, or ethnic characteristics, or by adherence to civic ideals and participation in democratic processes? The answer has profound implications for how we approach not just immigration policy but fundamental questions of citizenship and belonging.
What makes Council member Osman’s invitation so powerful is its inherent optimism—the belief that exposure and understanding can overcome division. It suggests that America’s strength lies not in cultural homogeneity but in its capacity to incorporate diverse influences while maintaining core democratic values. As we navigate increasingly polarized debates about immigration and national identity, this vision offers a path forward that honors both America’s traditions and its aspirations.
