Why Fewer Black Residents Are Taking the Lead in Minneapolis Protests

Minneapolis is once again the visual center of the world as protests erupt following the killing of a resident by law enforcement. As images flood social media and cable news, the scenes feel familiar: crowds in the streets, chants echoing between buildings, a city bracing for another national reckoning. But something is noticeably different this time. The protests continue, yet many observers are asking why Black participation appears diminished.

In 2020, after the murder of George Floyd, Black-led organizing anchored the largest protest movement in the city’s history. That moment followed a lineage of Black resistance in Minneapolis, from the protests after the killing of Jamar Clark to the uprisings following the deaths of Philando Castile and Daunte Wright. In each case, Black organizers led, unified the message, and assumed the greatest personal risk.

Today, in the aftermath of the killing of Renee Good by Jonathan Ross, protests have again spread across the Twin Cities. Black people are present, but many have been vocal about choosing not to engage in the same ways they once did. Some have even pushed back against certain protest tactics. This shift has been interpreted by some as apathy or retreat. It is neither.

“This is the Northside, my daughter live over here. Y’all gonna back up.”

That moment, captured on video, came as a Black Minneapolis resident confronted a group of mostly white protesters following the second ICE-involved shooting. The concern wasn’t optics or respectability politics. It was safety. For many Black residents, the presence of ICE agents is not theoretical. It is an immediate threat to family, housing, and stability.

This perceived disengagement is not because Black people are unaffected by ICE or state violence. Stories of ICE encounters involving Black Minnesotans circulate widely online. What has changed is how risk is being calculated and who is expected to bear it.

Fatigue plays a role. After the most recent election, a familiar message echoed through Black communities: rest. Black voters once again organized, mobilized, and warned the country about what was at stake, only to see those warnings rejected at the ballot box. Now, as the consequences of that election become visible, many are unwilling to put their bodies on the line first yet again.

There is also a practical reality that outsiders often dismiss. In Minnesota, weather is not a footnote, it is a factor. Black Lives Matter protests unfolded largely in the summer. Today’s demonstrations persist through brutal cold. In conversations about showing up, a common refrain emerges: It’s too cold for that. Half joking, fully honest.

What some are calling a decline is better understood as an evolution. Black resistance has not disappeared; it has recalibrated. Fewer Black bodies in the streets does not mean less commitment to justice. It reflects hard-earned lessons about visibility, vulnerability, and the cost of always being first.

Minneapolis isn’t witnessing the absence of Black engagement. It is witnessing a community that understands survival itself is a political act.