Issue link: https://nnumagazine.uberflip.com/i/1544067
meeting with immigrant rights groups like Unidos MN, faith organi- zations, other labor unions—especially those that represent a large number of immigrant workers in the service and hospitality sectors, and legal aid groups. MNA created badge buddies printed with instructions for nurses about how to protect patients' rights, a sen- tence to say out loud to agents, and a QR code for more resources. MNA members quickly plugged into both workplace-based and community-based networks to provide mutual aid and support, including using existing contract negotiation and bargaining unit networks to establish safe ride carpools, parking lot escorts, grocery delivery, and in-case-of-emergency plans for coworkers to deploy so that households could be notified, family lawyers called, and children picked up from schools and day cares in case anyone went missing. The needs were extensive because almost all at-risk Minnesotans had stopped making unnecessary trips and were staying at home. "It almost brings me to tears to think about the horrors of the reality we are dealing with, but also feeling heartened and hopeful seeing the solidarity, the compassion, the care that members were showing for each other," said Rubesch of all the creative and ongoing mutual aid everybody was providing. "Just the power in seeing people stepping up and coming together." NNU members in Maine, which was also targeted for all-out assault by ICE starting Jan. 21 in operation "Catch of the Day," watched and learned from their colleagues in Minnesota. Maine Medical Center RN Kelli Brennan in Portland said it felt like their city had been attacked overnight. In one day, everyone started seeing news reports and social media videos of immigrants and Black and brown Mainers getting pulled over, arrested, cars left running with doors open in the middle of the street, ICE agents showing up in grocery store parking lots. When ICE almost immediately detained a member of the housekeeping staff at Maine Med, that news rever- berated throughout the hospital like a shockwave. Scared to death of being nabbed while going to and from work, environmental services staff began calling out en masse, with about 30 percent ultimately not feeling safe to go to work. Soon after, nurses learned that a new father who had made a trip home to get his wife's personal items after an emergency C-section had been nabbed. The nurses got to work, not only lobbying the hospital to set pol- icy and use its resources to protect employees, but also establishing those mutual aid networks that prove so invaluable in helping fam- ilies meet their everyday needs. The nurses successfully convinced the hospital to make changes, such as moving the weekly food bank to an indoor, nonpublic location, and diverting some of its employee parking lot shuttles to pick up and drop off staff at their front doors. Brennan herself immediately began giving coworkers rides to work. The day after the surge started, Brennan was driving a unit secre- tary coworker to the hospital around 6:15 in the morning when she noticed men standing around in a driveway with cars. Brennan was already a member of the networks of neighborhood patrols report- ing ICE sightings, cars, and license plates to rapid response groups, so she pulled into a parking lot across the street and began filming the men. She never spoke to them, honked, or made any noise—just watched and documented. The group soon made her aware that they knew she was filming by flashing lights at her. A little spooked, she decided to leave and concen- trate on just safely delivering her coworker to work. But some of the people got into a car and followed her. "Stay calm, it's probably local police and not even ICE," she thought to herself. At the next stoplight, they pulled up next to her, rolled down their window, and stared her down. She rolled her own window down, and that's when the ICE agent called her a "Karen" and tried to peer inside her car. When Bren- nan used colorful language to tell them to leave her city, she said the agent sneered that he would "arrest three more families today, just for [her]" and sped off. Brennan and her coworker were stunned by the cruel attitude of the agent, and sat in silent shock for a while, crying. "ICE is just feeding this racist appetite," said Brennan. "I felt awful that my coworker was exposed to that. We were disgusted." ICE presence has slowed in Portland and instead crept into other agricultural areas of Maine, but Brennan still drives around on her days off, reporting suspicious vehicles and staying vigilant. And she is glad to report that both the housekeeper and new father who were kidnapped have been released for the moment on bond. "They try to intimidate us," said Brennan. "But we won't be intimi- dated." Rubesch and Turner both expressed the same sentiment: Deter- mination while facing our fears. Turner said that these days, she is wary of driving on the freeway and she's constantly scanning the cars around her for SUVs with tinted win- dows. "But then I continue to show up because I remember, 'This is what these assholes want,' " said Turner. "This is not America. This is not how it should be. It takes more courage to keep going when you are afraid." Rubesch said the first reaction among nurses when they see or hear of terrible violence by ICE against Minnesotans is often fear. "But the second emotion is resolve," he added. The hopeful outcome of the crimes his state has suffered at the hands of federal agents is that "everything that's happened has changed their frame and gotten them to engage." W hile ice and customs and Border Patrol (CPB) activities have slowed down in Minnesota and Maine, they have not stopped, and Rubesch said mutual aid and nurse organizing will continue for as long as it is needed. Minnesota nurses are now moving beyond responding to the immediate safety crisis and working 20 N A T I O N A L N U R S E W W W . N A T I O N A L N U R S E S U N I T E D . O R G J A N U A R Y | F E B R U A R Y | M A R C H 2 0 2 6