Moving forward means showing up

They say love conquers all. But today, hate calls the shots.

On Jan. 7 in Minneapolis, a 37-year-old Minneapolis woman, Renee Good, was shot and killed by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent in broad daylight during a federal immigration enforcement operation, just blocks from schools, and local businesses. A family lost a mother. A child lost a parent. A neighborhood was left grieving, afraid, and angry.

That same afternoon, federal immigration agents appeared at Roosevelt High School during dismissal, tackling people, detaining staff, and releasing chemical agents on bystanders. Armed, masked agents faced off with protesters as whistles blew and crowds shouted. Some students were involved in altercations. Others sheltered at a nearby library.

The school is only three miles from where Good was killed. Later that night, Minneapolis Public Schools canceled classes for Jan. 8 and Jan. 9, citing safety concerns.

The city remains on edge. ICE maintains a heavy presence in the metro area, and Good’s killing has sparked intense local debate over law enforcement accountability, as city and state officials push for a transparent investigation while federal agencies retain control of the case and block access to evidence.

It feels like an open wound that won’t heal, with innocent people caught in systems that escalate instead of protect.

Still, many are on the right side of justice, working to build a future that works for everyone. I saw it firsthand in November, on a Saturday at the Center for Changing Lives in Minneapolis.

Sixteen youth, ages 12 to 17, walked into a room carrying the weight of the world. They were there for a bilingual, trauma-informed training program led by Princess Titus and Standard Edition Women, in partnership with Hue-Man Partnership, Innovative Soulutions, and other community organizations. By the end of the day, they walked out lighter, more grounded, and more prepared.

The gathering was called TRAP: Trained to Respond, Aware, and Prepared. The name is no accident.
The traps are real. Money pressures, guns, drugs, violence, isolation. They surround us, embedded in systems older than the youth navigating them. TRAP doesn’t blame them. It tells them, clearly and with compassion, that they matter, that their lives matter, and that they deserve the tools to survive and thrive.

Youth are growing up too fast, facing violence and trauma, while too few adults stand with them and say, “We’ve got you.”

TRAP is one way of providing that guidance and rebuilding our village.

TRAP teaches youth how to respond to an opioid overdose, stop life-threatening bleeding, and help a friend thinking about suicide. These are not theoretical skills. They can mean the difference between a funeral and a future.

But just as important as the technical skills was the spirit of the day. The training didn’t start with lectures, but with honest check-ins. Youth were invited to release what they carried and show up as themselves. To listen, share, and ask questions without judgment.

That matters. Before young people can be prepared to respond to emergencies, they need to feel seen and heard. Preparation doesn’t start with equipment. It starts with trust.

The growth was tangible. Youth realized they could act, not freeze, when something went wrong.

What struck me most was the collective care that formed. English and Spanish flowed. Youth paired up, shared observations, and talked about what they see in their neighborhoods and schools. They shared fear and hope for something better. For themselves and their communities.

This is what building a village looks like in real time.

Preparation grows through small, consistent actions. Showing up, speaking up, learning, helping, practicing discipline when no one’s watching.

These daily choices build confidence, muscle memory, and purpose.

We tell youth to stay out of trouble, then don’t teach them how to navigate the traps. We tell them to be leaders, then don’t give them real opportunities to practice leadership. Programs like TRAP flip that script. You are capable now. You are not just the future. You are the present.
This work is not just for teenagers.

Preparedness has no age limit. Whether you are 12 or 112, we all benefit from learning how to respond, stay aware, and care for one another. When adults support youth leadership, or learn alongside them, we send a powerful message. We are in this together.

That’s how villages grow. Knowledge spreads. Confidence increases. Care expands.

If we want safer streets, healthier schools, and stronger communities, we must invest not just in prevention, but in preparation. Prepared youth become prepared adults and build prepared communities. Prepared communities save lives.

When authority escalates and protection fails, preparation becomes care.

As local leaders and community members press for transparency and accountability in the shooting of Renee Good, this tragedy has underscored not just pain but a broader struggle over how people are protected and heard.

Minneapolis is facing another moment of violence, grief, and trauma. We must move forward with love that acts, protects, and holds systems accountable.

TRAP is love in action. And right now, love must keep showing up.