In Minneapolis, the federal crackdown on immigrants has taken a devastating toll on families. The city is witnessing a groundswell of community support as mothers like Bri step in to help those left behind by ICE's relentless pursuit.
When 16-year-old daughter was separated from her mother after immigration agents stopped their car, she was left alone with her three-month-old baby - who hadn't eaten for a day and a half. The teenager tried to feed the infant formula, but it didn't work. With no choice but to seek help, they called Bri.
Bri, a 35-year-old mother of two, has been running an expansive network in Minneapolis, donating groceries, diapers, and wipes to immigrant families hiding from ICE. She is an overproducer, often pumping up to 45 ounces of breastmilk per morning, which she then donates to those in need.
The call came on January 17th, and just an hour later, Bri was at the family's doorstep with a cooler full of milk and a care package that included instructions on how to safely thaw the milk. The baby drank the whole bottle and fell asleep, while Bri wept tears of joy - but also anger.
"I felt very angry - very, very, angry," she said. "There are moms that are literally being torn apart from their kids." This sentiment is echoed by many families who rely on Bri's network for support.
For almost two months now, Bri has spent her days and nights coordinating donations, picking up supplies until 10 pm, and trying to match families with the resources they need. She has received over 500 grocery deliveries and more than 300 diaper donations.
Bri's message is clear: "Shame on those who steal, not those who ask for help." Her network has helped countless families, including some whose parents are in detention, awaiting a bond hearing.
The work is all-consuming and difficult. Bri often drives through tears, worried about her own safety if she encounters an ICE agent. But she continues to do what many consider unthinkable - putting the needs of others before their own.
"I am doing this," she said, "because I would hope, God forbid, anything happens to me, that my community steps up to help my kids." And step up they are, in ways both big and small, as the city comes together to support those most vulnerable.
When 16-year-old daughter was separated from her mother after immigration agents stopped their car, she was left alone with her three-month-old baby - who hadn't eaten for a day and a half. The teenager tried to feed the infant formula, but it didn't work. With no choice but to seek help, they called Bri.
Bri, a 35-year-old mother of two, has been running an expansive network in Minneapolis, donating groceries, diapers, and wipes to immigrant families hiding from ICE. She is an overproducer, often pumping up to 45 ounces of breastmilk per morning, which she then donates to those in need.
The call came on January 17th, and just an hour later, Bri was at the family's doorstep with a cooler full of milk and a care package that included instructions on how to safely thaw the milk. The baby drank the whole bottle and fell asleep, while Bri wept tears of joy - but also anger.
"I felt very angry - very, very, angry," she said. "There are moms that are literally being torn apart from their kids." This sentiment is echoed by many families who rely on Bri's network for support.
For almost two months now, Bri has spent her days and nights coordinating donations, picking up supplies until 10 pm, and trying to match families with the resources they need. She has received over 500 grocery deliveries and more than 300 diaper donations.
Bri's message is clear: "Shame on those who steal, not those who ask for help." Her network has helped countless families, including some whose parents are in detention, awaiting a bond hearing.
The work is all-consuming and difficult. Bri often drives through tears, worried about her own safety if she encounters an ICE agent. But she continues to do what many consider unthinkable - putting the needs of others before their own.
"I am doing this," she said, "because I would hope, God forbid, anything happens to me, that my community steps up to help my kids." And step up they are, in ways both big and small, as the city comes together to support those most vulnerable.