Asking Minnesotans if Somalis Have “Taken Over”: A Question That Reveals Deeper Divides

On a busy afternoon in downtown Minneapolis, a simple but provocative question was posed to passersby: Have Somalis taken over Minnesota? The responses were as varied as the people themselves, revealing not only opinions about immigration and demographic change, but also deeper anxieties about identity, belonging, and political rhetoric.

Some Minnesotans reacted immediately with frustration. “Taken over? No,” said a lifelong resident of South Minneapolis. “That language is misleading. Somali families are part of our neighborhoods, our schools, and our workforce. They didn’t ‘take’ anything—they built lives here.” Others echoed this sentiment, pointing out that Minnesota has a long history of welcoming immigrant communities, from Scandinavians and Germans to Hmong, Latino, and East African populations.

Yet not everyone dismissed the question so easily. A few respondents said they felt their communities had changed rapidly. “There are areas where you hear Somali more than English,” one suburban resident noted. “That can feel overwhelming if you’re not used to it.” However, even among those expressing discomfort, many clarified that their concerns were about pace of change and integration—not hostility toward Somali people themselves.

Minnesota is home to the largest Somali population in the United States, with tens of thousands of Somali Americans living primarily in the Twin Cities. Their presence is visible in small businesses, mosques, cultural centers, and increasingly in politics and media. For supporters, this visibility represents successful integration and civic participation. For critics, it can be misinterpreted as dominance or “takeover,” a term often fueled by social media narratives rather than lived experience.

Several Somali Minnesotans interviewed described the question as painful but familiar. “We hear this all the time,” said a second-generation Somali American college student. “My parents came here as refugees. They worked hard, paid taxes, and raised kids who are now teachers, nurses, and public servants. That’s not taking over—that’s contributing.”

Community leaders argue that framing demographic change as a threat obscures the real challenges Minnesota faces, including housing shortages, education gaps, and economic inequality. “Blaming one group distracts from solutions,” said a local nonprofit organizer. “We should be asking how communities can thrive together.”

Experts also warn that phrases like “taken over” can escalate tensions. Such language, they say, simplifies complex social changes into an “us versus them” narrative. While it may generate clicks or spark heated conversations, it rarely leads to understanding.

As the interviews continued, one pattern became clear: those with personal relationships with Somali neighbors, coworkers, or classmates were far less likely to see the community as a threat. Exposure bred familiarity, and familiarity reduced fear.

In the end, the question itself may say more than the answers. Asking whether Somalis have “taken over” Minnesota reflects uncertainty about change in a state that is evolving culturally and demographically. Whether that change is seen as a loss or a strength depends largely on perspective—and on whether Minnesotans choose curiosity and dialogue over suspicion.

What Minnesota looks like in the future may not be defined by who “takes over,” but by how well its diverse communities learn to live, work, and grow together.