Over the last year, at least two people have been murdered within one block of the square, and dozens more have been raped, robbed, or assaulted.
Minneapolis – Some mornings, Ivy Alexander will get in her car and just drive through the East 38th Street and Chicago Avenue intersection. Not because she needs to, but to make sure she can.
For most of the last year, activists have closed this South Minneapolis intersection to traffic, blocking the roads with concrete barriers and junk, and declaring it an autonomous zone, “The Free State of George Floyd.” In the wake of Floyd’s death last year under police officer Derek Chauvin’s knee, activists have been holding this neighborhood hostage, declaring they won’t return the streets until state and city leaders meet their 24 wide-ranging demands.
The streets are partially open to traffic now. The city cleared the barriers in early June. But activists have re-erected some of them, and their demands are still painted on the road.
The whole ordeal has put Alexander in a tough spot. As a black woman, she supports the racial-justice movement that’s sprung up after Floyd’s death. But she and her husband also own the Smoke in the Pit restaurant located inside what is now known as George Floyd Square, and the rise in lawlessness over the last year has put their business in jeopardy.
Signs at the entrance to 38th and Chicago declare to visitors that they are entering a “sacred space.” The city of Minneapolis promotes George Floyd Square on its website as a “a sacred space for racial healing.” People from around the world have made a pilgrimage here. But it’s not clear many of the people who regularly gather at this intersection treat it as sacred at all.
Yes, there are makeshift memorials to Floyd, including murals and five large Black Power fist statues. But the roads, sidewalks and stop signs are covered in anti-police graffiti. The abandoned Speedway gas station at 38th and Chicago, taken over and redubbed “The People’s Way,” has become a local loitering spot. A nearby bus stop has been converted into makeshift clothing shop. “To be honest, it looks junky down there,” said Alexander.
And in a city where crime is on the rise generally, violence has been particularly pronounced in and around the “sacred” square. Over the last year, at least two people have been murdered within one block of 38th and Chicago, and dozens more have been raped, robbed, or assaulted.
Neighbors and business owners who spoke to National Review said that living and working in the area over the past 13 months has been “frustrating” and “mentally draining.” Some older residents said they fear for their lives and the lives of their family members.
“When you hear about that, who’s going to risk their lives to come down to get some good food?” asked Alexander, careful to note that, “it’s really good food.”
“It just sucks for us all around,” she said.
A Crime Explosion
South Minneapolis is a collection of diverse working-class neighborhoods, dotted with early-20th-century wood-frame and stucco homes, and small businesses, many black-owned.
On a recent morning, younger residents walked their dogs and rode bicycles along the tree-lined roads and sidewalks near 38th and Chicago. A woman relaxed on her front porch with her kids. Nearby, children’s scooters and a bicycle with tassels on the handlebars were left unattended in front yards. Signs in the road urged people to drive slowly.
It was a pleasant morning, the picture of Minnesota Nice, but in Minneapolis, as in big progressive cities across the country, crime is on the rise. After Floyd’s murder, members of the Bloods gang became more active and violent in and around George Floyd Square, neighbors said. Random gunfire, shootings, and open-air robberies became common in the area.
“There’s always a small degree of tension. It’s just there. It’s always there,” said Vance Gellert, a local photographer and artist who has two bullet holes in his windows, the price of living a block from the sacred square.
To better understand what’s been happening in the neighborhood, National Review requested a list of every crime reported within one block of 38th and Chicago since January 1, 2016. The boundaries are East 37th Street to the north, East 39th Street to the south, Elliot Avenue to the east, and Columbus Street to the west.
According to data provided by the city of Minneapolis, that area one block from George Floyd Square averaged 35 reported crimes per year between 2016 and 2019. But in barely over a year since Floyd’s killing on May 25, 2020, there have been more than 100 reported crimes there, including at least two murders, two rapes, 30 assaults with dangerous weapons, and 21 robberies, according to the crime date provided by the city.
Earlier this spring, protestors threatened a TV news crew, telling them they would be in a “bad situation” if they didn’t leave. There was a shootout on the anniversary of Floyd’s death.
In March, 30-year-old Imaz Wright was gunned down near 38th and Chicago after a dispute. Because the road was shut down, community members had to bring him to the barricades so an ambulance crew could transport him to a local hospital, where he died.
Last July, after an argument at 37th Street and Elliot, Zachary Robinson, 27, shot and killed Laneesha Columbus, 27, who was pregnant with his child. A block from the massive monuments to Floyd, there is a much smaller memorial to Columbus – maybe three-feet by two-feet – where mourners have left candles and bottles of Jose Cuervo tequila and Corona beer. Across the street on a recent morning, someone left a couple of used Magnum condoms in the grass.
Threats of Murder and Rape
Jerome Alholm, 76, lives near where Columbus was killed in July. He and his wife bought their home 46 years ago, because they wanted to raise their daughters in a diverse community.
Over the decades, the neighborhood has gone through some ups and downs, he said, but overall it’s been mostly safe and stable. Now he and his wife are afraid for their lives.
His neighbor died several months back when, after suffering a medical emergency, an ambulance couldn’t promptly get through the blockade to rescue him. One night, there were dozens of gunshots fired in the alley behind their house. And, he said, on another day three “youths” threatened to kill him, rape his wife, and burn down their house.
“We’ve never had that level of enmity and anger expressed just because of our skin color,” said Alholm, who is white. “I don’t think they would have told a black woman that they were going to rape her, kill her husband, and burn her house down.”
Alholm said his grandfather was a Wobbly, a member of the Industrial Workers of the World, a union based on Marxist principles and committed to fighting capitalism. He believes he is part of a “multigenerational commitment to make the world better,” he said. But his progressive bona fides haven’t spared him from the rising crime in this overtly progressive neighborhood, where residents have signs in their yards opposing the Enbridge Line 3 oil pipeline and expressing support for the Black Lives Matter movement and their “neighbors in tents.”
Alholm would move if he could, he said, but after 46 years, he’s gathered a lot of stuff, and his house needs repairs. He lives off Social Security and a small pension, and he’s not certain he could afford the costs associated with selling his house and moving to another.
“When we chose this neighborhood, I think my two daughters turned out better because we lived here rather than moving to the suburbs,” Alholm said. “But my younger daughter lives just a block from us now, and my grandchild lives in this neighborhood, and I do not feel my granddaughter is safe here.”
Alholm is not alone in his fears. A 51-year-old African American woman who lives near 37th Street and Elliot told Minnesota Monthly magazine that she often hears gunshots at night, and gets out of bed and on the floor for safety. She said she bathes in the dark because she’s afraid.
“I was never afraid of my neighborhood until last summer,” she told the magazine.
Minneapolis City Council member Alondra Cano told Minnesota Monthly that she gets emails and text messages from residents saying, “I’m dodging bullets on my front lawn. What are you doing about this?”
A Mentally Draining Year
Not everyone is living with the same kind of fear, though most of the neighbors who spoke with National Review said the rising crime is at least concerning. Younger residents in particular seem more at ease with the increased lawlessness.
Carl Hill, who lives on Elliot Avenue, said it’s a good neighborhood, and he doesn’t regret moving there a few years ago.
“I’m largely supportive of the demonstration at the intersection, although there are a lot of complicated voices, business owners and people that live very, very close to that intersection,” Hill said when reached on the phone. “There have been increases in gunfire in the area, that sort of thing. I personally haven’t experienced anything with myself or my property, haven’t really felt threatened.”
One man, who was mugged by three teens with guns over his lunch break in October near George Floyd Square, said living in the area has been “mentally draining.”
“It seemed like the neighborhood was kind of on the rise,” said the man, who asked not to be named for this story. “After the riots that sort of all shut down.”
Still, he said, the unrest has helped bring neighbors together, and he’s optimistic for the future.
“You get to know your neighbors a lot better when you start having discussions as a community about things that affect it. What do you do with the square? How do you keep everybody safe?” the man said, adding, “It has gotten better” in the months since Chauvin’s conviction.
John Elder, a Minneapolis Police Department spokesman, said officers continue to patrol all neighborhoods in the city, including in and around George Floyd square. While he would not discuss specific strategies to combat rising crime in the neighborhood, he did say officers have “continually met with and had conversations with concerned neighbors and businesses.”
An 86-year-old African-American woman who has lived on Columbus Avenue for more than 50 years told National Review she still feels safe in the area, despite the increased crime and shootings. The woman, who asked not to be named, said she doesn’t go to the George Floyd Square intersection at all and doesn’t interact much with her neighbors.
She said she supports young people using their voices to advocate for change, but she’s against unnecessary violence, whether by the police or the public. She relies on her faith to protect her.
“I believe in God. And I believe that he is protective guidance over me, and that makes a difference to me because I have peace within myself, and peace is a good thing to have,” she said. “I don’t allow the spirit of fear to enter into me. And I’m a fighter and I’m a warrior.”
‘I Would Like to Be Proud’
Gellert, the local photographer, refuses to cave to fear. At 76, he’s too old to be afraid, he said. He’s gotten used to growling at the gang bangers when he walks to Cup Foods for an onion.
“I never feel uncomfortable over there, because this is my place. And I live here. And this is my community. It’s my street,” Gellert said. “But I’ve gone over with people, and we’re made to feel uncomfortable to be there because we’re white.”
Like other neighbors here, Gellert is supportive of the movement to combat racism and reform policing in Minneapolis. But, he said, he realizes that “it’s a long road.”
Still, he said, he sees a great opportunity to create something lasting and positive for the neighborhood. While some people are pushing to turn George Floyd Square into a park, Gellert said the nearby “Say Their Name” cemetery – a field filled with wooden headstones with the names of victims of police violence – already serves that purpose. Gellert is an advocate for building a racial justice center in Floyd’s name at the site of the abandoned Speedway.
“There’s such an opportunity,” Gellert said. “There’s so much money waiting for something reasonable to happen, and it isn’t the junk in the streets and fists.”
The city has been polling residents about a couple of design options for the intersection, but they mostly deal with how to move traffic around the main fist statue. Some activists have threatened city leaders for even considering any changes to the intersection.
Gellert said he’s been frustrated by the confrontational approach of some of the activists. He said it’s a small number of people who’ve decided to blockade the roads and make demands, and many don’t even live in the neighborhood.
“Five fists do not do it. They do not open up dialogue. They sort of cut it off. So, I don’t appreciate that approach,” Gellert said.
Alexander, the Smoke in the Pit owner, said it’s easy for people with nothing else to do and nothing much to lose to shut down traffic and craft demands. But, she said, “if you hold that block down for too long it could cost me my whole business.”
She wants her customers to be able to come in, and to feel safe doing so. The intersection should be a lasting monument to Floyd and the racial-justice movement, she said, and if it was done right it could be a boon to her business and to the neighborhood generally. But the gang shootouts and the junk in the streets and the loitering and the graffiti need to stop.
“Everybody in the world knows what happened with George Floyd Square and what happened to George Floyd,” Alexander said. “So, when people come I would like to be proud, as a business owner, to be a part of that square. But right now I’m not that proud.”