The front lawn of the Minnesota State Capitol pulsed with chants, banners, and unwavering resolve on April 5 as thousands assembled for the “HANDS OFF” rally — a powerful rebuke of rising police aggression, the tightening grip of surveillance, and the continued systemic neglect faced by Black, brown, and Indigenous communities.
The cold didn’t stop them. Neither did the threat of rain. And though the sky hung heavy and gray, the message rang bright and clear: Hands off our bodies. Hands off our families. Hands off our communities. Hands off our future.
More than a demonstration, the rally was a communal heartbeat — a convergence of resistance, memory and hope brought together by a coalition of grassroots justice organizations. Activists, artists, elders, students, and everyday Minnesotans stood shoulder to shoulder, united in their demand for a government that prioritizes people over profit, care over punishment, justice over silence.
“We’re not political people, we’re just people,” said Tonya M., a home care worker from Brooklyn Park, balancing her toddler on one hip and a handmade sign on the other. “But when the decisions made in D.C. make it harder for me to feed my child, I show up.”
From my chats with attendees, some of the concerns fueling attendance were: rent is sky-high, classrooms are policed while counselors are scarce, and neighborhoods are losing health clinics while luxury condos rise. There were common themes surrounding knowing what it means to be unseen, unheard and underestimated — and they came to change that narrative.
One of the few elected officials to address the crowd was Senator Erin Murphy, whose fiery speech cut through the wind with urgency and truth.
“Last November we elected someone who’s famous for firing people, bankrupting companies, and hoarding wealth,” she said, referencing national leadership. “And that’s what they’re doing to America. That’s their plan. To make tax cuts, trillions of tax cuts for the wealthiest among us.”
Murphy reminded the crowd that power doesn’t begin or end at the ballot box. History, she said, is shaped by the grit and grace of ordinary people.
“When I can’t sleep at night, I think about the ones who came before us — people who built the Underground Railroad, women who fought for suffrage,” she said. “Ordinary Americans stood up and fought and made change. And I want to make sure that my kids and my grandkids someday look back and say, ‘What did my mom do when we faced the challenge?’”
A recent graduate of St. Paul College, who asked to remain unnamed, echoed that sentiment — not in theory, but in raw truth. “My dad lost his job last month and he’s too proud to ask for help,” he shared. “We’re drowning. And now they’re talking about cutting unemployment? It’s not just politics. It’s survival. We pay taxes too.”
For Claudine Evernest, a 68-year-old retired nurse from Mankato, the fight is far from theoretical. Wrapped in a heavy blanket and sipping coffee, she said, “I should be enjoying retirement, not worrying about losing Medicare. But I don’t trust anyone else to speak for me anymore. So I came.”
The HANDS OFF rally was a call to action. Tables lined the lawn offering voter registration, mutual aid connections, and letter-writing campaigns to lawmakers. Chants like “Care, not cages!” and “Fund the people, not police!” rose between spoken word and soul-lifting song.
For Jerrica Tran, a longtime community volunteer, this moment felt like a spark that could build into a fire. “I’ve marched before,” she said, “but this time felt different. We’re exhausted, yes — but we’re not defeated.
“There’s a hunger here. A hunger for justice. For safety. For something radically better.”
As the sun dipped behind the Capitol dome, the crowd thinned but the commitment remained. Organizers made it clear: This was only the beginning. With looming budget talks and high-stakes elections ahead, the spirit of HANDS OFF will carry on — in town halls, on doorsteps, in classrooms, and across kitchen tables.
And in the heart of Black communities — where resistance has always lived — this fight carries a deeper legacy. From the first freedom seekers who dared to dream of liberation to the modern-day organizers building networks of mutual care, the battle remains persistent.
Some believe our futures are worth defending. Others believe our voices are powerful.
In unison, all believed that freedom is not given, it is claimed.
As Senator Murphy reminded the crowd, “I am ready to fight for the future that I know is possible for us — a multiracial democracy where we hold the power to set the course of our future. That is our right.”
