Minneapolis’ Somali Community Has Become a Crucial Base of Support for Mayor Jacob Frey.

When Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey walked into a packed East African event hall on election night and delivered part of his victory speech in Somali, it was not a last-minute attempt to broaden his appeal.

It was the culmination of a relationship that has shaped his political life for more than a decade — and one that helped him defeat his top challenger, state Sen. Omar Fateh, the first Somali American elected to the Minnesota Legislature.

While neither campaign can quantify the exact vote breakdown among Somali American residents, both acknowledge that Frey secured a meaningful share of the community’s support, despite Fateh’s deep roots within it.

The dynamic underscored a campaign season in which two well-known figures — one a member of Minnesota’s growing Somali political class, the other a longtime ally of East African Minnesotans — competed for the backing of one of the city’s most influential voting blocs.

Frey’s ties to Somali communities stretch back to his childhood in northern Virginia, where he grew up in neighborhoods with large East African populations. As a young runner, he once spotted world-champion Somali miler Abdi Bile on a jogging trail and ran beside him in awe.

Years later, after Frey moved to Minneapolis and entered local politics, Bile reconnected with him — a reunion that evolved into friendship.

By then, Frey had already developed a strong presence in Minneapolis’ Somali neighborhoods, long before he ever sought public office. Friends recall him frequenting cafés, attending soccer matches, and picking up conversational Somali phrases.

Several residents still call him Yurub Farid, an affectionate nickname that blends the Arabic and Somali versions of his name.

Those connections persisted once he became mayor. Frey routinely appeared at Somali festivals, declared a Somali Culture Day, and worked with community leaders on issues ranging from public safety to housing.

His support for an ordinance allowing mosques to broadcast the Islamic call to prayer at any hour won him praise from local imams and elders.

As the 2024 mayoral race intensified, both campaigns saw the Somali vote as indispensable. Fateh, who grew up near Frey in Virginia, leaned on his political résumé and identity as the son of Somali immigrants.

Frey countered with organization: a dedicated East African campaign team, satellite offices in Cedar-Riverside, and endorsements from prominent Somali American leaders who argued that public safety, housing affordability, and representation mattered more than clan or ethnic ties.

“It showed the community we are not a monolithic group,” said Mohamed Omar, the former chair of the Hennepin Healthcare board. “We were willing to judge both candidates on their plans, not their background.”

Frey’s campaign also benefited from waves of social-media support, including posts from Somali hip-hop star Ilkacase Qays, who urged followers to back the mayor in the race’s final days.

After the election, some online commentators framed the outcome as a reflection of divisions between Somali clans.

Community leaders in Minneapolis rejected that interpretation, attributing it instead to spirited political debate — and to narratives pushed by influencers abroad. “People had strong opinions, but the discussions were mostly civil,” said Cedar-Riverside activist Abdirizak Bihi.

Others cautioned that Frey must remain sensitive to how community outreach intersects with clan identity. Ward 6 Council Member Jamal Osman said that while he does not believe the mayor tried to exploit internal divisions, he should take care to avoid doing so inadvertently.

In his final remarks to Somali American supporters on election night, Frey acknowledged the emotional toll of the campaign and struck a conciliatory note.

“This election is a moment for unity,” he told the crowd. “A moment where the Somali community can come together and say: This is our people. This is our city. We stand together.”

Sudan’s RSF Announces Three-Month Ceasefire as Pressure Mounts from Trump and Quad Nations.

Sudan’s Rapid Support Forces said late Monday that it would enter an immediate three-month humanitarian ceasefire, marking the paramilitary group’s most significant public concession since the conflict with Sudan’s army erupted nearly two years ago.

The declaration comes days after President Donald Trump signaled he would intervene to push for an end to a war that has pushed Sudan to the brink of famine.

The United States, the United Arab Emirates, Egypt and Saudi Arabia — the diplomatic grouping known as the Quad — earlier this month proposed a three-month truce followed by negotiations.

The RSF initially indicated support for the plan but then launched drone strikes on army positions, underscoring the volatility of the battlefield and doubts about whether any ceasefire could hold.

General Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, the RSF commander, framed Monday’s announcement as a gesture toward international pressure. “In response to international efforts, chiefly that of His Excellency US President Donald Trump … I announce a humanitarian ceasefire including a cessation of hostilities for three months,” he said, urging Quad nations to pressure the Sudanese Armed Forces to reciprocate.

The announcement immediately deepened tensions with Sudan’s military leadership. On Sunday, army chief Gen. Abdel Fattah al-Burhan rejected the Quad proposal outright, accusing the initiative of weakening the army while allowing the RSF to consolidate territory seized during the war.

He dismissed the RSF as “rebels” who could not be part of any future political settlement.

The ceasefire call comes as the RSF faces growing international scrutiny over its conduct following its capture of al-Fashir in late October.

Rights groups and U.S. officials have accused RSF fighters of committing atrocities across Darfur and expanding attacks in Kordofan as they attempt to seize control of the country’s center.

Both Dagalo and Burhan are under U.S. sanctions, and Washington has accused the warring parties of exacerbating a humanitarian crisis that has killed tens of thousands of civilians since April 2023.

The war began over disagreements on integrating the RSF into the national military but quickly spiraled into one of the world’s most destructive conflicts, displacing millions and creating conditions the United Nations describes as “near famine.”

The UAE, which Burhan has accused of arming the RSF — a charge Abu Dhabi denies — said the army chief’s refusal to consider a ceasefire was undermining diplomatic efforts. “His repeated refusal to accept a ceasefire demonstrates consistently obstructive behavior,” Reem bint Ebrahim al-Hashimy, the UAE’s minister of state for international cooperation, said Monday.

At the same time, Massad Boulos, the White House adviser on African and Arab affairs, held talks in Abu Dhabi with the UAE’s foreign minister, signaling Washington’s intensifying focus on the conflict.

Whether the RSF’s unilateral announcement marks a genuine shift or a tactical pause remains unclear. Previous ceasefire declarations by both sides have collapsed within hours. But with famine looming and international pressure mounting, diplomats say even a fragile pause could prove critical in opening space for renewed talks — if Sudan’s military agrees to join.

U.S. Poised to Designate Muslim Brotherhood a Foreign Terrorist Organization, Trump Says. 

The United States is preparing to formally label the Muslim Brotherhood a foreign terrorist organization, President Donald Trump told the news outlet Just the News, in a move that would align Washington with a growing list of countries that have outlawed the region’s most influential Islamist movement.

“It will be done in the strongest and most powerful terms,” Trump said, adding that the “final documents are being drawn.”

If enacted, the decision would place the Brotherhood—founded nearly a century ago as a grassroots Islamic revival movement—among groups subject to some of the U.S. government’s most sweeping sanctions.

The announcement follows Jordan’s decision earlier this year to outlaw the organization and seize its assets after security agencies said they thwarted a sabotage plot linked to the group.

The Brotherhood, founded in 1928 by Egyptian scholar Hassan al-Banna, grew into a vast religiopolitical movement spanning Egypt, Sudan, Syria, Palestine, Lebanon and parts of North Africa.

By the late 1940s, the group claimed hundreds of thousands of members and ran an extensive network of schools, clinics and charities.

Its evolution from religious outreach to political activism—and, at times, armed resistance—has long divided opinion across the Middle East.

Critics point to the Brotherhood’s armed wing in the 1940s, which was linked to political assassinations and bombings. Supporters say the organization renounced violence decades ago and now promotes its Islamist vision through elections and social engagement.

Today, the group is banned in multiple countries, including Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Russia, Syria, and the United Arab Emirates. Jordan became the latest to outlaw the movement, prohibiting its publications, political advocacy and organizational activity.

The Brotherhood’s current Supreme Guide, Mohamed Badie, is serving multiple life sentences and a death sentence in Egypt on charges related to alleged plots to incite unrest after the 2013 military ouster of President Mohamed Morsi, a Brotherhood figure who briefly became Egypt’s first democratically elected leader.

In parts of the region, Brotherhood-inspired political parties remain active.

Jordan’s Islamic Action Front—formerly aligned with the movement—continues to hold seats in parliament. Tunisia’s Ennahda, also influenced by Brotherhood ideology, emerged as a dominant political force after the 2011 Arab Spring before losing power amid political turmoil.

A U.S. terrorist designation would mark a major shift in Washington’s approach, raising complex questions about enforcement, diplomatic implications, and how broadly the label would be applied.

The Brotherhood operates through decentralized structures across multiple countries, with factions that differ widely in strategy, ideology and engagement in politics.

The administration has not provided a timeline for the decision, and officials in the region have yet to respond publicly. But the move is likely to be welcomed by governments that have long urged Washington to take a harder stance on the movement—and strongly opposed by others who view the Brotherhood as a legitimate political actor.

President Donald Trump’s pledge to “immediately” end temporary legal protections for Somali immigrants living in Minnesota has stirred anxiety across the state’s large Somali community and raised significant doubts about whether the administration has the authority to enact such a directive.

In a late-night post on Truth Social, Trump vowed to revoke Temporary Protected Status—known as TPS—for Somali nationals, a program that shields immigrants from deportation to countries experiencing conflict or disaster.

The announcement prompted sharp pushback from Minnesota officials, legal experts, and community advocates, who warned that the threat appeared more political than legally grounded.

“There’s no legal mechanism that allows the president to terminate protected status for a particular community or state that he has beef with,” said Heidi Altman, policy director at the National Immigrant Justice Center. “This is Trump doing what he always does: demagoguing immigrants without justification or evidence.”

Even if the administration attempts to end TPS for Somalia nationwide—a decision it must finalize by mid-January—the change would affect only a small number of people.

A congressional report released in August found that just 705 Somalis across the United States are currently protected under the program.

Minnesota, home to tens of thousands of Somali Americans, is overwhelmingly composed of naturalized citizens, U.S.-born children, permanent residents, and visa holders.

“I am a citizen and so are the majority of Somalis in America,” Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-Minn.) wrote on social media. “Good luck celebrating a policy change that really doesn’t have much impact on the Somalis you love to hate.”

Still, local leaders warned that the president’s language could inflame hostility toward a community already experiencing rising Islamophobia. Jaylani Hussein, executive director of Minnesota’s chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations, called the announcement “a political attack on the Somali and Muslim community driven by Islamophobic rhetoric.”

Trump justified his position by alleging, without evidence, that Somali gangs operate criminal networks in the state and that Minnesota is a “hub of fraudulent money laundering activity.”

Federal prosecutors have recently brought charges in a large social-services fraud case that includes some Somali defendants, but state officials note that Minnesota consistently ranks among the safest states in the country.

“This is what he does to change the subject,” Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz (D) said.

Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison said his office is reviewing legal options. “Trump cannot terminate TPS for just one state or on a bigoted whim,” he said. “Somali folks came to Minnesota fleeing conflict, instability and famine, and they have become an integral part of our state.”

TPS for Somalia has been renewed 27 times since 1991, when the country collapsed into civil war after the fall of longtime ruler Siad Barre. Decades of instability, including the rise of al-Shabab, have made Somalia one of the world’s most dangerous places, according to U.S. assessments.

Advocates argue that Trump’s declaration disregards both legal constraints and the contributions of the Somali diaspora, which has transformed neighborhoods, opened businesses, and grown into a significant political presence in Minnesota.

“Destabilizing families and communities makes all of us less safe, not more,” Altman said.

The pledge comes as part of Trump’s broader effort to reassert hard-line immigration policies, including proposals to roll back protections for Venezuelans, Haitians, Cubans, and Syrians—moves that critics say are motivated more by political theater than national security.