This story was originally published by The 19th and was republished with permission.
A newborn in Minneapolis hadn’t eaten for a day and a half.
Her mother had risked going into work to get just enough money for more diapers when Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents stopped her car and took her away. At home waiting for her were her 16-year-old daughter and the baby — just barely 3 months old.
With their mother gone, the teenager tried to feed the baby, who was exclusively breastfed, formula to no avail. So they called Bri.
For over a month and a half now, Bri, a mother of two in Minneapolis, has run an expansive donation network in the city, most of it to help other moms and families with children. Bri, who is breastfeeding her own infant, posted on her social media that in addition to groceries and diapers and wipes, she could also donate breastmilk to anyone who needed it.
Bri is an overproducer — in one morning, she might pump 45 ounces alone. When the call came on January 17, Bri had pumped about a thousand ounces of extra breastmilk, which was stored in her freezer. She knew it was likely a matter of time before she’d hear of a baby in need.
An hour and a half after she received the call, Bri was at the family’s doorstep with 350 ounces of milk in a cooler, along with a care package that included instructions on how to safely thaw the milk, a bottle warmer, bottles, and some extra clothes that no longer fit her then-6-month-old.
Inside, the baby was screaming.
They quickly put together a bottle and watched as the child’s body relaxed. The baby drank the whole bottle and fell asleep.
Bri wept.
Then the rage set in.
“I felt very angry — very, very, angry, and I couldn’t imagine what the 16-year-old was feeling because she felt broken. Her mom was her world … and now they’re separated,’” Bri said. “There are moms that are literally being torn apart from their kids.”
In Minneapolis, for every story detailing the fallout of the federal crackdown, there are as many stories of people like Bri. Neighbors are putting their trust in total strangers. Moms are helping children who are not their own, who they’ve never met.
For almost two months now, Bri has spent her mornings and afternoons, before and after work, picking up donations for immigrant families in hiding from ICE. Bri requested that The 19th only share her first name and omit the names of the children out of concern for her safety and that of the families she aids.
At night, after her baby is down to sleep and under the care of Bri’s 18-year-old daughter, she delivers supplies until about 10 p.m. What started as a couple donations has quickly swelled into a network, with donations flooding in every week.
Most of it is moms talking to one another and putting together packages, while Bri manages what comes in and posts about it on her social media, trying to match donations with families’ needs. Professionally, Bri’s job also involves connecting people with resources, so the community already knows to come to her.
Much of her focus in recent weeks has been putting together donations of diapers, wipes, and formula for mothers who are staying home to avoid ICE.
“The first line that a lot of these moms say when they call is, ‘I’ve never asked for help, and the only reason why I’m asking for help is because I love my kids,’” Bri said. In response she’ll tell them in Spanish: Vergüenza robar — no pedir. Or roughly, ”Shame on those who steal, not those who ask for help.”
So far, Bri and her network have helped more than 500 families with grocery deliveries and more than 300 with diapers and wipes.
“It fills my heart, and it brings me hope that it’s not all bad and that if this is going to go on longer, that we have the help. If one mom can’t do it, another one can do it, and we are acting in community,” Bri said. “When one mom hurts, we are all hurting.”
Breastmilk donations are also coming in. An additional six moms have reached out offering to donate, Bri said. She has to be careful about it, only taking their milk if the moms are currently donating to local hospitals and have a certificate proving they’ve been cleared to do it (Bri herself has been screened and has a certificate).
Hospitals and milk banks typically have a rigorous screening process that tests for microbes and screens donors for alcohol, drug, and medication use. They also pasteurize the milk to eliminate pathogens.
Because the families she’s helping don’t want to risk going to a hospital or milk bank, Bri tries to handle the milk and donations carefully to reduce the risks. The breastmilk is frozen and transported in an insulated cooler with ice packs, though “since it’s freezing here, I don’t worry about it thawing,” Bri said.
In the requests for aid she receives, Bri gets a window into the conditions other families are living in. They’ll ask for things like children’s medications because they’re too afraid to take their kids to hospitals. Some may ask for menstrual hygiene products, like pads and tampons. A mom asked for one box of diapers because she had been washing and reusing the diapers she had left. Bri brought her two.
As Minneapolis enters its third month of what ICE has called an immigration enforcement crackdown, the asks have shifted to help support long-term needs or people’s mental health. As part of a care package Bri put together for the teenage sister of the baby she helped, for example, she included colored pencils and a sketchbook.
With the help of community donations through a GoFundMe, Bri’s been able to cover four months of the girls’ rent while their mom remains in detention in Texas pending a bond hearing.
And the deliveries haven’t slowed down. Most nights still, Bri is on the freezing roads in Minneapolis with a trunk full of groceries or diapers. She did two deliveries after work recently while on the phone with a reporter.
The streets are empty these days, Bri said. A route that in the past might have taken her an hour now takes under 30 minutes. Our people are literally in hiding, she thinks.
The work is all-consuming and difficult. On breaks at work, she’s often checking if anyone is asking for deliveries or offering donations. There are days when she’s driving home through tears.
Bri is a single mom.
“What are you going to do if you bump into an ICE agent who is not having a good day and decides to profile you?” her parents ask her.
“You need to also think about your kids,” they tell her.
But Bri is thinking about her kids.
“I am doing this,” she told them, “because I would hope, God forbid, anything happens to me, that my community steps up to help my kids.”
Header Image by Jaye Haych on Unsplash
