Inside “Little Mogadishu”: Minnesota’s Somali Community Under Pressure From Fraud Scandals and Trump’s Attacks.
MINNEAPOLIS — The nation’s largest Somali community is once again at the center of a fierce political storm. In Cedar–Riverside, the Minneapolis neighborhood long known as “Little Mogadishu,” residents find themselves navigating a double assault: a sweeping federal fraud scandal that has damaged public trust, and an escalating barrage of inflammatory rhetoric from President Donald Trump and his allies.
Trump’s latest comments — accusing Somalis of “ripping off the state for billions” and declaring “we don’t want them in our country” — were the bluntest yet.
They landed hard in a community already reeling from the fallout of the Feeding Our Future scandal, the largest pandemic-era fraud case in U.S. history, in which a number of Somali Minnesotans were charged or convicted.
Trump and members of his administration have also revived unproven allegations of widespread immigration fraud, including long-discredited claims about Rep. Ilhan Omar.
For many Somali Minnesotans, the political climate now feels like a return to the darkest years after 9/11, when suspicion overshadowed daily life.
A Community on the Defensive
Residents interviewed by Fox News Digital expressed frustration that the actions of a small group have branded an entire community as criminal.
They argue the portrayal erases the lived reality of tens of thousands of Somali Minnesotans who work in factories, trucking, nursing, tech, and small business — and who have spent decades building a stable community in the upper Midwest.
But the scrutiny is unavoidable. The fraud cases, combined with longstanding concerns over gang activity and the small number of Minnesotan youth who once joined al-Shabaab, have created a narrative that is difficult to escape.
A Neighborhood Transformed
In Cedar–Riverside, the demographic shift is unmistakable. Once a bohemian student-and-nightlife corridor, it now carries the visual and cultural imprint of a Somali-majority district: mosques replacing bars, Arabic and Somali signage replacing English storefronts, and the fading modernist towers of Riverside Plaza looming over a neighborhood struggling under poverty rates triple the state average.
During Fox News Digital’s visit, streets were quiet and storefronts shuttered. Men gathered outside mosques for prayer; volunteers in reflective vests assisted people suffering from addiction-related medical crises. Political posters for Somali-American candidates blanketed corners.
The cultural vibrancy remained, but the economic struggle was visible.
Between Aspiration and Hardship
Despite the negative headlines, the community is not monolithic. Younger Somalis spoke openly about wanting to blend into American culture, code-switch between identities, or enter creative fields. Others highlighted the intense pressures of being part of multiple minority categories at once — Black, Muslim, immigrant, refugee — in a society where each marker carries its own challenges.
At Karmel Mall, the bustling heart of the Somali diaspora, barbers, hair stylists, shop owners, and tech workers described a different narrative: resilience, ambition, and a community determined to prove its place in America.
Many emphasized that their stories — educational success, entrepreneurship, civic engagement — rarely make national news.
Yet poverty remains entrenched. Median household incomes hover around $43,600, and more than a third of Somali Minnesotans live below the poverty line. Leaders like CAIR–Minnesota’s Jaylani Hussein argue that these struggles are symptoms of a young, still-developing immigrant community — not evidence of cultural failure.
The Shadow of Politics
What troubles Somali leaders most is not the fraud scandal itself but the political reaction to it. Trump’s remarks have revived fears of mass suspicion, surveillance, and scapegoating.
Community elders worry that decades of effort to integrate into Minnesota’s social fabric could be undone overnight by rhetoric that conflates individuals’ crimes with collective identity.
Somali residents say they cannot escape the reality that the community is now part of America’s political battleground — a symbol used by both parties, though often without nuance.
“Minnesota has had thirty years with the Somali community,” Hussein said. “Ninety-five percent of it has been positive. Our children were born here — they are Minnesotans now.”
But the fight over “Little Mogadishu’s” place in Minnesota — and in American identity — is far from over.
