Photographs by Jack Califano
The six-car ICE convoy came to a stop and instantly dozens of people swarmed it, cellphones in hand, while others ran out of nearby houses—I saw a woman in gym shorts in the 20-degree weather—and began surrounding the masked and heavily armed agents who had spilled out of their black SUVs.

Chances are, you’ve seen Richard Tsong-Taatarii’s photo. Taken Wednesday in Minneapolis, it shows an unidentifiable protester face down on the ground; two Border Patrol agents are on top of him, holding him there, while a third unloads pepper spray into his face from just inches away.
Tomorrow’s front page of the Minnesota Star Tribune: Jan. 23, 2026
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— Minnesota Star Tribune (@startribune.

On last night’s Saturday Night Live, we learned that time stops for nothing—not people and not language. Marcello Hernández, the cast member perhaps most likely to become SNL’s next breakout star, dropped by the “Weekend Update” desk to inform the Millennial co-anchor Colin Jost—and, by proxy, many Millennial audience members—of the slang terms favored by Gen Z. Hernández kicked off the segment by explaining the term chopped to “older folks” such as Jost.

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When Alex Pretti went out to protest ICE actions in Minneapolis on Saturday morning, he surely knew that Renee Good had been shot and killed about two weeks earlier.

We’ve stopped talking again
so the earth has no color.
Everywhere the chlorophyll has paused,
light burning over the day’s lessons
as hunger burns
the mouth I can’t make eat.
A little rice? A little soup?
I’d rather die
reading the early texts
you sent about my breasts.
I wouldn’t take a picture—
infidelity!—
and so instead had conjured them
with words,
for which, with words,
you gave me back a tongue
we dragged across the skin
of common thought.
Such is our lot,
our shared disease or gift.