In The News
We’ve watched as they've lightened and retouched images of celebrities of color, from Beyoncé to
As I sat in my Capitol Hill office two weeks ago, watching a violent mob storm the symbol and seat of our democracy, I was reminded of my distant past. As a child, I saw my birth country of Somalia descend from relative stability into civil war, overnight. The spaces where people felt most secure—their homes and workplaces—suddenly became battlegrounds, torn by gunfights and bombings.
This month, we begin the transition away from a Trump era and toward a new presidency based on peace and cooperation. There is no area where this renewed vision is needed more than foreign policy.
When I first came to this country as a refugee at the age of 12, I was horrified by the number of people I saw experiencing homelessness on the streets of New York City. I remember turning to my father one day as we drove through the city and saying, “This is not the America you told us about.” “Hush child,” my father replied.
This past week, I met with community members and state lawmakers to push for more change in the wake of George Floyd’s killing in Minneapolis. Floyd was killed in my Minnesota district — and his death was the catalyst for conversations around police brutality and structural racism that have begun to transform the nation.
Our city, and our nation, are at a crossroads.
Rep. Ilhan Omar has spent much of the last two weeks in Minneapolis, in her district, where a little more than two weeks ago, a police officer killed George Floyd as three other officers stood by and assisted.
We are facing a challenge unlike any our country has ever faced. The coronavirus shock could claim thousands of Minnesota jobs, not to mention those directly affected by the illness and the health care workers putting their lives on the line to attend to their needs. It is deferring dreams, robbing Americans of their savings, and putting at risk millions of families’ ability to make ends meet.
The day before Thanksgiving, families across the country gathered around their dining tables to give thanks and break bread. But many families in the Twin Cities were not sitting down for a holiday dinner — instead they were facing indescribable tragedy. On Wednesday, Nov.
I first arrived in this country in 1995, traveling from a refugee camp in Kenya. Having lived for four years without running water or permanent housing, I dreamed of finding stability and opportunity in the United States of America.