Economy for Everyone
I Didn't Know the Term Mutual Aid Until I Needed It
field-notes | 2026-01-29 | facebook
Mutual aid isn't new. My awareness of it was. Learning from people who have carried this work for generations.
One small action: Offer one concrete support action: a ride, meal, check-in, or paperwork help.
I’m going to admit something that’s uncomfortable, but true:
I didn’t even know the term mutual aid until I needed it.
And that’s part of the point.
I live in my own reality bubble, not about politics, but about need. I’ve had the privilege to assume the system will handle it, or that somebody else will.
A lot of my neighbors have never had that luxury.
Mutual aid isn’t new. My ignorance is.
It’s because I’ve lived a life where I could keep my head down and still be okay.
Until I couldn’t.
What snapped my attention
What snapped me awake was watching how fast people in my kid’s orbit moved after an ICE raid.
Not panic. Not chaos.
Coordination.
Parents and community folks immediately organizing practical help. Checking on families. Sharing resources. Calmly showing up for one another.
Everyone seemed to know what mutual aid is, what it is, what it isn’t, and they had patience for newbies like me.
That patience matters. Because a lot of people want to help and also don’t want to screw it up.
The other thing I’ve been slow to face
Then I read a post from a friend that hit me right between the eyes:
Minnesota has this nice self-image, but it also has some brutal gaps by race. It can be a great place to live if you’re white, and a much harder place if you’re not.
That’s the part I’ve been slow to fully face. And it explains a lot.
Because mutual aid didn’t appear out of nowhere in 2026.
Communities, especially Black communities, have built ways of taking care of each other for generations, often because the system wouldn’t.
Sometimes community support isn’t a feel-good hobby.
Sometimes it’s how you survive.
What I keep seeing right now
Here’s what I keep seeing in Minnesota right now:
The response that makes intimidation harder to sustain isn’t one big organization with a boss and a budget.
It’s a web.
Spread out. Built with backups. Local. Boring in the best way.
People doing rides, food, childcare, check-ins, donations, and help with lawyers, court dates, and paperwork, the unglamorous stuff that keeps families from falling through the cracks.
It’s not flashy.
It’s resilient.
And it changes the math for anyone trying to isolate people through fear.
A shift in what resistance means (for me)
I used to think resistance meant speeches and leaders.
Now I’m realizing a lot of it is this:
Neighbors quietly making sure nobody gets left alone in fear.
Not everyone has the energy for rallies. Not everyone can risk arrest. Not everyone has time for meetings.
But a lot of people can do something steady:
- a ride
- a meal
- a childcare swap
- a check-in text
- a donation
- a form filled out correctly
- showing up as a witness so someone isn’t alone
That’s not lesser-than.
That’s the infrastructure of dignity.
What I’m trying to do next
This is what I’m trying to do with my eyes open:
- learn from the people who’ve been doing this a long time
- contribute without needing to be the main character
- stay steady enough to be useful
It’s working better for me than outrage.
Outrage burns hot and fast.
Mutual aid is quieter.
And it lasts.