Four things are striking when crossing the doors of Smitten Kitten, a historic sex shop in the Lyn-Lake neighborhood of Minneapolis. The first is the number of people coming in and out, more than 120 in just over an hour, on a chilly Thursday afternoon at the end of January. The second is that a good part of them, a constant stream of neighbors, arrive loaded with bags and money but leave empty-handed. The third is that alongside toys, books, and condoms, there are mountains of snacks, medications to revive from opioid overdoses, drinks, or gas masks. The fourth, the gut-wrenching one, is discovering that Anne, the exhausted 30-year-old sex educator who has become a phenomenon on social media during the protests against ICE, wears a bulletproof vest under her sweatshirt and now considers it inevitable.
Smitten Kitten is much more than a store. It was opened over 20 years ago by a couple from Alabama and has become a pillar of the community. "It's a safe place, a meeting point for neighbors and the neighborhood if you have health issues, legal problems, if you're transitioning, can't read a medical report, have survived a difficult marriage, an assault, cancer, or simply need help," explain Jenifer Pritchett (JP), the owner, and Anne Lehman, one of the managers.
The store has always had a strong, unique personality, but since the beginning of the year, it has also become an unexpected hub of the citizen response against the presence of immigration agents and in support of at-risk groups. "It's the heart of the resistance," says one of the customers proudly as she leaves.
The hustle and bustle are constant. In the summer, the economic situation was critical, and they went from eight to four employees, going two weeks without being able to pay their salaries. Since Covid, people buy more online; since the death of George Floyd, there are fewer pedestrians in the area. And due to Trump's tariffs, the pieces are more expensive. All adult toy motors, for example, come from China. They were on the verge of closing, but in the lowest moments, the community responded and helped keep them afloat. Cafes or restaurants in the neighborhood started offering discounts to those who presented a Smitten Kitten receipt. Some businesses even bought gift cards to give to their own customers. So now, they say at Smitten, it's their turn to pay it forward.
Since the turn of the year, they need more staff and have had to hire security, explains Anne, pointing to a man sitting at the door scrutinizing each person who arrives, and a second employee with a visible gun on the waist, above the clothing. "A few weeks ago, ICE put us on their radar. We had become a vital point of assistance for the most vulnerable, and that's precisely why they started coming, to try to detain the most exposed. Families stopped coming to get diapers, food, or medicine and started sending their children, who are U.S. citizens. We noticed that patrols were following volunteers and stopping them, and we weren't prepared for something like this. We had to ask for IDs at the door because very suspicious people started showing up trying to infiltrate," she adds. "Every day we receive many threats, and well, you never know," she says, fiddling with the vest plate. "The community has rallied, but we are not trained for all this."
The store and its members are experiencing a phase of enormous popularity and pressure, learning on the fly to assimilate it. They have raised tens of thousands of dollars for various associations, especially for Somali women and Hispanic families. They coordinate donations, manage cash, have involved restaurants and caterers, and help pay rents and fill fridges. And there are days when they dedicate 100% of their income to cover immigration lawyers' costs "for over 500 local families of Somali and East African origin at risk of deportation."
In a short time, they have gone from a local phenomenon to a global one. They are mentioned by influencers, Playboy magazine has dedicated a lengthy article to them, and even actors and singers are suddenly on their radar. "Excuse me, but I have to step away for a moment to send an email," says Anne during our visit. Upon returning, over half an hour later, she explains with some disbelief that she was talking to Tom Morello from Rage Against the Machine, who will be in the city over the weekend for a concert of "Solidarity and Resistance against fascism" and has heard about them. "I don't know how to digest talking to one of your idols," she says overwhelmed.
She and her colleagues are trying to navigate the situation. "It's very difficult to explain. That from something so horrible, such an incredible response has emerged, that from the worst of human nature, the best comes out. I have always been an artist, did performances, and in a way sought fame, I suppose. Now, more or less, it has arrived, but for the wrong reasons, and I carry a lot of guilt. All of this takes a toll on me; tomorrow I have to go to therapy," she says while explaining the neighborhood's aid mechanisms and the store's role.
JP, the owner, moves back and forth dealing with the stock of toys and lingerie and the stock of diapers, formula, and food in the back room. "When the detentions started, we understood that we couldn't act as if nothing was happening, preparing for Valentine's Day as if it were a normal year. And now it has become the main focus. Our message to our customers, friends, and neighbors was: 'if you have a few hundred dollars for a adult toy, you can probably allocate them to a more urgent cause.' I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but today we have to do what we have to do," they say while attending to journalists, hugging very emotional elderly ladies, or thanking recent fans who have discovered them on Instagram and come to show support and donate a few dollars.
"Minneapolis is a beautiful city, full of heart and soul," says Anne, who has been living here for 12 years. "They are, we are, people who care about their neighbors. Our humanity doesn't fade, they won't extinguish it."