Minnesota Prairie Roots

THIS MORNING, outside a Faribault grocery store, I observed a White man overtly express his disgust for three Somalis. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, looking directly at them.

I knew exactly what he meant. And it made me sick to hear the Lord’s name taken in vain by this man who clearly held nothing but disdain for Somalis. His tone of voice, his word choice, the way he looked at the trio told me precisely how he felt. And it was not loving, accepting or kind.

Here’s the situation leading to the man’s outburst: A Somali man, returning his cart to the grocery store cart corral, offered his cart to a Somali mom and her son heading into the grocery store. The cart rolled a short ways across the pavement. Not toward anyone. Not toward any vehicle. But it was enough to prompt the White guy to emphatically state, “Jesus Christ!”

I was so taken aback by his two words that I turned around and looked at him. He didn’t see me. He was walking away toward his parked vehicle. But I hope he felt the heat of the fire flaming from my eyes. Such intolerance does not sit well with me.

Onward I went with my grocery shopping, crossing paths occasionally with the Somali mom and her son, about 13. I waited in the check out line behind them, observed the son unloading groceries and then packing them to wheel out in his cart.

As I walked toward my vehicle, I saw the boy wheeling his cart back toward the grocery store. I stopped him. “I’m so proud of you for helping your mom,” I said after confirming the woman was his mother. His face lit up into a broad smile. “Thank you,” he said.

Two words. Beautiful. Appreciative. And nothing at all like the words spoken by the man who failed to see what I saw—a mom and her son heading into the grocery store on a Saturday morning. Just like me.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling