‘A hornet’s nest of rebellion’: How Charlotte’s show of solidarity against Border Patrol ignited a grassroots defense

When federal immigration agents swept into Charlotte, writes North Carolina organizer Gwen Frisbie-Fulton, residents mobilized overnight with an intergenerational response that transformed fear into a remarkable grassroots defense effort.  

“A hornet’s nest of rebellion.”

That’s what British General Cornwallis called Charlotte, North Carolina during the Revolutionary War. 

Last week, Charlotte said: “Damn straight.” 

There are two ways to talk about what happened during the Department of Homeland Security’s “Operation Charlotte’s Web,” when federal immigration enforcement descended upon the Charlotte area. Both stories are true.

The first story is about the lawless chaos that was brought into our communities by armed, aggressive Customs and Border Patrol officers dressed in military fatigues. In Raleigh, an 18-year-old was grabbed from a construction site, thrown into a van, then dumped on the side of the road when agents figured out he was a citizen. They threw the contents of his wallet out the window and drove away.

In Charlotte, CBP smashed a man’s truck window and dragged him out, even as he hollered that he was a citizen. They also dumped him blocks away and took his keys. Bystanders helped him get his truck towed.

A mother had her car window smashed out and was arrested for honking at CBP agents. Horrified onlookers called 911, not sure what they were seeing. At least two daycares locked down as federal agents swarmed around their facilities. Men cleaning up a church’s grounds were chased while children cowered and cried inside with their pastor. 

This violent show of force has emotionally, physically, psychologically, and economically scarred North Carolina. Businesses closed out of fear for their workers and patrons, churches cancelled holiday celebrations, job sites were empty, and 45,000 students across the state were absent as families were too frightened to leave home. 

The City of Lenoir postponed its annual Christmas tree lighting out of concern for residents’ safety, and I spoke with a pastor who was trying to figure out how to hold a funeral safely; her congregation has many refugees.

Local resolve against federal force

But here’s the second story. The community response was, in a word, incredible. 

As soon as Border Patrol showed up in Charlotte neighborhoods, so did local residents. They blew whistles, warned their neighbors, and stood vigil. While the DHS operation felt dangerous, unhinged, and like an invasion, the community response felt safe, steady, and familiar.

Not only were people showing up to protests in major cities and smaller towns alike, they were also plugging into serious organizing. Night after night, churches filled with hundreds of people being trained to join safety patrols, document detentions, and canvass businesses about their 4th Amendment rights. 

Siembra, the Carolina Migrant Network, and Communidad Collectiva sent out alerts as residents reported CBP sightings. Quickly, volunteer shifts filled up—people were needed to verify agent sightings, scour social media, and take hotline shifts. Siembra and other groups began hosting volunteer training sessions in churches and online. 

By the end of the week, thousands of people had attended trainings in person and online. In Charlotte, over 1,000 people joined safety patrol shifts, walking through neighborhoods, standing outside grocery stores and in shopping centers, all to make sure that people could get to work and school safely–and make it back home again. 

When word came that CBP was expanding its operation to Raleigh, nearly 700 people signed up to join safety patrols overnight. I couldn’t be more proud of my state. 

Solidarity across generations

I met a 30-year-old Puerto Rican, carrying her passport in case CPB tried to detain her, who was handing out the hotline number at a beauty supply store. I met a college student who was arranging rides for his classmates so they didn’t have to stand outside to wait for a bus. I met a 66-year-old grandmother who joined a safety brigade on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. “I couldn’t do it Tuesday,” she explained. “Because that’s my day with my grandson.” 

But on Wednesday, she was back out.

I spoke with a mom in Durham who put out a call for parents to join her at the school dropoff line to welcome children and make them feel safe–600 people signed up within hours. By midweek, she had over 2,000 volunteers. 

Hundreds of people dropped off food at a Charlotte daycare that supports refugee children so meal boxes could be delivered to their homes until the threat had cleared. Nearly 200 volunteers filed into a Raleigh church basement to assemble know-your-rights cards and whistle kits.

While some businesses had to close for safety reasons, others stepped in. Compare Foods suspended delivery fees for online shopping after its store’s customers were targeted by CBP. Carolina’s Towing offered free towing to help families retrieve cars left behind when loved ones were pulled out of them and detained. The City of Charlotte announced a fund to help families with rent and utilities if they lost wages due to businesses closing or workers had to stay home out of fear. 

This second story didn’t happen magically–it happened because North Carolinians made it happen. It happened because parents stood at school doors welcoming children, because line cooks, welders, teachers and lawyers joined safety patrols after getting off work, and because pastors and business owners put signs up on their doors that read: ICE NOT WELCOME HERE. 

The first story of the violent, chaotic incursion is important to know. We need to understand what these federal agents did and understand why: They are trying to create a culture of fear and intimidation and pit communities against each other. 

But the second story, the story of tens of thousands of individuals instinctively wanting to protect their neighbors and quickly figuring out how, is the story we need to metastasize to our bones. 

Learning from Charlotte’s resistance and insistence 

Communities across the country need to prepare for when DHS operations come to their towns. North Carolina was well equipped for this moment because of the long-term, on-the-ground organizing of groups such as Siembra NC and Carolina Migrant Network. Similar local networks, formal and informal, need to be built in advance of their arrival. 

Before they come, volunteers can be trained, business and residents can be educated about their rights, hotlines can be set up, and communication tools can be established. But the most important thing any one person can do is plug and build connections– connections across families, neighborhoods, congregations, organizations, and schools

ICE is still here and Border Patrol will be back. To cheers of “Ice melts faster in the South,” they seem to have left sooner than they originally planned. But we did not defeat them in North Carolina; we did not change their inhumane policies or stop their war-like orientation. Over 300 North Carolinians, most without any criminal history, have been disappeared. 

I don’t even know if we can call what we did in North Carolina a “resistance.” But what we did do was issue an insistence. We insisted on who we are and what we stand for as a state. We dipped into our deep Southern understanding of community, neighborliness, and freedom. 

And what Border Patrol did was step into a hornet’s nest.