When I arrived in Minneapolis, the frost had just lifted, and gray clouds hung low over the horizon. I had come to make a pilgrimage to George Floyd Square, where the revolution of 2020 began. It has been more than five years since Floyd lost his life and became a patron saint of the Left, and I wanted to see what had happened here since then.
The square is situated in a run-down intersection that now features a statue of a clenched black fist in the central roundabout. On one corner stands a minimarket called Unity Foods—formerly Cup Foods—where George Floyd passed the counterfeit bill that set off the chain of events that culminated in his death. Across the street is an abandoned gas station that has been covered in graffiti and protest slogans since the initial unrest.
A group of vagrants had lit a bonfire in a metal drum beneath the gas station canopy. When I asked them about Floyd, they avoided the question; they weren’t interested in politics. They had chosen the spot to light fires, fence stolen goods, and smoke fentanyl, because it was peaceful and nobody bothered them…