Proud. Particular. Pointed.

I grew up thinking that Minnesota was a state full of nice white people with curious accents and more curious food choices who really liked being cold for most of the year. That stereotype came to me from my dad’s side of the family, as my paternal grandmother (a woman I never met because she died before I was born) hailed from the “Land of 10,000 Lakes.” The idea was later reinforced by Fargo, the 1996 Coen Brothers film starring Frances McDormand, and the character of Marshall Erikson on How I Met Your Mother. But between the murder of George Floyd in 2020 (and the subsequent riots, protests, and trial) and the ICE occupation of Minneapolis in 2025-26, I realized that there was probably more to the state and its capital than the average person understood.

Into that gap in my education strode The Cruelty of Nice Folks by Justin Ellis. As a long-time reader of Deadspin and Defector, I have been familiar with his writing and production skills for many years. But I was unprepared for the deep, trenchant levels of pathos that he brought to bear on his hometown, its legacy, and its future. Bearing the apt subtitle of “Why Minneapolis Is the Story of America,” he delivers a scathing indictment of the city’s history regarding its treatment of black and brown people, one that flies in the face of its alleged status as a bastion of progressive liberalism.

The twist lies in how Ellis shares that fresh perspective with hearty helpings of passion, family, and earnest storytelling. From one angle, everything is seen through the lens of how the city and state responded to the killing of George Floyd during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic. He swells with pride when writing about how people of color and some white allies rallied around the memory of Floyd, lashed out at decades of injustice, and supported each other when the community needed it most. The book takes the reader all the way through to the trial and conviction of the police officer who killed Floyd, and then discusses what happened when ICE rolled into town in 2025-26. By investigating these negligent and lethal actions of supposed law enforcement officials, he capably ties it back to how Minnesota and Minneapolis have always mistreated non-white people.

But the angle that truly matters is the one about his family, specifically his mother. Ellis and his partner returned to his hometown early in 2020 because of COVID and to begin research for this very book. While learning about Minneapolis, he also began studying his own family’s genealogy. Though his mother, aunts, and uncles had always told hilarious and memorable tall tales about bygone generations, he knew there was something more, some deep truths about the past that no one liked telling. And once his mom got sick, his quest to unearth the real stories leapt into overdrive – even as he got involved with the local community in protesting the city and state about Floyd’s death.

Justin Ellis does not sugarcoat his fact-finding and analysis regarding the treatment of BIPOC communities throughout the history of Minneapolis and Minnesota. There is nothing shy or reticent about lessons we should all learn here about the past and present of race and class relations in America. But the book also points the way forward for the city, state, and country with a combination of collective action, community organizing, radical inclusivity, and more. And that starts with loving your family and doing your best for them, whether it’s your blood family or your found family.