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From Minneapolis to Nigeria: A Prayer, a Prophecy, and a Patchwork of Resistance
By Coalition Against the Minnesota Paradox
June 12, 2016 | Minneapolis, MN
In a sunlit Hennepin County Government Center Court Yard in South Minneapolis, artists, organizers, and everyday revolutionaries gathered in a circle of intention. They were sewing—threading together patches of fabric, yes, but more than that, threading together stories, resistance, healing. This was the work of the Million Artist Movement (MAM)—a network of Black and brown artists and allies committed to Black liberation and building power through creativity and community. Their motto is simple: “Listen. Heal. Act.”
Founded on the principles of equity, expression, and direct engagement, MAM uses art as a vehicle for change. From quilt-making and freedom songs to public action and protest, the movement’s work is rooted in ancestral knowledge and forward-looking liberation. “We make art to heal. We make art to be free,” their site declares. In a society where systems are often weaponized against the very people they claim to serve, MAM is reweaving the torn cloth of community, one story at a time.
One such story is that of Adebola, a first-generation Yoruba woman born and raised in South Minneapolis. Her name means “the crown has met wealth,” but her life has been marked by systemic deprivation.
In 2003, Adebola and her family became entangled in what would prove to be a life-altering crisis within Minnesota’s Medicaid fraud: the PMAP and HBCB Waiver medical insurance programs. These programs, theoretically designed to help low-income and disabled residents, instead blocked Adebola from accessing essential medical care. Over years of bureaucratic stonewalling and neglect, her health deteriorated. The untreated condition left her permanently and progressively disabled. Her body bears the wounds of a system that failed her. So does her family—left struggling socioeconomically, emotionally fragmented, and spiritually tested.
In the spirit of resistance and reclamation, Adebola found herself drawn to the Million Artist Movement. There, she contributed her story to one of the collective’s iconic patchwork quilts—living testaments of struggle and survival. Her patch was sewn with both grief and prophecy. It read:
"Unity. From Minnesota to Nigeria. One World, One Love. Stand In Solidarity. Stop The Violence. Speak Up. You Have a Voice, You Have a Talent, Use It To Build Community Wherever You Go. Let Your Light Shine!"
This wasn’t just a message. It was a declaration. A call to action. A transatlantic prayer.
"My Goodness, They're Waking In Nigeria." — 2017 Update
In 2017, while Adebola continued to organize and advocate for freedom in Minnesota, she watched a different struggle unfold across the Atlantic in Nigeria. There, youth were beginning to rally against the long-standing brutality of the Special Anti-Robbery Squad—SARS—a notorious unit of the Nigerian police known for extortion, torture, and extrajudicial killings.
The movement grew slowly, then rapidly, as the hashtag #EndSARS emerged as a digital battle cry. It wasn’t just about police violence; it was about a larger hunger for dignity, safety, and justice.
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"Look at God! They're Resisting. This is why I never let go of faith." — 2020 Update
And then, in 2020, the world watched what Adebola believed was possible since 2016: thousands of Nigerian youth rising up in peaceful protest, demanding an end to corruption and brutality. It was global. It was loud. It was beautiful. And it was met with violent suppression—echoing the same themes of state violence and structural neglect that she had faced in Minnesota.
But something had shifted.
Adebola believes this movement is a fulfillment of a long-brewing spiritual prophecy—a collective awakening not just in Nigeria, not just in the U.S., but across the African diaspora. A call for Pan-African unity, for shared healing, for revolutionary love. As the youth in Nigeria risked their lives on the front lines, their chants and songs resonated with those in Minneapolis still grieving Terrence Franklin, Philando Castile and George Floyd’s murder, as well as those hostage to the Minnesota Paradox—still alive but systematically restricted for living for the states agenda of racially and socioeconomically motivated Eugenics. The movements mirrored each other—different geographies, same heartbeat.
She continues to pray—for her body, for her family, for her state of Minnesota and the United States of America, for the healing of Black people everywhere. Her voice, often silenced by disability and systemic criminality, now rings out with prophetic clarity. “It is time to stop the suffering,” she says. “It is time to listen to the spirit of unity. The ancestors are calling us to remember—we are not alone. We are never alone.”
As the patch on the quilt says, “Let your light shine.”
From a quilt in South Minneapolis to the streets of Lagos, a prayer travels. And with it, the prophecy of a free people—one stitch, one chant, one uprising at a time.
Suggested Reading
Saint Paul Minnesota Foundation
See Our Project Tabs To check on Adebola
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