I was there on Wednesday, at the Black Lives Matter protests at the Mall of America, at the airport, and on the light rail.

I was there on Wednesday with my 12 and 7-year-old daughters.

I was there because we were there a year ago—our first visit to the mall with 3,000 of our closest friends. As my older daughter pointed out when I was wavering on my decision to go, “It’s our holiday tradition, Dad! On Thanksgiving we protest Walmart. At Christmas, we go to the mall with Black Lives Matter!”

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