In Aitkin County Minnesota, in a tiny blip of a town called Palisade, population 167, is a local artist named Shanai Matteson keeping a pot of soup simmering. It’s community night, and though she never officially called it a potluck, her neighbors always bring dishes to share. This monthly gathering has become something people look forward to, a small but vital spark of connection in a community that’s weathered its share of storms.
Shanai’s approach to community organizing isn’t what you might expect. There are no megaphones, no protest signs—at least not right now. Instead, there’s soup and conversation, printmaking workshops, and quilting circles. As an artist and cultural organizer, she’s helping rebuild something that’s been slowly eroded in her rural community: a sense of belonging and collective power.
“Sometimes I just want to be recognized,” one woman told Shanai at a recent gathering. She wasn’t seeking fame—she simply wanted her neighbors to know she had something to contribute. “That’s so-and-so,” she wanted people to say, “she knows how to do things. If you need help, call her.” It’s a sentiment that cuts to the heart of what’s been lost in many rural communities: the web of connections that once made people feel responsible for and to each other.
Shanai’s work in Aitkin County, A Minnesota count in the bottom quarter by household income according to the US Census, takes on special urgency against a backdrop of extractive industries that have long targeted the region. When a tar sands pipeline project came through in 2020, followed quickly by plans for a nickel mine, Shanai found herself at the intersection of environmental justice, Indigenous rights, and rural community survival. Her stance against these projects led to personal costs—including being put on trial in her hometown on conspiracy charges, an experience that could have destroyed her standing in the community.
But instead of retreating, Shanai doubled down on showing up for her neighbors. When a community member suggested using their monthly gatherings to prepare meals for seniors who struggle with cooking, Shanai’s response was immediate: “What can I do to help you do that?” She understands that building power starts with meeting immediate needs and nurturing relationships, and it also starts with not doing everything on your own, but helping people step into their own ability to contribute.
This work takes many forms. Sometimes it’s a “tap water bar” serving tasting flights of local tap water to spark conversations about water protection. Other times it’s “Talon Mine Tours,” a creative project offering free educational tours of a mine that doesn’t exist yet—helping people understand what’s at stake before the damage is done. Through Fire in the Village, an organization she co-founded with Anishinaabe artist Annie Humphrey, Shanai brings arts and culture experiences to small communities across the region, connecting isolated “little fires” into something bigger.
But this vital work of building civic infrastructure faces significant challenges, especially in rural places. Political violence and intimidation make people afraid to speak up or run for office. The constant pressure of poverty makes communities vulnerable to extractive industries promising jobs. And there’s a profound lack of progressive organizing infrastructure in rural areas—something Shanai is working to change, one potluck at a time.
The solution isn’t as simple as launching a traditional political campaign or starting another nonprofit. What’s needed is patient, long-term investment in the kind of relationship-building work Shanai does—work that doesn’t always fit neatly into grant cycles or impact metrics. It’s about supporting local leaders who understand their communities’ complexities and can bridge divides between urban and rural, Indigenous and settler communities.
“We can’t keep fighting one campaign after another as if they’re not connected,” Shanai reflects. “We have to repair relationships first.” This means creating spaces where people feel brave enough to speak up, where they can practice taking care of each other, and where they can imagine different futures for their communities.
As evening falls in Aitkin County, people linger over empty soup bowls, sharing ideas about food security, discussing local politics, and making plans for next month’s gathering. It might look simple, but this is what building power looks like in rural America—one conversation, one relationship, one pot of soup at a time.
Shanai is a storyteller in her own right. Follow her on Substack, here: https://substack.com/@shanaimatteson
