On a quiet Wednesday morning in April 2026, Nazir Khan picked up the phone, still feeling the effects of nearly two weeks without solid food. Hours earlier, he had taken his first bites since beginning a hunger strike aimed at shutting down a long-operating trash incinerator in north Minneapolis. Alongside two fellow community organizers, Khan had refused food for 12 days to draw attention to what activists describe as an ongoing environmental injustice in a predominantly Black neighborhood.
The hunger strike concluded after a meeting with Hennepin County commissioners, where the activists urged officials to set a firm date for decommissioning the Hennepin Energy Recovery Center (HERC). Although no immediate vote was taken, the action brought renewed public focus to the facility, which has burned municipal waste since 1989 and remains one of only about 73 such incinerators still operating in the United States — down from nearly 200 at the industry’s peak in the 1990s.
Located near Target Field in the North Loop, the HERC incinerator processes roughly 1,000 tons of trash daily, generating enough electricity to power approximately 25,000 homes, according to county data. However, residents and advocacy groups have long argued that the facility disproportionately burdens nearby communities, particularly in north Minneapolis, where asthma-related emergency room visits exceed state averages and long-term exposure to particulate matter has been linked to elevated health risks.
These concerns were validated in part by a 2022 Sierra Club analysis, which estimated that emissions from HERC contribute to one to two premature deaths annually in the surrounding area. The Natural Resources Defense Council has too documented associations between proximity to trash incinerators and increased risks of cancer, birth defects, and respiratory illnesses.
Activists Demand Accountability and a Just Transition
The hunger strike was organized by the Zero Burn Coalition, a collective advocating for the closure of HERC and investment in zero-waste alternatives. Activists including Khan, Natasha Villanueva, and Joshua Lewis framed their action not only as a protest against pollution but as a call for democratic accountability. Their core demands were twofold: establish a clear, enforceable timeline for shutting down the incinerator and ensure a just transition process that centers community input in determining what replaces it.
Prior to the strike, Hennepin County officials had indicated a tentative closure window between 2028 and 2040 — a range activists criticized as too vague and distant to address urgent health concerns. During the hunger strike, participants maintained a rigorous schedule of public appearances, including rallies, legislative hearings, and daily sit-ins at the Hennepin County Government Center, though they reported repeatedly being denied direct meetings with commissioners.
According to Villanueva, who lives in the Jordan neighborhood just north of the facility, the strike was necessary to break through institutional inertia. “What is moral does not always correlate to how systems in our society operate,” she stated during the action. The activists reported gaining national attention, with dozens of organizations expressing solidarity, though they noted that county officials remained largely silent during public comment periods at board meetings.
Lewis, another participant, emphasized the symbolic weight of the sacrifice: “The sacrifice of food makes this non-negotiable.” He linked the campaign to broader struggles against environmental racism, noting that HERC’s location in a majority-Black and low-income area reflects patterns seen nationwide, where polluting infrastructure is disproportionately sited near marginalized communities.
Health Impacts and Historical Context Fuel the Fight
Activists point to decades of community complaints about the facility, ranging from noxious odors to concerns about truck traffic and ash handling. Before odor control technology was installed around 2015, residents frequently described unpleasant smells emanating from the plant, particularly during warmer months. Even with upgrades, hundreds of garbage trucks continue to traverse north Minneapolis streets daily en route to the facility, a route activists say avoids wealthier, whiter parts of the city.
The HERC’s operational history includes periods of controversy over expansion attempts. In the early 2010s, advocates successfully blocked efforts to increase the incinerator’s capacity to approximately 1,200 tons per day. Khan, who came to Minneapolis 11 years ago as a labor organizer, noted that his involvement in environmental justice deepened through experiences with the Standing Rock protests and opposition to the Enbridge Line Three pipeline. His work with the Minnesota Environmental Justice Table later included efforts to apply labor-organizing principles to long-term environmental advocacy.
A whistleblower who contacted the group six years prior to the hunger strike provided documentation alleging safety violations at HERC, including images of ash mishandling and worker injuries. Activists said they have repeatedly sought dialogue with facility workers but have not yet established sustained communication.
National Trends and Local Implications
The fight over HERC reflects broader shifts in U.S. Waste management. While no novel municipal trash incinerators have been built in the United States since the 1990s, the technology remains in use in nearly three dozen states. Proponents argue that modern facilities reduce landfill use and generate energy, but critics contend that incineration undermines recycling and composting efforts while releasing harmful pollutants, including dioxins and heavy metals.
Activists cite Detroit’s 2019 closure of its trash incinerator as a model, noting that recycling rates in that city have since increased significantly. They argue that HERC’s continued operation impedes progress toward zero-waste goals, particularly as Hennepin County promotes recycling and composting initiatives elsewhere.
Khan drew a personal connection to the issue, referencing his father’s origins in India and the presence of a large incinerator near Delhi, which he described as a site of similar environmental justice concerns. This global perspective, he said, informs the local struggle: “We’re not just fighting for cleaner air in north Minneapolis — we’re challenging a model that sacrifices communities for convenience.”
What Comes Next?
As of late April 2026, the hunger strike has ended, but activists say their campaign continues. They report that a state legislator facilitated contact with county officials, opening the door to potential negotiations. However, no formal agreement on a closure date or transition plan has been reached.
The Hennepin County Board of Commissioners has not scheduled a public vote on HERC’s future, though activists maintain that sustained pressure will be necessary to move beyond discussion to action. They encourage residents to follow official county channels for updates on waste management policy and to participate in public forums where the issue may be addressed.
For those seeking to learn more or get involved, the Zero Burn Coalition and Minnesota Environmental Justice Table provide information through their respective websites and social media channels. Activists stress that meaningful change requires both public awareness and sustained civic engagement.
As the conversation around HERC evolves, the central question remains: how quickly can Hennepin County transition away from a waste-burning facility that, despite its energy output, continues to raise serious concerns about health, equity, and environmental sustainability in the communities closest to it?
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