May Day 2025

Thank you to the Party for Socialism and Liberation for inviting me to speak at the Waukegan May Day action today. Below are some of the words I shared on the mic:

My name is Sandra, and I’m a co-founder of the Center for Immigrant Progress, a local immigrant rights organization. Thank you for inviting me to the mic today.

My story like many immigrant families, is the story of a family simply trying to remain together.

I was born in Mexico. I came to the United States when I was just five years old. I grew up in Houston, Texas. And I am lucky to have DACA. Which gives me a work permit and protection from deportation. 13 years later, I am still undocumented. At its peak, over 800,000 people like me were able to benefit from this program.

In 2017, DACA was rescinded for the first time by the Trump administration. That same year, my county in Texas signed on to the 287(g) agreement, allowing local police to collaborate with ICE. Meaning that a simple traffic stop could lead to detention or deportation.

Those two events combined forced my family to make the decision to move once again, this time to Illinois. And it was here, in this safer space, that I began advocating for my immigrant community.

The truth is, this policy, 287g, wasn’t new. It dates back to 1996, through something called the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRIRA). And still today it continues to be implemented in towns and cities across the country.

The cruelty we are seeing today isn’t unprecedented, but what’s changed is how blatant it’s become. They are no longer hiding their intent. They’re clear about who they think deserves to be here and who they want to push out. They are openly working to strip away the rights of immigrants and non-immigrants alike.

I want you to take a moment to imagine these situations:

Kilmar Abrego García—a father—torn from his family, without a criminal record, denied his day in court, and sent to a foreign prison known for human rights violations and lack of due process. Regardless of whether someone is labeled as a criminal in our society, no human being should be restricted of their freedom and held captive indefinitely in those conditions. Those actions affect our humanity as well. The constitution guarantees due process for all people, citizen or not, and when one person does not have it, none of us do.

Mahmoud Khalil—a graduate student at Columbia University and a green card holder who was abducted and detained for protesting the war in Gaza, exercising his freedom of speech, which is what we are all doing here today. He was separated from his wife and unborn child at the time. He is still fighting in the courts for his freedom.

A family in Oklahoma—mistakenly raided by ICE. Twenty agents stormed into their home in the middle of the night, guns drawn and pointed at them, forcing them and their children out of their home, some still in their underwear.

These are not isolated incidents. These are just the ones that have made the news. There are countless more, each one a symptom of a broken, profit-driven system.

We need to ask ourselves: Why so much suffering? Who profits when we struggle? Who is in the business of human suffering?

Corporations.

Our immigration system, like our prison system, is deeply tied to profit. Private prison companies like The GEO Group and CoreCivic, and others like them make billions of dollars from human suffering. Today, more than 80% of people in ICE custody are held in privately run facilities.

This isn’t about public safety. It’s about a cruel business.

Imagine if instead, we invested in education, housing, and healthcare for all people, instead of incarceration, deportation, and making the rich richer. Imagine what our communities could become.

In times like these, I encourage you to find your people, build community. There’s a reason they keep trying to divide us, because deep down, we all know we’re fighting the same monster.

So talk to your neighbors. Check in on your friends. When we come together, we realize that as frightening as some of the headlines may seem, there is still hope.

I’ll be honest, my relationship with this country is complicated. At times, it definitely feels abusive. But I still believe we can do better. I believe we can learn from our history.

When I look to my loved ones, when I hear the laughter of children playing, seeing all of you standing here today, I’m reminded of what we’re fighting for. And who we’re fighting for.

Our children. Our elders. Our families. Our communities. They're all worth fighting for.

May Day is International Workers’ Day. And today I’m reminded that I come from revolutionaries. People who fought long before the idea of me existed. I come from a colonized country into a colonized country, so much bravery and courage were needed simply for my existence in this time and space to be accepted.

So many people before me put their heart and soul in ensuring there was a future for people like me, and I am so grateful for their bravery. And I want my children and my childrens’ children to know that, like our ancestors, I fought for them too.

Today, we join people across the world in standing up for dignity, fairness, and fundamental human rights. We stand with each other for each other.

May Day is a reminder that we are not alone in this fight.

Before I go, I want you all to join me in a chant -

Solid as a rock

Rooted as a tree

I am here

Standing strong

In my rightful place

Thank you.