A Chicago mother turns May Day into a lesson for her children amid shifting immigration fears and policy uncertainty.
A Chicago mother used the morning chores of May Day to set the tone for a day she says is about more than marching: it is about teaching her kids not to shrink in fear.
Flor Ramirez was at home Friday. moving between preparations for an afternoon rally and march she planned to attend with her family. packing food and clearing space in the van for her children and a friend.. Her 8-year-old. Yessari. helped shape the moment. watching as Ramirez turned simple craft supplies into visible messages of solidarity. including “ICE OUT” painted on her cheeks.
For Ramirez, the ritual matters because it links personal memory to a wider public fight, one that has long been associated with workers’ rights and immigrant advocacy across the country.
Ramirez first joined May Day nearly two decades ago, after arriving in the United States from Puebla, Mexico.. At the time. she says she asked for time off from work to take part in an immigrant rights march and was met with skepticism. told there were “other ways” to support the cause.. But she wanted to be there. and she has returned in recent years with her husband. Armando. and their children. including a 16-year-old son and two younger daughters. gathering at Union Park for the rally and march.
What once felt like a distant political threat. Ramirez said. now feels closer because uncertainty can touch people in different immigration situations. including those with legal status.. She described her family as split across a mix of backgrounds and protections. reflecting a reality many immigrant households face: some are U.S.-born. others are not. and legal pathways can shift in ways that alter daily life.
In this context, May Day is not just about policy debates. It becomes a way for families to respond to instability with community visibility.
The day’s energy was unmistakable.. Armando carried homemade drums made from buckets, while the children marched with tambourines and bundled up when the weather cooled.. Even their transport and planning reflected an expectation that the day could be tiring or unpredictable. and that preparedness was part of showing up.
For Ramirez, this year also carries the weight of a recent experience during a period of heightened federal enforcement.. She said her son Uri, a U.S.. citizen. was at school when he received a message warning of federal agents nearby. prompting him to leave through an alternate route.. Ramirez described the fear that lingered afterward. even though her son had legal protections. and said the family has carried that feeling into the present.
That sense of what can happen “without warning” is a key reason she tells her children that silence will not keep them safe.. At the march. she pointed to the question many activists hear—what is the point of showing up—and said her answer is rooted in lived experience: rights cannot be won from hiding.
She wants her children to absorb a message she says she learned the hard way: that belonging does not require permission. that families can remain grounded even when politics feels hostile. and that they are not alone.. In the long run. Ramirez said. she hopes they grow up seeing themselves as already part of the country’s landscape. “like a well-planted tree.”
Insight: When immigration enforcement and program protections feel unstable, community events can become a stabilizing force, turning fear into shared identity and reminding families they have witnesses beyond the walls of their homes.