Mayday on May Day: The Distress Call of a Nation in Crisis

From an ICE yard to your inbox, the signals are everywhere: SOS. MAYDAY. HELP. This is the moment to stop mistaking the illusion of democracy for the real thing — and answer the call.

This week, a drone captured an image that should haunt this country into action.

From the air, a Reuters camera spotted dozens of Venezuelan men held in ICE detention. They were in the outdoor exercise yard, surrounded by concrete, locked in by razor wire. But they weren’t idle. They weren’t silent.

They formed themselves into a human chain. Their bodies spelled a message the world has heard before, across oceans, wars, and uprisings:

SOS

A universal cry. The cry of those who will not be erased quietly.

A signal flung upward into the sky: We are here. We are suffering. And still, we resist.

Many saw a story about immigration.

But this was not just about borders. Not just about them.

This was a message to us.

Because the system that locked them behind that wire, without charge or trial or mercy, is the same system that has been allowed to grow stronger on the backs of the powerless. It was forged in the fires of colonization, perfected on the bodies of immigrants, and now turns its gaze inward — toward all of us.

Immigration detention has always been the prototype for domestic tyranny.

Surveillance. Raids. Data profiling. Separation. Indefinite detention. Legal evasion through language and delay. These are not new features of the American landscape. They are old blueprints, tested on immigrants, refined with each administration, and expanded into policy. Into precedent. Into normalization.

The ruling this Thursday against the Trump administration’s use of the Alien Enemies Act felt like a relief. A district court judge said no. No, a president cannot declare a nationality an enemy based on shadows and stereotypes. No, you cannot erase rights by decree.

But let’s not confuse the sound of a gavel with the promise of justice.

This is not resolution. This is rehearsal.

Because this is how the regime operates: by losing upward. It provokes. It loses in the headlines. And then it wins in the margins, in the footnotes, in the appeals. It wants the Fifth Circuit. It wants the Supreme Court. It wants a 9-0 ruling like the one in the case of Kilmar Abrego García — a ruling so vague both sides could claim victory. And in the end, Kilmar remains in prison. So guess which side won.

That wasn’t confusion. That was strategy. That was the point.

And I said it first. Before the spin. Before the silence. I named it.

The Trapdoor Verdict

Just like those men in detention named something with their bodies.

SOS

A call to conscience. A mirror held up to a nation that pretends not to see.

They are inside the wire. But we are not free. We are living through the slow-motion collapse of rights we once believed were permanent.

And yet — there is hope. Not in the courtrooms. Not in the chambers. But in the courage of those who refuse to disappear.

When ICE raided Chicago homes, it was immigrant youth who created defense hotlines, phone trees, neighbors knocking doors.

When families were caged in Texas, it was the mothers who refused their meals, who sent their hunger as signal. And I was there. I carried their voices to the media. I brought the fire of their dignity into public view.

Their defiance sent a message far beyond those walls — not to the courts, but to every immigrant surviving under the weight of this regime: You can fight. You are not alone.

Courage is contagious.

That is the soul of resistance. Not just action, but visibility. Not just speaking, but refusing to be erased.

When ICE teamed with local police, it was undocumented organizers who built digital tools to track every move, map every pattern, and warn every neighbor.

Every time they were pushed into the shadows, they found new ways to shine.

Every time the state tried to erase them, they wrote a message the state could not ignore.

SOS

So if you're watching these rulings come down and wondering what to do...
If you feel the walls tightening...
If you’re searching the sky for signs...

Look at that yard.

Look at those men.

Look at what they made of their moment.

And ask yourself:

What can we make of ours?
What will we write with our bodies, our labor, our refusal to bow?
Who are we calling?

Because the truth is, we are all entangled in the same machine. Some of us can see the bars. Some of us still mistake the illusion of freedom for the real thing.

They sent us a sign.
Let us answer it.

With strategy.
With solidarity.
With every tool immigrants have sharpened in the dark.

The Firewall is one such tool.
A signal flaring through the noise.
A call to each of us who still believes this country can be something more.

Do not wait for courts to save you.
Do not wait for someone else to make the call.

The signers of the Declaration didn’t wait.
The mothers in Karnes didn’t wait.
The youth in Chicago didn’t wait.

We won’t either.

So don’t just share this post.
Answer it.
Form the message.

SOS

It means: We see you.
It means: Help us.
It means: We refuse to vanish.

And it means this fight isn’t over.
Not yet.
Not ever.

From SOS to CTA

This is the moment to act.

If the image of those men in the yard moved you — don’t let that feeling pass. Let it become motion.

Join us Monday for the next Firewall Network organizing call. We’re not waiting on permission. We’re building resistance inside our professions, our institutions, and our everyday lives. One conversation. One Hub. One refusal at a time.

Show up. Bring your fear, your fire, your questions, your skills.

Monday, 7PM ET / 6PM CT / 4PM PT

Sign up here and you’ll receive an email with the Zoom link:

And if this article said something you’ve been struggling to put into words — share it. With your friends. With your coworkers. With the ones who still believe we can stop this.

Because that’s how resistance spreads.
One signal at a time.