Marching down Blatchley.
John Lugo, ever organizing.
Hundreds of people— and dozens of towering skeletons— filled Blatchley Avenue Saturday night to march in Unidad Latina en Acción’s (ULA) 15th annual Day of the Dead parade, an act of remembrance, celebration, and resistance to the Trump administration’s immigration policies.
“This is one of the best events that we have had in years,” said ULA lead organizer John Lugo, who helms the grassroots immigrant- and workers-rights organization behind the event.
Lugo estimated a turnout of 600 people at the parade, which started and ended at Bregamos Community Theater at 491 Blatchley. A number of local and state elected officials were there, including Mayor Justin Elicker. “I was very happy to see the Mayor of New Haven, leaders in the community,” he said. “It was a big encouragement that we’re fighting the right fight.”
Grisela Luna and her mother Nina watched as a batch of cars, decked out in cobwebs and calaveras, revved into line to start the parade. Nina remembered spending the holiday with her family in the Mexican state of Oaxaca. There, the festival is a multi-day event. On the first, they bring flowers to the cemetery. On the second, potlucks sprawl across town. On the third, families trek to each other’s houses.
Since moving to the US 25 years ago, Nina has missed the rich celebration of the festival. Her father passed away last year. It was their first time putting up an altar in the house, their first time at ULA’s parade, their first time really having someone to honor and remember. Asked how the show of community made her feel Saturday night, Nina replied: “Feliz.” Happy.
Yaminay Chaudhri, a professor at Yale, echoed Nina’s excitement. This was her family’s first time attending a Day of the Dead celebration. Their 4-year-old son Mikayel was thrilled by the liveliness surrounding him— the face-painted revelers, the girls in their quinceañera dresses, the enormous skeleton puppets ringed with flowers and intricate designs.
The joy was infectious, but it wasn’t the only reason Chaudhri and her family showed up on Saturday. This year’s parade was dedicated to the 20 migrants who have died in ICE custody in 2025. It also came as federal immigration agents under the Trump administration have stepped up their arrests across the country, including in and around New Haven.
“That’s why we’re here,” Chaudhri said. “It’s a really tough time in the city. Everyone has been touched by the fear of ICE. In the classroom, my students are scared. Anyone who looks like a person of color is afraid. It’s an important time to come together.”
On their way to the festival, a large van stopped them and asked if they were headed to the parade and where it was located. “I felt frightened, didn’t give them any information,” Chaudhri said, “but that’s the kind of ridiculous fear. We checked their license plates, but ICE cars are also going around with them, so how can you tell?”
Other community members who attended Saturday’s event also pointed to an undercurrent of fear spurred by ICE arrests. Two weeks ago, ICE raided a car wash in Hamden. Last week, a young man in Bridgeport was assaulted by men wearing “FBI” jackets.
“What’s happening in our country goes against everything we’ve ever stood for,” said Joe Lieb, a member of ULA. In Saturday’s parade, Lieb marched the 1.7 mile route carrying a giant puppet skeleton that bore the sign: No one is illegal. He didn’t make the poster, “but I figured it’s a good one!”
“It spoke to him,” chimed Joe’s wife, Lisa Lieb. “Because that’s exactly it, right? I have a friend from India and she’s afraid to leave her house. How do you say people are illegal?”
As Italian-Americans, it was the Liebs’ first time celebrating the Day of the Dead. Tying the knot eight years ago, now, the Liebs spend their weekends organizing in the community. “We’ve been protesting everywhere. Hartford, New Haven, everywhere.” Last week, they were at a protest at the downtown courthouse. Before that, at a No Kings march. “This is what we do for fun now,” Lisa laughed, catching her husband’s eye.
“This is self-defense,” said Diamond Tree, self-professed as “Hood Hula,” who was also in attendance at Saturday’s parade. Diamond Tree is a professional hula hooper and also a martial artist. The evening felt in line with her practice. “It’s about standing up for yourself, not being scared.”
A sought after performer at events like this, in Saturday’s parade, she twirled with a giant skull mask on her head. “This expression is how I feel inside,” she said.
“I love that they’re representing the people who died in ICE raids. I can resonate with that because my ancestors were the same, you know. We give honor to our ancestors. That’s what they’re doing, honoring the people back home, and the people that should’ve been taken care of.”
Each of the catrinas that evening—the skeletal figures donned on masks and cars and puppets— represented someone. “One of them was a sex worker. One of them, the director of the People’s Center. One of them was a Black Panther who died a few years ago,” said Lugo. “We also have small skeletons. When 22 people were killed on the street in New Haven, we made 22 puppets.”
Before the parade started, Chaudhri’s son was perched on his dad’s shoulders, eyeing the catrinas around him and shaking with awe. “Mama look,” he cried, pointing in the distance. “That car has eyebrows on it.”
Chaudhri humored him, gasping at his discovery. “We have to be here in solidarity for people,” she had said earlier, when asked what brought them to the event. Now, she ruffled his hair. “We’ve been sending him to Spanish lessons. Right now, he knows more than us.” As the family wandered into the crowd, Mikayel continued his shrieks of delight. His discovery of this new world was marked not by fear but curiosity. It felt right what Chaudhri said. Though only 4 years old, there is something Mikayel knows that the rest of us need to remember.
Grisela Luna (right) and her mom Nina. Credit: Aanika Eragam photos.
An ofrenda inside Bregamos before the start of the parade.
The Liebs: No human is illegal. Credit: Thomas Breen photos