Jennyfer Mesa: Building solidarity for immigrants through community mutual aid

By Jennyfer Mesa

This weekend, I embarked on a personal journey to ride my bike from Seattle to Portland, covering 200 miles in two days. Throughout the past few weeks, I’ve been feeling stressed and in need of time alone to reflect and meditate. Riding my bike is my medicine; it’s a place where I can escape from the world and find healing. The rhythmic/bilateral motions help me process my thoughts, emotions, and soften my PTSD. I felt a calling to pause everything and go on this ride. What I discovered is that my calling to ride was also a calling to share my experience and ways to build solidarity.

At first, I thought it was a risk to register for the solo ride, but upon arrival, I found myself among 6,000 riders. It felt as if I had joined others who shared the same calling. Each rider had their own motivations and goals, yet we formed a large community, a caravan. It was also my first-time riding in a large group, and I had concerns about being too slow or getting in people’s way. As soon as we started pedaling, we took motion to ride as one. It felt as if we were flying, like we were flocking together. We fell into formation, creating groups and patterns to ride and migrate together. We made space for each other, ensuring we didn’t overcrowd while staying close enough to encourage one another to maintain the pace. There was no plan or agenda; we naturally shared responsibilities and kept each other safe as we ventured into rural and isolated areas. Although we were strangers, during this ride, we were in it together, collaborating in our shared humanity, interconnected and in motion.

As we entered towns along the route, we were greeted with cheers and warmth from the locals. Instead of perceiving us as a threat, they invited us in. People shared their food, neighborhoods set up water stations to keep us hydrated during our journey, and some even offered baked goods. Witnessing this shared mutual aid was truly beautiful. It taught me that even in a polarized world, communities and individuals possess a remarkable capacity for caring. This shared solidarity reveals the better side of humanity and what we can create through love.

As a Latina immigrant, I couldn’t help but think that 6,000-plus riders represented a moving city, almost equivalent to the 2018 caravan. It made me question why we were deserving of care while others were not. Why is it legal for these families and volunteers to provide water to us on our ride, but illegal for others to offer water to dehydrated migrants? Why is it that we weren’t met with fear or hostility as immigrants fleeing danger face every day on their journey to safety? We shared the same characteristics as migrant caravans, people moving together in motion and keeping each other safe in their journey. Just this week, we learned that Gov. Greg Abbott assigned Texas troopers to deny migrants water, push children into the Rio Grande, and installed water barriers to prevent immigrants from crossing and put them at risk of drowning. During the Seattle to Portland ride, there were children riding with their parents. How is it that they are seen as good parents, while migrants are labeled as bad parents for bringing their children? I know these laws and anti-immigrant sentiments do not align with who we truly are in our hearts.

As an immigrant advocate and community organizer, I constantly witness the existence of these two worlds. I know that we have the ability to create a better world for ourselves and our neighbors. We don’t need to operate in fear of scarcity or in fear of others. Our country and cities have ample resources to share. We can establish communities that are welcoming and inclusive.

Today, I ask you: How can we extend this mutual aid beyond rides, races, parades, music festivals and other events? We excel at creating these moments. I have witnessed this during the Seattle to Portland ride, Bloomsday in Spokane and even at Burning Man, where people build a temporary city to embrace art and pleasure. Does the love and shared mutual aid end at the finish line? Can we carry this energy into our communities? Imagine how beautiful it would be if we greeted immigrants with the same warmth and love instead of dangerous barriers and hate. This weekend, I learned that we have the capacity to build a world of support and love, and we can also be the people who can live in such a world together.

Jennyfer Mesa is executive director and founder of Latinos En Spokane. She directs the programs and projects for Latinos En Spokane including the Community Comadre health program, El Mercadito, and Center for Latinos en Spokane.