MINNEAPOLIS (AP) — Over a hundred attendees joined Aztec dancers as they made their way through a vibrant arch of paper flowers, entering El Colegio High School on Saturday morning. They were there to explore altars crafted by students in honor of Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead.

“It’s a way to welcome our ancestors back into our lives, not physically, but spiritually,” explained Daniela Rosales, a senior at the bilingual school in Minneapolis. “It’s about bringing the community together and fostering a sense of safety and belonging.”

For many Mexicans and other Latin Americans, these significant religious and cultural celebrations have taken on added importance this year within U.S. Latino communities. This is particularly poignant as immigration enforcement raids, notably in Minnesota, have intensified under the Trump administration.

Despite concerns that fears of deportation might dampen public festivities, people turned out in large numbers, both in major cities and smaller towns. They embraced the rituals as vital sources of resilience and community pride.

“We chose not to back down,” stated Justin Ek, a co-founder of the Day of the Dead festival in Mankato, a city nestled in Minnesota’s farmland. “These cultural celebrations nourish our souls and prepare us for the challenges ahead.”

The family of this Indigenous Latino artist began a modest event in their painting business’s parking lot back in 2018. This year, the celebration expanded to draw approximately 12,000 participants, featuring live music and numerous papier-mâché sculptures of Catrinas (ornately dressed skeletons) and whimsical creatures known as alebrijes. The majority of the activities were supported by community contributions.

Grieving, but with happiness: The spiritual side of Day of the Dead

Ek’s father came to the U.S. from Mexico as a preteen, and in the struggle to make a living and eventually build a family, many connections with his homeland and relatives there disappeared, Ek said.

Day of the Dead festivities became a way to grieve that and rekindle some ties, he added, in addition to commemorating more recent family deaths.

“It’s our way to honor what we lost,” Ek said.

The holiday’s balance of joyful remembrance and a renewed sense of presence distinguishes it from both the outright party atmosphere of Halloween and the somber memorials of the Christian holy days of All Saints on Nov. 1 and All Souls’ Day on Nov. 2.

In fact, Day of the Dead evolved over centuries from Indigenous practices across the Americas, and only settled on these fall dates after Catholicism was introduced, said Cary Cordova, a University of Texas professor.

Different regions mark it with unique details, but the crucial element is paying homage to the dead with “ofrendas,” festive offerings of food, drinks, music and pastimes favorite by the dead. Their souls, many believe, return for a visit, guided by the candles and marigold flowers that mark the path to the ofrendas.

Whether in his Mexican childhood or today in Mankato, Luis Alberto Orozco said the key is to commemorate by “having fun as they would be” — with the departed’s favorite snacks and songs.

“It’s remembering people who passed on positively because they would want us to remember them happy … and making ourselves feel they’re with us,” Orozco said.

Joyful and prideful commemorations defy fears of immigration enforcement

As the emcee of this year’s celebration, Orozco reflected on tense conversations in recent months about whether the event in Mankato might draw immigration enforcement raids, especially as rumors spread on social media.

“We decided we were not going to be afraid. It was important for us to keep our faith,” he said. “Once I got to the event and saw all the people smile, all the fears went away.”

The recent crackdown on illegal immigration in Chicago has generated controversy and stirred fears across that city.

Lisa Noce, some of whose ancestors immigrated from Mexico to Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood where she grew up, worried people would stay away from a Day of the Dead installation she helped create by the National Museum of Mexican Art there. But a big crowd came.

“I’m very thankful that it turned out that way,” she said, adding that she also sets up a smaller ofrenda in her kitchen with candy, Barbie dolls, and smiling photos of deceased family members.

‘Ofrendas’ range from family shrines to political statements

For more than a century, Day of the Dead artistic representations have also moved from the family to the public sphere.

Starting in Mexico and later through the Chicano rights movement in the United States, ofrendas have also become a form of protest covering often marginalized victims, said Luis Fitch, a Minneapolis artist who has created Day of the Dead images for retail giant Target and the U.S. Postal Service.

In Los Angeles, site of some of the strongest enforcement actions, a group advocating for detained migrants planned for Sunday a prayer with Buddhist, Jewish and Protestant Christian rituals as well as altars commemorating those who died in detention, said the Rev. Jennifer Gutierrez, one of the organizers.

“There’s pretty high anxiety,” said Gutierrez, a United Methodist minister. “But also an atmosphere of coming together to help each other.”

Back at El Colegio High School, the half dozen altars with flickering candles, decorated candy skulls and a profusion of paper flowers commemorated local and global losses.

There were pictures of the children killed at a school Mass just 3 miles (5 kilometers) away, but also those who died crossing the U.S-Mexican border as well as victims of the terror attacks on 9/11, the war in Gaza and violence against Indigenous women.

“We try to keep our sources of spiritual strength always nourished,” said Susana De Leon, one of the traditional Aztec dancers who got the commemoration started at El Colegio. “When the community sees us dancing, they feel strengthened. They feel the love.”

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