‘We belong here’: Hundreds march across California for immigrant rights

VACAVILLE, Calif. — More than 100 people gathered in a circle in the shade of Andrews Park. They were Christian faith leaders, Native American elders, toddlers, activists with decades of experience and first-time protesters, all bound by the same goal: to walk almost 40 miles in three days to advocate for immigrant rights.

The group stretched their limbs and adjusted backpacks while organizers led a safety briefing. Faith leaders offered a blessing for protection and strength. As the group stepped onto the quiet streets of Vacaville, a chorus of voices rose in unison: “Sí se puede!”

This marked the beginning of the third annual “Three-Day Walk for Immigrant Rights,” organized by the Northern California Coalition for Just Immigration Reform.

Held in June, as angry protests erupted in Los Angeles and other cities over President Donald Trump’s immigration policies, the march carried a quieter message: “We Belong Here – Citizenship For All!”

For Renee Saucedo, an organizer with the coalition, this year’s march carried special significance. As walkers made their way from Vacaville to Sacramento, they advocated for a fair path to citizenship, an end to deportations and the removal of Trump from office.

Trekking through rural farmland, marchers played music from portable speakers, danced on the side of the road and sang in Spanish – treating every step as a celebration of community, culture and resistance.

“The fact that we have 200 walkers each day walking for three days in a row in the heat, I think it shows the commitment that people have and the level of willingness to sacrifice in order to end the repression,” Saucedo said. “And this movement is only going to continue to grow.”

The event was inspired by activism of the past and crusaders such as Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta, co-founders of the National Farm Workers Association, which later became the United Farm Workers labor union.

In 1966, after a six-month grape harvest strike, Chavez led a 280-mile march from Delano to Sacramento, demanding safer working conditions, better pay and recognition of the farmworkers’ union.

Years later, when told their efforts wouldn’t succeed, Huerta responded with three simple words: “Sí se puede.” The phrase, meaning “Yes, we can,” became the rallying cry of the movement.

This year’s caminata – a Spanish word describing a long, hard journey – echoed that legacy. Among the walkers was Manuel De Paz, a 58-year-old immigration advocate from the San Francisco Bay Area and a former Temporary Protected Status recipient. This was his third such walk.

“This is the true social justice, because we are not fighting for people who have power; we are fighting for the weaker, for the ones who don’t have a voice,” De Paz said.

On the first day of the march, Trump authorized the deployment of 2,000 National Guard troops to Los Angeles, where demonstrators were met with tear gas and police barricades. But the walkers up north were welcomed.

One family, after seeing news coverage of the march and realizing it would pass by their home, hand-painted signs in both Spanish and English and set up a roadside lemonade stand. Their young daughter high-fived everyone as they passed.

“This was such an inclusive, family-friendly action,” said walker Danny Celaya, 25, a community organizer and Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals recipient who lives in Oakland. “That’s ultimately what the movement is: families and workers sticking together, saying that we demand better.”

The march drew grassroots organizers from Santa Clara County to Humboldt. When walkers arrived at the state Capitol, they were joined by hundreds more and greeted with messages of solidarity.

“This caminata, this walk, wasn’t just a journey across miles,” state Assemblyman Mark González, a Democrat whose district includes downtown Los Angeles, told the crowd. “You carry the stories of millions. You carry the pain of separation, the fear of detention, the ache of uncertainty – but also the power of resilience, of unity and of a people who refuse to be broken.”

Feet aching but spirits high, the group continued to dance, sing and cheer. Their chant echoed in the streets of Sacramento – a call carried across decades, now renewed in urgency: “Sí se puede!”