Across the United States on May 1, working people stood together for fair wages, respect, an end to the assault on immigrants, and more. May Day, with its radical roots in labor resistance and global solidarity, demands a reimagining through the lenses of queer of color critique and Black queer theology. In the current U.S. landscape—marked by anti-trans legislation, attacks on reproductive justice, and the criminalization of protest—May Day becomes more than a celebration of workers. Honoring those whose labor, survival, and resistance are continuously erased becomes a sacred call.
Queer of color critique teaches us that capitalism is inextricably bound to white supremacy, heteropatriarchy, and colonialism. The labor of Black, brown, queer, trans, and undocumented bodies sustains systems that simultaneously discard them. This critique rejects single-issue activism and insists on intersectional solidarity—one that sees the immigrant farmworker, the Black trans organizer, and the disabled queer barista as co-strugglers in a shared fight against systemic abandonment.
Black queer theology deepens this vision, asserting that the divine is present in the margins—in the drag performance, the mutual aid network, and the protest line. It proclaims that God is not neutral in the face of exploitation but is actively aligned with the oppressed. In this framing, May Day becomes a liturgy of resistance, a sacred ritual where the Spirit moves through chants, raised fists, and demands for abolition and liberation.
As lawmakers continue to legislate queer and trans lives out of existence, and as capital exploits our labor while denying our humanity, May Day calls us to remember: our survival is resistance. Our joy is the protest. Our solidarity is holy. Through the twin lenses of queer of color critique and Black queer theology, May Day is not only about labor—it is about liberation, about building a world where everybody is sacred, and no one is disposable.
A Prayer for May Day: In the Spirit of Black Queer Liberation
Holy One who dwells in protest and praise,
God of the picket line, the back-alley clinic, and the ballroom,
We call on You today!
Not as an abstract power but as a breath that moves through broken systems and bold resistance.
We remember the ancestors—
The Black femmes who cooked for strikes and carried signs.
The queer organizers who marched when no one else would.
The undocumented laborers whose hands feed a nation that denies their worth.
Bless their memory. Strengthen our witness.
On this May Day, we name the violence of unchecked greed,
Of prisons built on stolen land,
Of laws that try to erase our trans and queer siblings.
But we also name the miracles—
Chosen families, underground networks, sanctuaries carved from nothing but love.
May our work be worship.
May our organizing be an altar.
May our rage be righteous and our joy be revolutionary.
Anoint the weary with rest, the silenced with song, the exiled with home.
Spirit of Ella, Marsha, James, and Bayard—
Be near us. Guide us. Dance with us.
Until every worker is free,
Every child is safe,
And everybody is known as holy.
Amen. Ashé. And so, it is.
— Terence Mayo, Coordinator of the CLGS African American Roundtable