Children at Ellis Island (ca. 1915–20) | Bain News Service / Library of Congress
Although New York can be a violent, unequal, and segregated city, radical acts of solidarity through mutual aid groups shape the experiences of those who live there and strive to transform it into a more livable place—especially for new arrivals. In the winter of 2023, just as the migrant shelter at Floyd Bennett Field opened its doors, a mutual aid group of parents from the Bed-Stuy neighborhood in Brooklyn came together to support families facing their first New York City winter. These families arrived from the southern US border with little more than the clothes on their backs—most of it lightweight clothing, meant for warmer climates. What was coming for them was nothing they had experienced before: biting winds, snowstorms, and temperatures plunging well below freezing.
The shelter at Floyd Bennett Field (FBF) is just one of the 216 official sites offering essential services for newly arrived families. A makeshift facility, it houses approximately 2,000 people—most of them families with children from South America—who now call this isolated corner of South Brooklyn home. Unlike many shelters located within the city, FBF sits over an hour from Manhattan and more than four miles from the nearest subway station. The only lifeline connecting residents to the rest of the city is a bus route, which takes 20 to 30 minutes just to reach the subway. But even before boarding the bus, families must walk 10 to 15 minutes from their tents to the stop—a trek made grueling by fierce winds and freezing temperatures during the winter, and scorching heat waves in the summer.
I joined the Bed-Stuy parents’ group when I became a mom, almost two years ago. In January 2024, I became active in the FBF collective subgroup by answering a call for volunteers to help sort clothing in the basement of a member’s building. When the first campaigns launched to collect winter clothes and other essentials, the neighborhood responded with overwhelming generosity. A few local businesses offered to serve as drop-off locations, and the basement was quickly filled with winter jackets, sweaters, pants, blankets, toiletries, diapers, toys, and more, all waiting to be delivered to Floyd Bennett Field.
In New York City, where cramped apartments leave little room for extra belongings, storage is constantly a challenge. This basement was always a temporary option and had to be cleared by the end of the week to make space for another group that would reconvene there. About 12 people came to help the sorting day—most of us mothers, some with toddlers running around and others keeping an eye on baby monitors as their children napped nearby. We neatly sorted everything by item and category—men’s jackets, women’s sweaters, girls’ winter clothes, women’s shoes—and packed them into labeled bags. I filled my car with the items we thought would be most useful for families at FBF, planning to make my first ride in the next couple of days. The rest of the bags were distributed to other members’ apartments to await future trips; the amount of stock we needed to track in each house was measured by carloads.
Well-established organizations and nonprofits with a long history of supporting migrant communities in the city have leveraged their experience and political influence to negotiate for more resources and advocate for better conditions for newly arrived families. Nonetheless, during our first drives to FBF, our group gathered crucial information about unmet needs not covered by official aid. Beyond the regular need for clothing and shoes, items like suitcases were in high demand, giving families a way to store the belongings they had begun to accumulate. In these cases, alliances with other mutual aid groups or local nonprofits, such as Big Reuse, were crucial. They would notify us whenever suitcases became available, and one of our members would pick them up and deliver them to FBF.
Families also frequently requested air mattresses to replace the cots they were assigned to sleep on, often complaining of back pain. In many instances, we used cash to purchase air mattresses or cover other emergencies. One time, a mother of two girls called me from a hospital, asking for food for her children, who had fallen ill from the food provided at the shelter. While the hospital stay and medication were provided for, as children are entitled to healthcare, we used cash donations to buy soup, fruit, and other nourishing food to help the girls recover.
Mutual aid initiatives are diverse and heterogeneous. Many of those formed to address the unique needs of the COVID-19 pandemic have since been reactivated and reconfigured to assist new arrivals. Community refrigerators across various neighborhoods remain stocked with free food for those in need, while other groups prepare meals, organize fundraisers, and collect donations to support newcomers. Mutual aid collectives, like the one I participate in, are organic groups driven by shared values of solidarity, hospitality, and communal wellbeing, with each member contributing according to their time and resources. One of my strengths was speaking Spanish, which allowed me to communicate directly with families and serve as a translator whenever needed. My colleagues, in turn, tapped into their networks, organizing skills, and resources to raise funds and mobilize our community against anti-immigrant rhetoric and xenophobic demonstrations. Together, we balanced our responsibilities as parents with a shared commitment to solidarity, working to make this place more livable for everyone.
The same group of parents organizing support for migrant families also mobilize around many other diverse social justice issues—cleaning playgrounds in the neighborhood, organizing a back-to-school drive for immigrant children, supporting progressive Democratic candidates for local offices. I’ve noticed how these parents are acutely aware of their position of privilege, and the power associated with it, and how they strive to use it to create a more just and livable society. Outraged by Trump’s remarks about the “invasion of immigrants” leading to the loss of Black jobs in June, these parents were inspired to organize a back-to-school drive for migrant children. In that same vein, the group is leading campaigns to denounce the ongoing genocide in Palestine and demand a ceasefire. Now that I’m one myself, I recognize what motivates other parents to take action: they see their own children reflected in those of particularly vulnerable families.
