'Sí Se Puede': Tucson mourns civil rights activist Dolores Huerta

For Tucson, Dolores Huerta’s death was felt not as the loss of a distant national figure, but as the passing of someone who had become part of the city’s civic and personal life. Dozens of people gathered Wednesday night at Joaquin Murrieta Park on Tucson’s west side for a vigil honoring Huerta, who died of cancer at age 96. Community members, labor organizers, elected officials and longtime friends shared memories of a leader whose work improved conditions for farmworkers and helped shape the political lives of families across Southern Arizona.

Huerta co founded the United Farm Workers of America and spent decades organizing agricultural workers, immigrants, women and other marginalized communities. Her campaigns used strikes, boycotts and public pressure to win better treatment for farmworkers, including improved access to water breaks, health care and dental benefits. Her influence extended well beyond the fields. Eva Carrillo Dong, co chair of the Tucson based Dolores Huerta Unity Coalition, said Huerta consistently stood with anyone whose voice was being ignored, including workers, immigrants and LGBTQ+ people. Carrillo Dong urged mourners to grieve, then continue the work of pursuing justice and unity.

Huerta’s connection to Arizona is especially important to the history of the movement. In 1972, she was organizing in the state after an Arizona law made it illegal for farmworkers to strike during harvest season and sought to prevent the UFW from operating there. When she was told that organizing and striking could not be done, she answered with the phrase that became her signature rallying cry, “Sí, se puede,” or “Yes, we can.” The words became central to labor and civil rights campaigns and were later echoed by movements across the country.

That history is closely tied to Tucson Mayor Regina Romero’s family. Romero’s parents were immigrant farmworkers who followed seasonal crops between Arizona and California, and she has said UFW organizing helped them secure better working conditions in Somerton. Romero described Huerta as both a mentor and a friend, saying her family’s life was changed by the work Huerta led. Huerta regularly stayed at Romero’s home when she visited Tucson, and the relationship lasted more than 25 years. She also attended the weddings of Romero and her husband, Ruben Reyes, and of Congresswoman Adelita Grijalva.

Reyes, whose parents were UFW organizers, knew Huerta from childhood. He said she frequently stayed with his family and returned to Tucson to organize, eventually becoming a close friend. After learning of her death, Reyes helped bring people together for the vigil because he understood that residents needed a place to honor her. He described Tucson as a city where Huerta felt at home, despite her international reputation and extensive travels. Her most recent visit to Tucson was for the funeral of former Congressman Raul Grijalva, a longtime Southern Arizona advocate for Indigenous sovereignty, environmental protection, immigrants and farmworkers.

Adelita Grijalva recalled her father’s decades long friendship with Huerta, which began during UFW led lettuce and grape boycotts in the 1970s. She said Huerta and her father seemed to share a private understanding whenever they were together, a memory that brought her comfort after both had died. Grijalva and Romero also credited Huerta and other women organizers with breaking barriers that helped make it possible for them to hold elected office. Grijalva said Huerta’s example taught her to speak for people who are not being heard and to continue forward even when the work becomes difficult.

Huerta’s legacy also includes difficult conversations about the movement she helped build. Earlier in 2026, she publicly alleged that fellow civil rights leader César Chávez sexually assaulted her. Chávez helped found the UFW alongside Huerta, and the two became among the most recognized figures in the farmworker movement. Huerta said she continued organizing despite the abuse she described because she wanted to protect other people from neglect and mistreatment. Isabel Garcia, who attended the Tucson vigil, said Huerta’s decision to speak publicly reinforced the importance of women being taken seriously. After the allegations became public, Romero renamed March 31 in Tucson from César Chávez Day to Dolores Huerta Day.

Speakers at the vigil emphasized that Huerta remained politically engaged into her 90s and continued watching Tucson’s political developments. Steven Valencia of Tucson Jobs with Justice said she believed people could create change through sustained organizing and urged residents to carry her spirit into the voting booth. Reyes said Huerta’s daughter called him on the morning of the vigil and repeated the message Huerta had continued to give local organizers: keep going, keep organizing and keep working. Reyes also recalled that Huerta had been looking ahead to the Nov. 3 election, a reminder that she viewed mourning as temporary and civic action as ongoing.

The gathering ended with the movement’s familiar call, “Sí, se puede.” Raul Aguirre, who joined the farmworker movement with Huerta as a teenager in the 1960s, said her influence would endure in Tucson and throughout the country. Huerta’s public honors included becoming the first Latina inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame in 1993 and receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom from former President Barack Obama in 2012. For Tucson mourners, however, her most immediate legacy was personal: a mentor who stayed in their homes, fought for their families and left them with a responsibility to keep organizing after the vigil ended.