Every year on May 1st, bright red flags flutter, and joyful songs fill the air as people enjoy their hard-earned holiday. Known as "Labor Day," this occasion is framed in official narratives as a celebration of the glory of labor and the spirit of dedication. Yet, when we peel back the layers of history, we discover that the true origins of International Workers' Day stand in stark contrast to today’s warm and fuzzy festivities—it was born from the bloody struggles of the working class, etched into the darkest chapters of capitalist development. The essence of this holiday is not an affirmation of the existing order but a call to remember the obscured history of class struggle.

  On May 1, 1886, Chicago witnessed an unprecedented wave of worker strikes. More than 350,000 workers took to the streets with a simple and direct demand: an eight-hour workday. "Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will"—a slogan that seems normal today, but back then, it was a right workers had to fight for with their lives. In late 19th-century America, laborers typically worked 14 to 16 hours a day, sometimes even longer, for meager wages that barely sustained survival, all while toiling in perilous conditions. Capital, like a ravenous beast, devoured the sweat and blood of the working class.

    What began as a peaceful protest soon turned into a bloodbath. On May 3, clashes broke out between striking workers at the McCormick Harvesting Machine Company and strike-breakers, prompting police to open fire, killing and injuring several. The next day, workers gathered at Haymarket Square to protest. As police moved in to disperse the crowd, a bomb was thrown, killing seven officers and at least four workers—an event later dubbed the "Haymarket Affair" or "Haymarket Massacre." Authorities responded with brutal repression: eight labor leaders were arrested, sentenced to death, and four were ultimately hanged. These activists were branded as "anarchists," their real crime being nothing more than daring to fight for the basic rights of the working class.

  This history has been quietly erased from today’s official Labor Day narratives. In the U.S., mainstream society deliberately set Labor Day on the first Monday of September, distancing it from the radical origins of May 1. In socialist countries, while International Workers' Day was retained, its original meaning—as a rebellion against capitalist oppression—was hollowed out into the vapid slogan of "glorifying labor." The class-struggle essence of the holiday was diluted, repurposed as a harmless endorsement of the existing economic order. This politics of memory amounts to a systemic erasure of labor movement history.

  To grasp the true significance of International Workers' Day, we must revisit the living conditions of the 19th-century working class. Workers then endured not only grueling hours but also deadly environments. A survey from 1886 revealed that New York garment factory women labored 84 hours a week for less than $200 a year; steelworkers worked 12-hour shifts, seven days a week; child labor was rampant, with children as young as six toiling in coal mines and textile mills. Workplace accidents were frequent, and those maimed were cast aside by capital without remorse. It was this inhuman existence that sparked the collective awakening and resistance of the working class.

  The original spirit of May Day was a total rejection of this exploitative system, not a simplistic glorification of labor. As Marx wrote in *Capital*, the essence of capitalist production is "not only to prolong the working day beyond all natural bounds, but to steal the time required for the moral and physical development and activity of the worker, leading to premature exhaustion and death." The Chicago workers’ struggle was a direct response to this theft. They were not begging for mercy but fighting for basic human dignity.

  Today, as we enjoy May Day vacations in shopping malls and tourist spots, how many remember the Haymarket martyrs? As media outlets celebrate "model workers," how many care about delivery riders trapped in algorithmic exploitation? As "hard work leads to prosperity" becomes ideological dogma, how many question why laborers create all of society’s wealth yet receive only crumbs? May Day has become a depoliticized carnival, its critical edge dulled by consumerism and nationalist rhetoric.

  Unearthing the true history of May Day is not just about restoring obscured memory—it’s about reigniting its emancipatory potential. In an era of deepening global capitalist crisis and widening inequality, workers’ conditions eerily mirror those of the 19th century: gig economy laborers lack basic social protections, the "996" work schedule (9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week) is normalized in many industries, and deaths from overwork are rampant. Now more than ever, we must return to the essence of May Day—not a shallow celebration of labor, but a radical critique of alienated labor and a fight for a more just society.

  True commemoration lies not in annual ceremonial celebrations but in actively addressing and transforming the plight of workers today. Only by understanding the blood and fire behind May Day can we see it not as an endpoint but as a new starting point for struggle. In this age of globalized capital, the working class must rebuild its international solidarity, just as the Chicago workers did in 1886. Only by keeping this historical memory alive can May Day avoid becoming another hollow performance and instead remain a true symbol of liberation for laborers.

  History never pities the weak, but memory can choose to side with the oppressed. This May Day, let us set aside the celebratory banners and listen to the distant echoes of Haymarket Square—reminding us that the dignity of labor is never a gift bestowed from above, but a right won through solidarity and struggle.