Written by Isela Gutierrez
I learned about the ICE raids in Los Angeles and the massive resistance growing from Angelenos
at the final panel at the Forward Justice convening in Winston-Salem. It was the conclusion of a beautiful couple days – grounding ourselves in the history of resistance of North Carolina and the Southeast and preparing for what will come next – but my heart sank when I learned that David Huerta, president of California's SEIU, had been arrested at an ICE protest.
It wasn’t until I got home that the scale of both the resistance and the attack on Los Angeles, its large Latine community, and the sovereignty of the state of California would become clear. Seeing the L.A. streets filled with people peacefully protesting for days, I felt so proud and full of joy!
I live in North Carolina now, but always think of California, where I went to college and spent many years of my life, and the Southwest U.S. as my home. I remember as a college student hearing a graduate student who had been an organizer in the Bay Area complain that, “L.A. is hard to organize.” But what I saw during those glorious days of protest was a city that was very organized and strong. An intergenerational, multiracial crowd of L.A. County residents standing up for their neighbors, each other, themselves. A community that was ready to fight back.
And of course, the other thing we all saw was police violence and antagonism toward peaceful protestors, excessive use of so-called non-lethal weapons, as well as just plain disinformation, seized upon by right-wing media to justify the appalling state overreach.
As President Trump federalized and deployed the National Guard against the wishes of California Gov. Gavin Newsome, I felt sick – remembering in 2020 when that same president deployed unmarked federal law enforcement against racial justice protestors over the loud objections of local elected officials. And then came the Marine deployment. Still the peaceful resistance continued! Local activism and protests forced ICE out of the Pasadena hotels where they had been staying and harassing the housekeeping staff. The City of Glendale refused to cooperate with ICE. Governor Newsome sued the U.S. government for illegally federalizing the National Guard and the military. Viva la resistencia!
But as I write this, 24 days after the initial ICE raids began, ICE is still in L.A. Masked, wearing no uniform or unmarked uniforms, providing no identification, and essentially kidnapping brown and Black L.A. residents regardless of citizenship status. Many of those picked up report that they were not properly booked for hours, making it virtually impossible for their family, friends, and even lawyers to locate them. They were simply disappeared into the greater carceral complex of L.A. County, until and unless family comes looking for them. And as I rage against these injustices and shudder with the knowledge that it could easily be me, my sister, my friends, my college classmates and professors picked up and disappeared for the crime of not matching Trump’s and Stephen Miller’s vision of the America they want to create, I remember that these tactics – and this hatred – is not new. It’s not new to immigrant communities in California. And it’s certainly not new to anyone who has had the misfortune of encountering the notorious LAPD and L.A. County Sheriff’s Department, where these use of these same tactics of disappearing, torture, lying, and excessive force against L.A. residents are well-established.
Still, the resistance hasn’t stopped. But it has changed tactics – as all strong, sustained resistance efforts must. Activists and journalists, like Memo Torres at L.A. Taco and the L.A. Public Press, are documenting the kidnappings of their community members and teaching community members their rights when ICE comes knocking. So too, our solidarity and attention must not stop. We must also continue lifting up the stories of L.A. and the individuals being taken from our streets. And know that, even within the terror being visited upon Latine communities, solidarity is being built between communities. One of the most inspiring stories of that solidarity can be seein the experience of Isaias Pena Salcedo, an aspiring Marine from Bell, CA, who was kidnapped off the street by ICE and detained for 70 hours without any contact with family or attorneys. His experience was deeply harrowing, but he told the L.A. Public Press that “the support and kindness of those who were convicted and serving time in the facility is what gave him hope that he might be released and that everything would be OK.” The beautiful truth about solidarity is that it can and will grow out of the darkest moments and that it can and will be what save us and brings a new nation – one that proudly embraces its diversity and cares for all communities and the natural world – into existence. The words of Arundhati Roy never felt truer to me – “A new world is not only possible. She is on her way.” Through us.