I didn’t grow up in Los Angeles, but for the past 23 years, this city has been my home. And right now, I’ve never felt more connected to or prouder of the people who call it home and are showing up for our community.

LA is a community of immigrants from all over the world. We are small business owners, doctors, therapists, teachers, caregivers, and neighbors who show up for each other in both quiet and courageous ways.

This past week, that courage has been tested. ICE raids, militarized and disruptive, have swept through neighborhoods, detaining people without due process, separating families, and creating trauma in real time. These raids are not isolated incidents. They are part of a broader strategy to distract from harmful federal policy shifts and public controversies. But they come at a deep cost to the very fabric of our communities.

As a mental health provider and someone who believes deeply in reproductive justice and community care, I see these moments through a specific lens:

The right to parent, not parent, or strive to parent (or exist) must include the right to do so in safe, stable communities.

When raids break into workplaces and school events, or waits outside of immigration hearings where people have shown up in good faith, safety and trust vanish. Fear replaces freedom. Families are left shaken, children traumatized, and communities destabilized.

Let’s name this clearly: the protests we’re seeing are a response to violence, not the origin of it.

In my work, I witness how systemic disruptions impact mental health, relationships, and family building. Healing becomes harder when people are scared to seek services, show up at school, or attend a child’s celebration.

Now more than ever, we need care over chaos as we work towards larger policy changes. We need to advocate for our neighbors, hold space for grief and anger, and speak out against practices that make it harder for people to live, love, and parent, if they so choose, freely.

And above all, we must continue to honor the humanity in every one of us, regardless of where we come from, how we got here, or what papers we carry.

Community Care looks like:

• Calling your representatives and see where they stand
• Making space for people who are afraid or overwhelmed
• Supporting organizations advocating for immigrant rights
  

If you or a loved one is struggling with the emotional effects of trauma from these raids, learn more about my trauma-informed services, or you can find a list of community resources here. 

This is the heart of the community: we show up. We protect each other. We choose care. We honor humanity.