From the City to the Suburbs, First-Time Protesters Are Showing Up

But for Procida, it wasn’t just about calling out federal policy. He wanted the community to understand that this protest was deeply rooted in love for Whittier itself. He urged protesters to support local businesses along the route and to make clear that this wasn’t performative rage—it was necessity. “People wouldn’t be out here if it wasn’t this important,” he said.

Latinos make up the majority in Los Angeles County. Whittier’s own Latino population is highly concentrated in District One, making up over 80 percent of the community there. The same district has become the center of recent ICE activity: 10 people were taken from a Home Depot parking lot, according to ABC News. Over 700 participated in a peaceful “ICE Out of Whittier Rally” on Monday evening, and more than 400 packed the City Council meeting on Tuesday. A recent protest drew crowds to where ICE was staying at the Double Tree in Whittier. In response, the Whittier City Council released a statement stating, “We are not housing any ICE detainees, and we are not working with any federal immigration agencies.”

“We need representatives in our city to come out and protect our communities. They are complicit and complacent with what’s going on,” Moe said. She described parents too afraid to leave their homes—some even arranging for volunteers to pick up their children from local elementary schools, fearing arrest or surveillance at school graduations.

Marchers from neighboring cities like Downey and East LA flooded in to support them at the protest. Evelyn Perada, 31, the daughter of Salvadoran immigrants, arrived with a boombox, hand-painted posters, and a microphone. “And my voice—it’s holding on by a thread,” she said with a raspy laugh. “But we’re here.” She’d had a late night protesting ICE officials staying at the Embassy Suites in Downey, texting friends who’d been protesting in downtown LA since 8:30 am.

For many community members, young and old alike, this was their first protest. Ivan Flores, 23, is a Mexican American who came with a big group of friends, seeing “familiar faces everywhere.” His reason for coming out: family. Many young people protesting said they were here on behalf of family members who couldn’t come.

His parents were uneasy—right-wing media showed chaos; left-wing outlets showed calm. Flores wanted to see for himself. “There’s so much propaganda saying protests are chaotic and violent. But this? This is peaceful. There’s not even law enforcement here. That says something.” Julian, 22, joined the protest fresh off his service in the Marine Corps. He grew up in Whittier, playing baseball in a local community college before enlisting. “I’ve got friends here and in East LA that are undocumented,” he said. “This was the first time something felt really close to home. The least I can do is be a voice for those who don’t have one.”

Lee Willard, 89, marched in a neon vest, with a handwritten, double-sided lawn sign wired to a bucket hat on his head. This is the second time in his entire life that Willard has attended a street protest; the first being on April 5 for the Hands Off rally in Pasadena. “I’m a life-long Republican,” Willard said, “But none of our Democrat council members are even out here.”

In a moment when so many protests blur into drone footage of crowded city centers and flaming Waymos, Whittier, California, stood out precisely because it isn’t one of those places. Like so many protests across the nation this Saturday, it was orderly, small, determined—and rooted in community. Festive music, signs decorated with boba emojis, Dodger jerseys in every direction. Pickup trucks rolled slowly alongside marchers, while volunteers passed out drinks and snacks.

Decked out in a Dodgers jersey and hot pink acrylic nails, Perada led chants in front of Whittier’s city hall until her voice cracked. “This is what my parents came here for. My sisters and I, we’re all college graduates. This is the American dream. It’s about showing up for each other.”

—Rani Chor, Stanford University

It isn’t uncommon to find people with varying sartorial sense strolling through the fashion district in Los Angeles. But when Sandra saw people in FBI and DEI jackets down the street, she knew something was off. Sandra, who chose to disclose only her first name, is the operations manager of Oh Yes! Accessories, a boutique located in the Fashion District of Los Angeles. Her store is just down the street from Ambiance Apparel, one of the stores ICE Officers raided last Friday.

“When I saw it I just couldn’t believe it,” Sandra said. “44 years and I never thought I would see this in Los Angeles.” Sandra said two weeks prior to the ICE raid, she noticed FBI agents enter Ambiance Apparel and exit with boxes. Last Friday, around 9 am, the FBI agents were back, along with DEA officers, she said. Once they left, Ambiance Apparel closed their doors. Minutes later, Homeland Security vehicles appeared and closed off a section of Stanford Street.

“Homeland Security arrived, and they were banging on their [Ambiance Apparel’s] doors,” Sandra said. Linda, who also chose to disclose only her first name, is the daughter of the owners of Escamex, a Mexican grocery store right next to Ambiance Apparel. She described a similar scene, noting that FBI cars had filled the street in front of her store.

Around 2 pm, Sandra said she heard a loud blast and saw tear gas smoke surrounding the blocked off area. Then, she said she saw employees coming out of the store, crying, as ICE officers placed them in handcuffs. She added that she felt that the police prioritized getting people into handcuffs and into vehicles rather than making sure that people were doing well.

“It’s scary, the lack of due process—the complete disregard of law and order,” she said. Linda also shared how she saw familiar faces get handcuffed and taken away, and said there is little information about where those people are as of now. “There was a girl,” Linda said. “She was waiting for her dad and she was crying.”

Sergio Cobos, owner of El Guerdo’s food truck, has been grilling burgers for customers on Stanford Avenue for as long as he can remember. He said he felt uncertainty and stress upon seeing photos and videos of military looking trucks down the street from his business. “After being here for almost 20 years, it hurts, it hurts a lot,” Cobos said. “Especially as a business owner, because this is how we live. This is our day to day, and how we pay our bills. Right now, after that, it dies. You don’t see that much traffic going on.”

Cobos described how, on the Monday following the raid, rumors spread that ICE was coming again, and described the palpable fear felt by many. “Everyone started getting out of the stores,” he said. “You can feel how everyone was feeling scared. A lot of stores closed and a lot of employees ran away.”

The once bustling streets of the Fashion District looked chillingly quiet this week, and all three owners reflected on their loss in business after recent events. “It is really empty,” Linda said. “For the past two days we’ve closed at 2 o’clock. Everyone is scared to come out. I don’t want to put the employees in danger, so I tell them to go home too.”

Sandra said that many of her clients have told her that LA doesn’t feel safe anymore, and said she felt let down by politicians, adding that she hopes more viable pathways for gaining legal citizenship are established. “I don’t want to know what that feels like, being scared to even show up to your job,” Sandra said. “I just hope that our politicians, the Democrats and the Independents, start working hard, because it seems like they haven’t been.”

In light of ICE raids, a flurry of protests have taken place throughout Los Angeles county, upon which President Trump deployed the National Guard. A curfew is also still in effect in downtown areas of Los Angeles. But despite the unrest, the community has come together. In the days following the raid, Cobos set up events focused on educating immigrants about their rights, also providing information about mental health resources. “This is mainly my food truck business, but right now I’m using it as a platform to provide information to the community,” he said. “If I could use my platform to do something greater than just just selling food, I will do that.”

—Zoya Alam, University of California, Los Angeles