In L.A., some of those most connected to anti-immigration raids are on the protest sidelines

CBC

13 hours ago

The march was inescapable along one of the oldest streets in downtown Los Angeles on Saturday. Tens of thousands of people chanted over each other, laid on air horns and sang along with live bands performing from flatbed trucks rolling down the middle of the road.
As the crowd moved, people passed business after business that was closed for the day in case the peaceful "No Kings" protest against the Trump administration got out of hand. Most storefronts were boarded up with plywood.
But between 3rd and 4th streets, one tiny restaurant had its glass door propped wide open, offering a silent escape from the 28 C heat. Inside, the owner went about his routine alone, in silence, behind the front counter.
"We're just here to support people. You know, let them use the restroom, cool down, take a break," said Eduardo Vasquez, 39, the third-generation owner of the Casa India. "That's the least we can do for the community out here that's marching and having their voice heard."
Countless protesters were front and centre outside Los Angeles city hall or other federal buildings during the demonstration, taunting stone-faced military troops and police officers stationed on the steps.
But some of those with the deepest understanding of immigration raids hung far back from the tension and the cameras, showing solidarity with their community just by quietly showing up.
Many of those demonstrating downtown on Saturday had signs or shirts identifying themselves as first-, second- or third-generation immigrants showing support for their friends, neighbours and family members.
Victoria Santibanez, 30, whose mother immigrated to the U.S. from Chile, stood quietly at the back edge of one crowd with her husband and a few close friends.
"It's just hard to see our community in so much pain right now," she said, growing emotional. "To see our neighbours, our local businesses, our schools come under threat the way they have and to have it done in such a way that was so traumatic for the community.... Whatever your reason for being here in L.A., when you're part of the community, the community protects you."
L.A.'s immigrant roots are central to the city's identity, shaping its economy and culture over decades. More than one-third of its residents were born outside the United States, according to the U.S. Census.
Those who are undocumented stay well away from demonstrations because they are hiding from authorities, not seeking them out.
Advocates and state officials have criticized the arbitrary nature of the recent U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids, which have seen people picked up from homes and car washes to hardware stores and church sidewalks.
"Everybody knows somebody because that's how tight we are, and you feel that," said Rev. Gabriel Lopez, 42, whose church community in nearby Whittier, a city in Los Angeles County, was hit by ICE raids this week. "We're being cautious and careful, but we're being there for each other and protecting out community."
Inside Casa India, Vasquez's mother, Doris, prepped the dough for pupusa — a savoury Salvadoran dish stuffed with beans, cheese and pork — the same way she does every day. Her mother, Vasquez's grandmother, was an undocumented immigrant when she opened the Mexican-Salvadoran fusion restaurant 35 years ago. It's become a community hub for fellow business owners from other neighourhoods, like Koreatown, Little Tokyo and Chinatown.
"Deportation has always been a part of L.A. County and California ... but to this extreme level, we've never seen anything like it. People have been afraid, but never to this point where it's afraid to walk the streets," Vasquez said.
"Everybody gets along. Everybody works. People from all walks of life. Nobody really messes with nobody and it shows you that a melting pot can work," said Vasquez, who is Salvadoran and Italian American.