In Los Angeles, it’s not uncommon to hear the buzzing of a police helicopter overhead. The sound is almost background noise in this city. A reminder that somewhere, something is happening, something you aren’t a part of. It’s out there, but it’s not right here. But more and more, that sound has begun to jolt us out of our complacency. In the last five years, that sound has heralded the uprising over the killing of George Floyd and the devastation of the Eaton and Palisades fires. Instead of the usual – a high-speed police chase, a burglary or some other fodder for local news sensationalism – that sound means you are living on the doorstep of history once again. This last weekend reminds us that our city is under siege from a federal government eager for a fight. That our immigrant neighbors are being disappeared, apparently without due process.
I’ve gotten texts from family and friends asking if I’m OK as this all transpires. Most people outside LA don’t realize just how big this place is. That in these moments, it can feel like the events are happening in another world. You might see someone pouring a water bottle over their head on the sidewalk, trying their best to mitigate the damage caused by teargas. Google Maps shows you the 101 freeway is closed – a bright red line through your morning commute. Co-workers offer uneasy glances. After all, you have to go to work. You have to keep going. You can’t stop for one second to truly reflect on what you’re witnessing, or you might get washed away by the crushing demands of even the simplest life.
