While the Eaton Fire ravaged buildings and homes in Altadena, another potentially destructive force was already present within the local Latino community: invisibility.
Nearly 20 percent of the Altadena population identifies as Hispanic, and residents create rituals to celebrate that diversity, particularly around Hispanic Heritage Month in October. But awareness of the cultural uniqueness of Altadena Latinos is a far cry from the large-scale public events and celebrations of Latino culture in Pasadena.
Writer and historian Roberta Martínez notes that Altadena – a city historically overshadowed by Pasadena’s Latino festivities – needs to be heard regarding the individual influences that constitute the area’s specific Latino culture.
“We used to have the Sí Se Puede Essay in Pasadena. We no longer have it, and that vocalizes local stories,” Martínez says as an example. “Our logo for [Pasadena’s annual Latino Heritage Parade & Jamaica] talks about the diversity within latinidad. We have roots in Asia, Africa and all over. It’s a huge topic.”
Concerning the fallout of the Eaton Fire, Martínez reconciles the history and diversity behind these experiences with the healing process.
“We have real diversity within the community, and we need to have that history shared so that people know the experiences both for the people who might be allies and for the community themselves,” says Martinez.
Martínez, who wrote the book “Latinos in Pasadena,” calls out the self-perpetuating ‘invisibility’ plaguing the Altadena Latino community.
“You have people that just recently arrived, and they don’t necessarily know each other,” Martínez shares. “If we don’t know each other, people outside of that community are more likely to not know the diversity, chronology, language, and cultural traditions. It is a huge thing that has been made invisible.”
Despite Altadena’s vibrant Latino history, it struggles to command the same cultural acknowledgment that neighboring cities like Pasadena enjoy.
While Pasadena hosts the Latino Heritage Parade and Jamaica, several community members, including Maria Nieto, feel excluded as they search for solidarity following the fires.
Like many Altadena residents on the evening of January 7th, Nieto nervously watched the noticias on Spanish-language television as evacuation warnings evolved into mandatory evacuation orders.
“I was expecting, honestly, for somebody to come down the hill with loudspeakers telling us to evacuate,” Nieto reflects. The next morning at 7 am, Nieto saw a horrifying video of her house, which had caught fire overnight and was now in ashes.
“It was really painful,” Nieto lamented. “As a mom and as parents, we know that we have to remain strong because we didn’t want the girls to see us cry or see us down.”
“With the Latino community in Altadena, we have a lot of [underrepresented] people, and there is just a little less help and support for them,” Nieto said. “Everybody’s scared to approach other people or the organizations and to ask for help.”
And now with more aggressive federal immigration enforcement and deportations, Nieto views the Latino community as particularly vulnerable due to a lack of institutions tailored to its specific needs. Solidarity for Nieto is key to preserving the community’s cultural unity, and language barriers add further complexity to the situation.
“I really wish that we could have a specific organization to help the Latino community,” Nieto urges. “When I go on social media, I see Black-owned businesses helping our Black community. Our Jewish organizations are helping our Jewish community. The Latino community is more global, which is good. But, I really wish we could have an organization to give out all this information in Spanish, telling us you can recover documentation that you lost. We need some guidance on how to rebuild.”
Nieto’s perspective is similar to that of her neighbors, many of whom are in distress. And part of the reason involves decades of lack of outside acknowledgment of their existence, according to Martínez, who emphasizes that losing Latino history means losing part of humanity.
Nevertheless, hope abounds.
At the Pasadena Job Center, one of the many emergent charity sites, World Central Kitchen (WCK) offers free warm meals and importantly, a sense of togetherness. Beyond the physical aid, on the south-most wall of the job center, muralists Jesse Jaramillo and Josiah Oballes pay homage to the history of day laborers, many of whom belong to the Altadena Latino community.
Jaramillo said healing will be extensive, but the immediate response is hopeful.
“A lot of these day laborers [were] from around the Eaton Fire area and others were from to the west side,” Jaramillo said. “We really wanted to show history happening in front of us in the wake of this tragedy, where the day laborers were the first ones out there getting people food and water.”
This is a community that was hit really hard and is wasting no time in picking back up,” said Jaramillo. “It’s a really inspiring thing to witness. We’re glad to lend a hand.”
