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CommentaryNewsU.S.

Recounting the Flames: A Year Since the Los Angeles County Wildfires

by Mariah Yonique Strawder 01/15/2026
written by Mariah Yonique Strawder

On January 7th, 2025, wildfires broke out across Los Angeles County, devastating the Altadena, Pasadena, and Pacific Palisades areas. On social media, I saw “Pray for California” spread rapidly. My timeline was full of videos of people who were evacuating their homes, salvaging what they could, and families sobbing as they watched their homes be engulfed in flames and fall to ashes.

The Palisades Fire in Pacific Palisades started around 10:30 a.m. on January 7th. The Eaton Fire in Altadena began on the same date later in the evening around 6:00 p.m. The Palisades fire covered over 23,448 acres while the Eaton fire covered 14,021 acres. A rough estimate of 100,000 people were forced to evacuate, 16,000 structures were destroyed, the number of lives lost is up to an estimate of 31, and fires were active for about 24 days. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s February 2025 report, the Los Angeles January 2025 wildfires were the result of climate change, a record-level dry fall season in 2024, and Santa Ana winds from a near-hurricane event. With the help of firefighters from around California, Mexico, and Canada as well as incarcerated youth and adults from Los Angeles County jails and prisons, the fires were announced to be contained on January 31st. 

I asked Eloheem Mahone, Altadena Native, 2nd year UCLA Student, and member of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Incorporated, Upsilon Chapter, about his and his family’s experience with the Eaton Fire, and what rebuilding has been like.

“My family’s roots in Altadena go way back,” Mahone says. His father is from Los Angeles and his mother is from Long Beach. His dad moved to Altadena while in high school. Later on, his parents would buy their own home in the area and begin building their family. 

When the Eaton Fires broke out, Mahone was at UCLA, in his dorm, lying in bed, waking up from a nap. “I had missed more calls than I had ever seen before. My phone was flooded with messages from people asking if my house was okay or saying sorry. My heart dropped to my stomach as I read messages from my family members who were in our home as it burned down. My first reaction was to go home. My college friends and I went to Altadena to help fight the fire. We couldn’t lose both of the homes my family grew up in. My next-door neighbor was a retired firefighter and did everything in his power to help our neighborhood. He told us that our house was one of the first in the neighborhood to catch fire, and by the time he had retrieved all his equipment, it was too late.”

When asked about the aftermath of the Eaton Fires, Mahone says: “Rebuilding has been rough. My family currently stays in a trailer in my grandparents’ backyard. I give a lot of credit to my mom, dad, and sister. They spent a lot of time doing research and outreach to survive as our resources were so limited. Then and now, my sister works nonstop trying to find resources for sustainable and affordable living.” Mahone also highlighted the work of his friend and UCLA Alum, Fayola Obasi, who used her sorority, Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Incorporated, Pi Chapter, to start a GoFundMe, raising over $30,000, to support his family. A year later, Mahone says that he is lucky. After putting the tragedy into perspective, he remains grateful for his support system and most importantly, his family still being here. 

In tracking the 2025 LA fire recovery efforts, FEMA has helped about 35,093 people and distributed about $163.4 million in aid. Angelenos have also been vocal in critiquing Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass’s efforts in the Palisades fire recovery. LA Times writes that since the fires the mayor “Bass has been announcing recovery strategies with great fanfare, only for them to get bogged down in the details or abandoned altogether.” This has left many Angelenos feeling unconfident in the Mayor’s leadership.

It is also important to highlight that the Los Angeles fires affected two distinct communities. The Palisades Fires set the Pacific Palisades ablaze, home to business executives and Hollywood movie stars. The Eaton Fires ravaged the east side communities of Pasadena and Sierra Madre, reducing much of the Altadena community to ash. Altadena, a diverse middle-class neighborhood known for being a Black enclave since the 1950s, is home to many Black legends such as athlete Jackie Robinson, writer Octavia E. Butler, actor Sidney Poitier, and activist Seaborn B. Carr. 

In October 2025, I visited California’s African American Museum in Exposition Park. I got to experience Ode to Dena: Black Artistic Legacies of Altadena, an exhibit that traces Altadena’s artistic history in light of the Eaton Fires. This CAAM exhibit is curated by Dominique Clayton, independent curator and founder of Dominique Gallery, in collaboration with Larry Earl, Kenturah Davis, Arianne Edmonds, Dylan Joner, and V. Joy Simmons, MD. The Exhibit highlights the Altadena community over the decades. It features over 20 Black artists who live in or have family ties to the neighborhood. It captures treasured moments like birthday celebrations, moments in the kitchen, and family pool time. While the exhibit stems from pain and loss, it is a beautiful reminder of Los Angeles’s cultural history.

In Harvard Kennedy’s School of Public Policy Student Policy Review on Racial Disparity in Disaster Response in the United States, Matt Plaus writes that “natural disasters strike Americans indiscriminately; unfortunately, relief does not reach them the same way”. From Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, Louisiana (2005), to Flint, Michigan’s decade-long water crisis (which the Environmental Protection Agency’s 2016 emergency order for was lifted in May 2025), and Hurricane Melissa in Jamaica (2025), racial disparities in disaster response have resulted in Black Americans suffering from worse impacts, slower recovery efforts, less aid, and greater health risk. In the aftermath of destruction, Black communities also become increasingly vulnerable to exploitation and displacement. 

As Altadena residents began to recover, A UCLA study done by the UCLA Ralph J. Bunche Center for African American Studies, the UCLA Center for Neighborhood Knowledge and the UCLA Latino Policy and Politics Institute found that “48% of Black households experiencing damage or destruction” faced disporportionate burdens of damage in the aftermath of the Los Angeles fires “compared to 37% for non-Black households”. The study also found that predatory insurance companies targeted families with “57%” of them being Black homeowners from Black Altadena, over the age of 65, and facing barriers to recovery. 

The Los Angeles wildfires were most certainly a chaotic way to start the beginning of 2025. The impacts of the Eaton and Palisades fires were devastating and recovery will take years. Homes, possessions, businesses, families, friends, and pets were lost. The trauma is immeasurable. For Black communities, the loss is one of many. There is still so much work that needs to be done. We as a community must hold our elected officials accountable and continue working together to ensure the victims of the Los Angeles fire regain stability. Going into 2026, let us prioritize electing leaders who are committed to the safety and well-being of Black communities.

01/15/2026 0 comments
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CommentaryHealthLifestyleNewsPolitical EducationU.S.World

Afrikan Agarianism – Subcultures 

by Bahji Steele 03/10/2025
written by Bahji Steele

For over 400 years, our hands tilled the soil, not by choice but forced through our captivity in chains. Promises of reparations crumbled, leaving us landless in a country we built. It’s no wonder that when you hear “Afrikan Amerikkkan” and “farmer” in the same sentence, optimism feels out of reach. This is especially true in hyper-developed cities like Los Angeles, where many of our ancestors fled after emancipation, seeking freedom beyond the fields that once enslaved them. Denied our 40 acres, shut out from land ownership, and systematically displaced, we’ve been pushed further from the idea of cultivating our own ecological balance. But what if we reclaimed it? What if the soil was always ours to begin with? 

Tucked between two weathered apartment buildings, just off the roar of the 91 freeway and Rosecrans, lies Compton Community Garden—a hidden oasis of renewal and resistance. Here, in the heart of a so-called food desert, life blooms. Temu, a Compton native and horticulturist who helped bring CCG to life, poses a powerful question: “Compton has the most ideal weather for organic gardening, yet we’re still considered a food desert? How did we get here? Is this by accident? We have the chance to change the narrative—to restore balance, heal ourselves, feed ourselves, employ ourselves, and build collective wealth.” A garden may seem simple, but in a world designed to keep us disconnected from the land, it’s nothing short of revolutionary. It’s a space to nourish bodies, reclaim community, and cultivate a future rooted in self-sufficiency.

“For our ancestors, farming was not a symbol of oppression, but rather a symbol of resistance and freedom. Every time we plant a seed, we are committing an act of sovereignty.” 

These words from Leah Penniman, author of Farming While Black, reframe farming as a means of liberation. As each seed is planted, so is the possibility of a new reality—one where food justice, sustainability, and collective power take root in Compton and beyond.

03/10/2025 0 comments
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CommentaryHealthNewsPolitical EducationU.S.World

Building Futures in the Midst of Ecological Destruction

by Orisha Lamon 03/10/2025
written by Orisha Lamon

The destruction that ripped through the populous Los Angeles Basin tied with the improper governmental response is nothing but a repeat of unpreparedness for numerous environmental catastrophes that results from the ruling entities’ failure to properly assess the crumbling infrastructure of the LAFD, climate change response, and lack of social services for the needs of the people. The decimation of structures, homes, and memories, in one of the most influential cultural hubs in the world has received a devastatingly inadequate response from the City of Los Angeles that has in turn bolstered community-oriented and mutual-aid-centered engagement holding up the societal infrastructure before its entire demise. As we plunge deeper into a christo-fascist and sensationalist state given the current political representatives, there is a greater need for disciplined community building, protection, and practice. 

Los Angeles is widely discerned as a capitalistic foreground for gentrification and dispossession. This area of over 9 million has cultivated some of the most influential cultural and political communities and stances. The destruction of such space caused by wildfires, mudslides, torrential rain and pressing environmental and state-sponsored destruction creates a clean slate for landowners and private property management firms that prey on the devaluation of Afrikan and marginalized communities. The city’s vision of serving the people throughout the most notable Eaton and Palisades fires was through the mass-deployment of police officers to prevent looting, and preventing folks from being able to see their homes. The historic area of the Afrikan middle class in Altadena may never recover. The homes of folks who have been there since the Great Migration are gone and likely never to be rebuilt due to the lack of state resources. This mass displacement of a majority Afrikan community has prolonged and will greatly influence the confinement and racialized banishment of Afrikan folks in America. As evacuation shelters, like the Pasadena Civic Center, begin to book events such as America’s Got Talent recordings and award shows, not even 2 months after destruction leaves these folks displaced with municipal support dying down. I would like to ask: Where were these health concerns for the ongoing pandemic? For the Afrikan elders? The unhoused? For the poor air quality? For serving the community material resources? Diapers, medications, proper PPE? That was all thrown together by community members impromptu, nonprofit, and political organizations. The criminalization of such movement of essential resources and tools of organization is a threat to the current regime of surveillance in Los Angeles. Mass displacement and resource isolation, similar to the actions taken toward the devastation of Hurricane Katrina and the failed state response, ties into the intentionality behind structural barriers of justice and support. In 2005, Hurricane Katrina hit the South, displacing almost 1 million people with 40% of evacuees from Louisiana unable to return to their homes. Thousands are still recovering from the ecological degradation and trauma associated with loss alongside a lack of social safety nets already foretold the inadequate state response to disasters that impact the most marginalized. With displacement the Afrikan community of the Katrina impacted South faced white vigilantism coupled with lack of health infrastructure, prompting the conservation of a declining Afrikan population. This is not to present comparable figures looking at Katrina and the Los Angeles fires but serves as a call to our conditions. We must adapt and restore using material and tangible changes. Today we stand and ask where are we to go from here, from pessimism to revolutionary optimism, smashing imperialism, to practice, to pedagogy, to discipline, to care, to love. In reflection I ask: What are some starting points we can use to create community organization and begin our struggle toward an Afrikan revolutionary praxis?

03/10/2025 0 comments
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Black HistoryCommentaryCultureNews

God is Change

by Bahji Steele 03/10/2025
written by Bahji Steele

Since the LA fires started, me and I’m sure many other readers of Octavia Butler’s Parable series felt a sense of déjà vu. The neighborhood of Altadena has a rich black history that began after the civil rights movement. Before civil rights, this neighborhood was full of white ranchers and business owners. When Black/Afrikan and brown families began to move in, many white families moved out during the period, a phenomenon commonly known as “white flight”. White families did not welcome diversity in their neighborhood and their departure left opportunities for the diverse Altadena community we see today to bloom and grow. Octavia Butler grew up in Altadena. Her mother worked as a maid in wealthier white homes south of Pasadena proper. Butler received her associate’s degree from Pasadena City College and studied writing, anthropology, geology, and much more at UCLA. This was the same route of schooling my grandmother took when she came to California for college to become a nurse which led my family to settle in Altadena. Butler attended John Muir High School the same as my mother and her brothers and ironically my college roommate, an Altadena native, and his mother and generations of black families like ours. This beautiful neighborhood in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains has always been home to my family. One thing that I always particularly loved about Altadena was seeing a thriving Black/Afrikan community in LA with an abundance of green space, something most black communities in LA aren’t so fortunate to have. Altadena was always a beautiful neighborhood with its overhangs of oak trees, beautiful, lush mountains, an abundance of hiking trails and waterfalls. Altadena was the only place I wanted to dream of settling in when I grew up.

“We had fire today” reads a February 1st, 2025 diary entry in Butler’s Parable of the Sower. In the story, Lauren, a girl from the LA area living in 2024, is forced to live inside a community gated by large walls to protect herself from desperately poor starving people and a band of criminals high on a drug called pyro causing them to have arson addictions. Looking back at this story now is haunting as we enter only a few days into 2025 and the Eaton Fires have leveled the majority of the Altadena homes. The childhood home of Butler, where her grave, minimally burned in the fires. 

Earthseed is the community that Lauren dreamed of, the sanctuary not only physically safe from the harshness of the outside world and the fires but a spiritual space for people. Altadena was my Earthseed, as my grandpa was escaping gang violence in Watts and my grandmother an abusive orphanage in Boston, they both came to settle in Altadena for refuge, similar to the many Altadena residents that found their way escaping the Jim Crow South. This neighborhood was a sanctuary for us and it lives on. These fires have come as a result of long-standing climate injustice and extractive practices of capitalist consumption that do not engage with the Earth in regenerative ways. However, I believe the soul of the community members of Altadena will not so easily be turned to ash.

Etched in the gravestone of Butler reads the famous quote from Parable of the Sower, “All that you touch, you change. All that you change, changes you.” In the pulse of Altadena, Los Angeles, and beyond, the world now breathes the change she foresaw—a change that echoes through the shifting climate, the very manifestation of Butler’s prophecy. Written in 1993, her vision stands, astonishing in its clarity. Renowned for grounding the realms of Afrikan/Black science fiction and Afrofuturism, after the tremors of early 2025, one cannot help but ask: Is this fiction—or the future? She is the living word, embodying NOMMO, and with each story, she wields the griot’s power—the power of the word, the power to shape reality.

03/10/2025 0 comments
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