The city of Los Angeles, along with the county that shares its name, spans 4,060 square miles and is home to more than 9.6 million people, over 1,500 schools, and no racial majority. Los Angeles County’s population is larger than that of 40 U.S. states. To say that Los Angeles is vast and diverse barely scratches the surface.
From the beauty of the Rose Bowl and Pasadena’s Huntington Gardens to the enchanting flavors of Eastern cuisine in Alhambra, to East LA, where generations of white, black, Latino, and Asian families have lived since the turn of the 20th century, and westward to the Los Angeles Coliseum, which hosted the 1932, 1984, and soon-to-be 2028 Olympics. Travel along Santa Monica Boulevard into Hollywood, where you can snap a photo with a street performer dressed as Mario or see the last residence of American novelist F. Scott Fitzgerald. Venture farther west into Santa Monica, where the only alarm clock is the call of a good swell, and evenings fade into breathtaking sunsets along the horizon. And that’s just scratching the surface.
Ask any Angeleno how often they leave their neighborhood in East LA to stroll through the Huntington Library’s gardens, or trade PCH for the 10 Freeway to sample the incredible foods of the Arts District, Silver Lake, or Arcadia, and they’ll likely respond, “Not that often.” Unlike New York, where a unified identity connects all boroughs, Los Angeles feels too sprawling to encapsulate a singular identity. Subcultures have always taken precedence—or so I thought.
As we all know, on the afternoon of January 7th, a fire broke out in the mountains surrounding the Pacific Palisades. Leading up to this, nearly every Angeleno received cell phone alerts warning of a severe wind event that week, urging hyper-vigilance due to the risks. It didn’t take long for the fire to consume thousands of acres and homes. While my wife and I, like millions of others, watched these events unfold on television, we saw another fire break out in Altadena, just north of Pasadena. The camera captured elderly men and women being evacuated in hospital gowns from a skilled nursing center. At that moment, I realized that our great city was being pushed to its absolute brink. High winds, no air support, limited water and power access for firefighters, and eight months of no rain—every variable was stacked against us.
As I write this, the Eaton Fire in Altadena has burned over 14,000 acres, destroyed more than 9,000 structures, killed 17 people, with 24 still missing. The Palisades Fire has burned nearly 24,000 acres, destroyed over 6,500 structures, killed 11 people, with 7 still missing. Our city is in mourning. Everyone you talk to knows someone who has lost a home, a pet, or the last tangible reminder of a cherished memory. Even the lucky few whose homes survived are torn between survivor’s guilt and wondering what they are returning to.
This brings me back to my question: What does it mean to be from Los Angeles? Beneath the glittering surface of Tinseltown and sun-kissed streets lies the true identity of Los Angeles—a place defined by love for community, culture, and shared experiences. What makes us different is precisely what makes Los Angeles, Los Angeles. Look no further than Dodger Stadium on a warm August afternoon: a melting pot of races, ages, and socioeconomic backgrounds united in one place, wearing one color, and supporting one cause.
The events of this past month have reinforced what it means to be an Angeleno. Thousands of our neighbors, regardless of income, race, or religion, have lost their homes. Little boys and girls are sleeping far from the only beds they’ve ever known. Elderly Angelenos, who have raised children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, have lost every physical reminder of the lives they built. And how have the people of Los Angeles responded? They showed up.
From food donation sites in Koreatown to the YMCA in Torrance, where my wife and I volunteered, the generosity has been staggering. Donations—canned goods, blankets, baby supplies—pile to the ceiling. Help groups and educational seminars for the displaced have been organized for in-person and online attendance. The support seems endless.
To say I’ve been impressed by the city I’ve called home since my undergraduate days at USC is an understatement. While we may not drive from Santa Monica to hike the Arroyo Seco in Pasadena every weekend or leave Venice Beach to see a movie at the TCL Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, we will pack our cars with supplies or spend a Tuesday running a kids camp while schools are closed if it means helping our fellow Angelenos in need.
The pain caused by these disasters is far from over, and for many, it will linger for years. But as a member of this community, I know we will continue to do everything we can to support one another long after the national spotlight fades. That is what we believe it means to be from Los Angeles.
