21 Jul I Went Back to L.A. After the ICE Raids. One of My Favorite Areas Felt Like a Ghost Town

A protester attempts to communicate with a soldier outside the Metropolitan Detention Center, where immigrants are detained, in Los Angeles. (Denis Perez-Bravo / The CC Pulse)

Commentary, Juliana Libunao

When my family took a trip back to Los Angeles in June, like we have every year since moving to the Bay Area, my parents told me to keep my passport on me at all times even though I’m a U.S. citizen. They knew I might be asked to prove it at any time. With the recent immigration raids and protests in the city still fresh on everyone’s minds, they didn’t want to take any risks.  It was clear this trip would be nothing like the ones I look back on so fondly.

Early this year, the government greatly increased Immigration and Customs Enforcement funding and expanded a program that allows state and local law officers to carry out immigration laws during routine police activities. 

This sudden prioritization of immigration enforcement, along with the reversal of many limits ICE operations once had, has come with an influx of raids across the United States. And there seems to be a focus on many cities that pride themselves on the actions they take to protect immigrants, particularly those known as sanctuary cities.

>>>Read: Vigils, Raids and a Deadly Fall: ICE Crackdown Rocks California<<<

Even though Los Angeles only just officially declared itself a sanctuary city in November 2024, the city has always been seen as a safe place for those migrating to the States. At least that’s how my parents viewed it when they left the Philippines for the U.S. 

Living in Los Angeles came with a number of challenges in itself — not just for me but for my parents who were navigating how to raise a child in a new country. I was growing up over 7,000 miles away from the only home my family had ever known. Despite that, I always felt a sense of belonging. 

We were fortunate enough to be a part of a community where hundreds of people were all connected through this one shared experience. It was other immigrants that made the distance between my two homes feel a little closer. They found a way to make a foreign place just a bit more familiar. 

Those same people are now being threatened. 

June 6 marked the beginning of the ICE raids in L.A. These raids are a part of a larger operation enforced by President Donald Trump that set out to be the largest mass deportation program in history. He said they would target undocumented individuals with a focus on those with criminal records. But according to PBS News, “immigrants with legal status or no criminal history are being detained and deported.” And ICE data as of July 17 shows that 47% of people detained have neither been convicted of a crime nor face pending criminal charges.

The Department of Homeland Security has reported that from the start of the operation to June 22, nearly 2,000 immigrants were arrested. I believe a significant percentage were innocent people taken in by ICE agents.

This news wasn’t a secret to any of us. With it having been so heavily reported on, ICE activity hung over all of our heads. There was still an underlying unease in being outside, each of us felt it and it was impossible to ignore. 

It hit me the hardest when we took a drive around L.A’s Fashion District. It was one of many that had been raided in the weeks prior, and the deserted state it was left in was proof of the fear ICE had instilled. It was hard seeing a place that I remembered to be so full of life reduced to something that felt more like a ghost town. 

I overheard my parents talking about just how quiet the area felt — especially compared with the image we had in our heads from our visit the year before. I was sitting in the backseat, watching the two or three people that would walk past, and I couldn’t help but agree. This was a part of downtown L.A. that we’d pass through often whenever we visited, and the people-watching was always my favorite. 

The full streets, crowded shops and typical bustle of people was an image I have committed to memory. The Fashion District that I was looking at was nothing like I remembered it to be. It felt like a foreign place all over again. 

Social media has been my primary source of information when it comes to seeing what the aftermath of an ICE raid looks like in other places, but it’s a completely different experience when you see it for yourself. 

Streets have become abandoned due to many immigrants fearing what may happen if caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. With that, you’re left with the shell of a city that was built on the contributions of immigrants. It feels empty, like something’s missing, as if the place had lost a piece of its soul.