Blanca and her family fled a deadly wildfire in January that devastated their Los Angeles-area neighborhood, destroying the clothing alterations business she had run for six years.
Her rented flat in Altadena survived but was uninhabitable—lacking gas, electricity, and hot water, and contaminated with toxic ash and soot.
Because Blanca is undocumented, she was ineligible for federal aid for her home or business.
Now 48, she came from Mexico more than 20 years ago with one child. After the fire, she and her family lived in temporary housing while fighting with the building manager to repair their damaged flats.
US President Donald Trump ordered a crackdown on undocumented immigrants shortly after taking office in late January. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents swept through Los Angeles, making thousands of arrests in the following months.
Initially, ICE avoided burn zones, but that changed. In June, agents raided a burned property in Altadena, targeting construction workers. Random traffic stops and racial profiling have also been reported throughout the county.
For undocumented residents, the combination of fire devastation and the threat of deportation has been overwhelming.
“It’s too much stress, too many emotions to work through,” Blanca said, wiping away tears. “There wasn’t time to recover from the fire.”
More than 900,000 undocumented residents live in Los Angeles County, according to the non-partisan Migration Policy Institute. The January fires in Altadena and Pacific Palisades destroyed over 16,000 structures and killed at least 30 people.
Undocumented renters, already at higher risk of eviction and exploitation, are often forced into neighborhoods where ICE raids are more frequent, county officials say.
“Displaced tenants were forced to live in neighboring communities where aggressive immigration sweeps … have intensified anxiety and instability for these vulnerable residents,” said Hilda Solis, a member of the county Board of Supervisors.
“As the only Latina on the Board of Supervisors and the daughter of immigrants, these raids strike a deeply personal chord,” she added.
When Blanca returned to her flat in May, it had been stripped of appliances and furniture. The building gates remained broken, leaving the property unprotected. She now carries bear spray to work as a carer, wary of ICE agents on the street who wear masks and show no identification.
“We’re not sure if it’s ICE or a bounty hunter,” she said. “We can’t even go to work comfortably.”
Federal ICE agents arrested more than 2,200 people in the Los Angeles area in June alone, as raids intensified and the Trump administration deployed military units to assist agents and suppress protests.
Neglected renters
Katie Clark, co-founder of the Altadena Tenants Union, said renters in fire zones—regardless of legal status—have been neglected compared to homeowners. Even before the Eaton Fire burned through Altadena, killing 19 people and destroying roughly 9,600 buildings, undocumented renters faced risks of exploitation.
Some landlords and construction workers threatened to report tenants to ICE if they complained about repairs or maintenance.
“For all of our undocumented neighbors, we see them as even more vulnerable than they were before the fires,” Clark said. “Certainly these overlapping crises have only intensified their situations.”
The tenants’ union sued Los Angeles County to compel the public health department to inspect rental properties and force landlords to carry out fire remediation and meet financial obligations.
In response to the fires, the county introduced a six-month moratorium on evictions and a US$32.2 million relief fund for renters and homeowners. Legal status was not part of the eligibility criteria, said a spokesperson for County Supervisor Kathryn Barger.
“Renters who lost their housing or income in this disaster deserve access to every available resource, from financial relief to legal protections. My commitment is to keep fighting for the support they need to rebuild their lives,” Barger said.
Nowhere else to go
Some of Blanca’s neighbors returned to their flats in February, before cleanup, because they had no alternative housing, enduring conditions without heat or windows. They were exposed to dangerous levels of lead and other toxins for months, according to county health data.
Many residents, including Blanca, have avoided medical appointments and other daily activities to reduce the risk of encountering ICE.
“If there’s one thing I valued or respected in this country, it was how safe I felt,” she said.
Immigrant labor
Most burned lots have been cleared and await new homes and businesses. Rebuilding is slow, however, because the construction industry depends heavily on skilled migrant workers—the very population targeted by ICE.
“There’s no way that you can rebuild Altadena without migrant labor, without the undocumented immigrants,” said Pablo Alvarado, co-executive director of the National Day Laborer Organising Network.
In July, the Board of Supervisors approved a motion authored by Solis to create a cash assistance fund for residents affected by immigration raids and to expand support for small businesses. However, details are limited, and the programs’ start dates remain unclear. No state aid has been designated for those impacted by the raids.
