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LISTENING: to the bumps of the bus I'm on
FEELING: tired & grateful
SEEING: talented journalists decompress after a heavy day of reporting in L.A.

When Silvera Grant spoke, he couldn't hold back the tears. After hearing him speak, neither could I.

He lives in Altadena, the historically Black community where flames tore through 16,000 structures and killed at least 29 people in January. His home was spared, but the community garden where he long served as president until 2023 wasn't. It's gone.

This week, I'm visiting the L.A.-San Diego region for the Institute of Journalism and Natural Resources's Southern California Wildfire Insitute. Grant joined us Wednesday morning, along with other Eaton Fire survivors, to talk about the recovery and rebuilding that comes next. Next to him sat Steven Lewis, an architect and Altadena resident whose home is still standing. Next to him was Loretta Williams, a journalist and Altadena resident whose home is not.

The three of them had so much to share — too much for me to write in the little time I have to put this newsletter together today.

What stood out to me, however, was that amid all this grief, community leaders were already imagining and dreaming and envisioning the transformative possibilities that lie ahead.

They're talking about community land trusts, a land ownership model that could keep their homes out of the hands of greedy developers for generations to come. They're protecting art and culture, gathering the iconic and historic tiles that once decorated many Altadena fireplaces. In plenty of homes, those tiles are all that remain amid the ashes.

I don't want to sugarcoat their realities. These families are suffering. Even those whose homes didn't burn can't live there. They're actively negotiating with insurance companies for funds to rebuild. Every day, predatory vultures call them, trying to buy what's left of their homes. Every day, they have an endless list of to-do's. I can't imagine what they're living through — but I can try. We all can.

Grant opened his discussion with an exercise. He asked us to close our eyes and imagine sitting at home with our loved ones on a peaceful afternoon. "You and your family, you may have your little dog with you," he said. "You may have some friends with you."

Then, someone outside shouts, "There's a fire!" It's a little fire, though. And it's not yet close, so you're not worried. The peace persists. Until all of a sudden, someone yells, "EVACUATE! EVACUATE!" outside your window. You look outside: "The fire is just about outside your door," Grant said. "What do you do?"

When I closed my eyes, I saw myself sitting on my brown leather couch with my partner and our cat. I saw my 15-year-old nephew and my 9-year-old niece. They come over sometimes with my sister. I thought of my mom and brother. I thought of the split second I'd have to gather them and flee. I thought of the worst: What if we couldn't make it out?

In Altadena, Latine families like mine were disproportionally affected, according to research out of UCLA. In the Eaton Fire zone, Latines hold 35 percent of the jobs. Many are domestic workers or landscapers. I thought of my dad, who used to cut grass for a living. I thought of my tia, who used to clean homes.

What made Altadena so special was its diversity — its eclectic array of people. I heard that over and over again. Williams, one of the residents I met, moved to the neighborhood for that very reason. Her neighbors were Filipino, Black, Ukrainian, and Latine.

"That's all on my street," she said. "I really would like that to come back."

Will it? The night prior, President Donald Trump stood before members of Congress and declared, "We’ve ended the tyranny of so-called diversity, equity, and inclusion policies all across the entire federal government. And, indeed, the private sector and our military. And our country will be woke no longer."

But diversity is what makes this country so great. It's what made Altadena so special. The president, of course, doesn't have the power to unilaterally determine the future of Los Angeles, but I can't help but worry about how city officials will formalize the preservation of that cultural heritage under the current political climate.

Luckily, the survivors of these fires won't relent. Sure, some may sell and find new homes, but many will stay. And they'll rebuild. They'll revive the funky character that made Altadena, well, Altadena. And there, they'll stay. At least until the flames come again. Because they will. That much experts can agree on.

Next time, will the people be prepared? Will their go-bags be packed? Will their lawns be fire-resistant and their homes up to code? It's time to learn to live with fire. I don't think it'll be long until we all feel the heat. I'm not ready. Are you? 🌀

DID YOU MISS MY POSSIBILITIES PLAYLIST? SAVE IT & LISTEN. xx

Rest in Power

While we can't say for certain that climate change led to these specific weather events (we need attribution studies for that), we do know that the Earth's rising temperatures are already creating more frequent and/or stronger disasters like these.

Floods hit northern Afghanistan last week, killing at least 29 people, including at least four children.

Southern Africa faced severe floods over the weekend. The last two months have been extremely wet and rainy, causing at least 20 deaths.

Cyclone Garance killed at least five people when it struck the Indian Ocean island of La Reunion, a French territory, on Friday last week.

Currently Reading

I'm super proud of my latest Atmos piece on the ways public funding cuts are hitting Indigenous researchers and tribal communities especially hard. Sending so much love to the federal workers who have been fired or whose jobs remain in a precarious state. Sending strength to the organizations and groups bravely standing firm in their missions in the face of it all. ✊

Justin Miller at The Texas Observer has an important story on the taxpayer burden of Texas Gov. Gret Abbott's border spending frenzy. I'm thinking a lot about border stuff while I'm in Southern California this week. I'll be doing some reporting out there this weekend, too.

I also heard today about how some L.A. homeowners hit by the fires are thinking about rebuilding using fire-resistant material — like clay. Jessie Schiewe has one hell of a feature for the Los Angeles Times.

Atmos contributing editor Ruth H. Burns has some inspiring words to share on AIM activist Leonard Peltier's release.

Poetry

the mountain peak
was the color of death
a dull brown with a hint of ash

it was once buzzing with green
alive and serene
until a bomb went off
from the thundering skies
down to the trees

a spark and then,
the mountain bled
the land scarred
and people fled

the mountain will ooze
the land will scream
in mud and boulders
and rotting trees

will we listen this time?
or will we shout back?
denial is a river
of embers and tears

-ylf-

I'm exhausted and grateful and missing my bed. Hope this was coherent enough! xx

- Yessenia