Ever since I can remember, I have feared the Santa Ana winds, as many who are born and raised in the hills of Los Angeles do. When those winds come pounding on your door, breaking the silence inside, it feels scarier than any burglar, for you know you are no match for their incredible power.
“The unpredictability of the Santa Ana affect the entire quality of life in Los Angeles, accentuating its impermanence, its unreliability,” wrote Joan Didion in her book, ‘Slouching Towards Bethlehem.’ “The wind shows us how close to the edge we are.”
This year, a summer filled with record high temperatures faded into a dry, windy autumn. By early January, it had been eight months since heavy rain had last touched the dehydrated sidewalks of the San Fernando Valley or the sun-baked Spanish-style homes of Pasadena.
This wet season, October through January, Los Angeles only received 0.03 inches of rain, less than one percent of the average rainfall expected for the area. Near-record levels of dryness this winter turned vegetation into kindling and prolonged the fire season, which typically ends in the early fall.
On Tuesday, Jan. 7, the Santa Ana winds once again invaded Southern California with a destructive power not seen since 2011. Aggressive gales with gusts reaching up to 80 miles per hour combined with the unseasonably dry conditions spelled a recipe for disaster — the only thing missing was a spark.
This spark came, like we feared it would, on Tuesday in the Palisades’ hills. And that was only the beginning.
A sleepless night on Tuesday turned to a sleepless night on Wednesday, which rolled into a nightmare of a Thursday. Will it never stop spreading? When will my childhood stop burning?
Will Rogers State Beach, where my mom and late grandmother took me often when I was a toddler. The years of hikes, swims, and picnics that my friends and I had at Topanga State Park, whipping down the canyon roads to get there. My beloved Pacific Coast Highway that I drove every single Friday of the pandemic. My beautiful Getty Villa, that saw me at all stages of my life and was always there for me when I needed cheering up.
At work on Thursday, I was so sleep-deprived and scared. My heart pounded at the back of my throat. In between pouring beers and serving salads, I paced and obsessively checked the Watch Duty app for the fires’ progress as acreage grew and containment barely improved.
500 acres. 700 acres. 1000 acres. I watched the Kenneth fire close in on my neighborhood. 10,000 acres. 13,000 acres. 17,000 acres. The Palisades fire swallowed places that I loved and cherished.
During my shift, around 5 p.m., I got a call from my sister. When I didn’t pick up I got another — and another. I opened my phone and saw a string of texts from her about the fire that had started not even four hours prior. And then her most recent text:
“Kenneth fire is right next to us. Do you want me to pack anything for you?”
I froze, flashing back to the Woolsey fire of 2018 when I couldn’t go to my house for weeks and flames licked my backyard’s fence. I felt out of control, angry, and hopeless.
I woke up at 5 a.m. on Friday morning, as I have done every day since this disaster began, to check its murderous progress. Overnight those fickle Santa Anas laughed and taunted me from afar, rampaging in an unpredictable pattern. As quickly as the winds had herded the fire towards my family’s home, they had yanked it away, and my house was safe for now.
But thousands of people all over Los Angeles have not been as lucky. Combined, the Eaton and Palisades fires burned over 37,000 acres of land, displaced over 150,000 people, killed at least 25 people, and destroyed more than 12,000 structures.
Since the fires began last week, I have barely been present. My mom, dad, sister, and cat are back home breathing in ash-filled and toxic air that is so strong it has made its way into the house. My family sits on their couch and, hundreds of miles away, I sit on mine. We are glued to the same television programs, refreshing the same apps, and feeling the same helplessness. What do you do when your memories don’t just slip through your fingers, but burn before your eyes?
What pulls me out of my deep anxiety and fear for my family and friends — some of whom lost everything they have ever known — is the love and support I see all over California. People everywhere are uplifting the issue, validating each other in their grief, and tirelessly working to help those who lost their homes, businesses, and livelihoods.
It’s easy to get sucked into the doom scroll on Instagram or stare unblinking at the minute-by-minute updates spouted by Anderson Cooper on CNN. But in trying times like these, the best thing we can do is come together as a community.
If you are mourning, if you are grieving, if you are scared and feeling hopeless, you’re not alone. Let yourself feel, be angry, scream, and cry. But also allow yourself to feel the love of the community surrounding you, and give that love back.
How to Give Back
Community members arrived in droves to help clear branches and debris from Pasadena streets on January 11th 2025.
The Eaton fire alone has destroyed over 5000 structures, killed at least sixteen people, and irrevocably changed Altadena. In a town where 18 percent of residents are Black and 58 percent are people of color, generations of history were burned to the ground in a matter of days. A once secure future is now completely uncertain.
Many residents are finding their insurance companies do not offer adequate fire protection coverage for their homes. The result is that some families are left with limited coverage, relying on California’s basic insurance plan.
Two leading law firms serving Black Americans in California, The Cochran Firm and Ivie McNeill Wyatt Purcell and Diggs, are currently helping raise money to help these disenfranchised communities who have lost everything. They partnered with community leaders to launch a GoFundMe campaign that pledges to distribute 100 percent of the funds directly to affected residents in Altadena and Pasadena.
Another source helping the Altadena community that you can donate to are Friends in Deed, located at 444 East Washington Blvd. Pasadena, CA 91104. Their Street Outreach and Housing Team is currently guiding displaced people to their Bad Weather Shelter, making sure everyone has masks, food and water. They are also gathering and distributing donations for victims of the fire.
A great source for victims of the Kenneth, Eaton, and Palisades fire is the 2025 L.A. Works page Together We Can Help: How to Aid Fire Relief. This page contains dozens of resources that have everything from how to virtually help those displaced find temporary housing through websites like AirBnB to providing opportunities to volunteer in person.
If you are struggling with mental health in the wake of the fires, there are also free resources that can be utilized. One of these is the Los Angeles County ACCESS Center, which is open in person or reachable by phone at 1-800-854-7771. The LA County Department of Mental Health has also compiled a list of free resources specifically for those impacted by the wildfires. Additionally, UCSC released a statement to those affected by the wildfires that included mental health resources to support students, like Slug Support.