Evacuating During the Sunset Fire: A Surreal Experience
I have been a resident of Los Angeles for over 15 years. I moved to this vibrant city in the fall of 2008 to pursue my dreams and attend journalism school. Like many other Angelenos, my aim has always been to transform my passions into a successful career while managing to pay the rent. The stunning blue skies and iconic palm trees around me have made this journey even more delightful.
Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, I sometimes feel a bit odd claiming Los Angeles as my home, but I say it proudly. LA is where I've shared countless moments with friends on the lawn of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (often shortened to LACMA), enjoying jazz under the summer sky. It's the place where I learned to always rush through the unprotected left turn at the intersection of Beverly and La Cienega, or else face a chorus of car horns. And no matter how your evening goes, the tempting scents from nearby taco stands always provide comfort.
This lively atmosphere came to a halt when wildfires erupted across the Los Angeles area on January 7. Now, I grapple with loss, feeling a mixture of distress and uncertainty, much like so many others who have also been affected. While I have not lost everything, the feeling of impending change hangs over us all.
As the Palisades Fire ignited, I remained glued to my phone in my Hollywood apartment, switching between Instagram, live news feeds, and messages from friends and family, using an app called Watch Duty that kept me informed about the situation.
Watch Duty is a nonprofit organization in California that relies on volunteers, including dispatchers, first responders, reporters, and scientists. Although relatively new to me and my circle, the app quickly became a vital resource, providing accurate updates about the fire situation.
Los Angeles has a history of wildfires, but I was taken aback by the flames during a time outside of what we typically call fire season. Climate change has pushed fire seasons to new levels, making them less predictable. A wet winter led to abundant growth of grasses, but the subsequent long dry spell dried out the landscape, offering plenty of fuel for fires. Moreover, this year's Santa Ana winds were stronger than before, driven by unusually high temperatures in the Pacific Ocean.
With each alert from Watch Duty, my anxiety grew. The fire's size continued to increase, and messages from my mom and brother popped up on my screen, asking, "Are you okay? What are you doing? Did you pack a bag?"
Then the Eaton Fire struck. This fire hit close to home for me since many of my friends have families who lost everything. It particularly affected Altadena, a historically Black neighborhood in Los Angeles. Altadena represents hope for financial stability and longevity for many Black and brown residents. The Eaton Fire's impact is severe, especially considering the ongoing challenges of homeownership disparities in our community.
A few days later, the Sunset Fire broke out, quickly spreading near Sunset Boulevard in the Hollywood Hills due to intense winds. I watched in disbelief as evacuation warnings marked in bright colors spread toward my area.
The yellow and red zones approached my neighborhood alarmingly fast. With a mandatory evacuation zone just three blocks away, my heart raced with anxiety. I called my brother in Culver City to ask if I could stay with him.
That night, I hastily packed a suitcase with clothes, electronics, toiletries, and my passport. On my drive across town, I stopped to refuel, but panic enveloped me as I noticed the thick haze and unsettling orange tint in the air, causing irritation in my eyes and throat. Other drivers, wearing masks, hurriedly filled their gas tanks amid falling ash resembling snowflakes.
If this was the apocalypse, at least I knew my family was safe for now, and I thought I could replace my belongings if needed.
Once I arrived in Culver City, I collapsed on my brother's couch, exhausted and anxious about returning home. The next day, I turned back to Watch Duty, listening to a press conference with the LA Fire Department Chief, who provided some hopeful news about the fire situation being under control.
Despite feeling thankful, I experienced conflicting emotions - from anger to confusion, from fear to exhaustion.
By Thursday night, I was back home. The moment felt surreal. As I scrolled through social media, I encountered a range of experiences among my friends. Some shared heartbreaking stories of their losses, while others provided resources to those affected. Many had evacuated, some far away, unsure of their next steps.
Though I was safe, the sense of security was elusive.
These devastating fires have led me to question what it truly means to have a home. Is it simply the physical structure we inhabit, or does it encompass deeper connections and shared experiences regardless of physical boundaries?
While I feel grateful to have my home intact, I know many are not as fortunate. It’s difficult to fully grasp the challenges faced by homeless and housing-insecure individuals, let alone those who have lost everything but might have the means to rebuild.
Over the past week, I've observed a profound sense of community here in Los Angeles. Despite the challenges, I've been moved by the kindness and generosity of strangers, highlighting a hopeful vision for a future where people help one another.
Moving forward, I am uncertain about the future of Los Angeles, but I take heart in the efforts of civic leaders and community members working toward a better tomorrow. And I’ll be right there with a taco in hand.
fire, evacuation, community, wildfire