Latest news with #Castrillón
Refinery29
16 hours ago
- Refinery29
From Wildfires To ICE Raids, L.A. Latines Keep Fighting Back
Just five months ago, Mexican firefighters were rushing to Los Angeles to keep the city from burning to the ground. Now, before there's even been time to process or heal from that trauma, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) is targeting undocumented immigrants with brutal raids. Since Friday, June 6, the organization has violently seized 330 people. Immigrants are living in fear — of showing up at graduations, churches, grocery stores and their places of work. This fear, of course, isn't new, but it's currently being magnified in cruel ways. It feels like there is no safe space. To make matters worse, we're seeing this play out in real time with every video, every post, and every update with social media making it impossible to avoid. The cycle doesn't just happen once, it replays and retraumatizes us each time. Colombian therapist Cristina Castrillón, LMFT, says these conditions can trigger and further traumatize immigrants — many of whom have already experienced the trauma of leaving their homelands and families behind. Castrillón also points out that immigrants, particularly people of color, are more prone to complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD), which studies have found can result from experiencing long-standing trauma. 'Then there's the social and economic adversity of being undocumented, being impacted by things like food scarcity,' Castrillón adds. 'There might also be more chances for higher substance abuse.' According to the therapist, there is no shortage of trauma for immigrants. 'This is especially true for folks who fled their homelands due to violence — like people from Central America.' And now, it's happening all over again. On that fateful Friday in June, entrepreneur, educator and immigrant rights organizer Sharet García witnessed one such ICE raid unfold in downtown Los Angeles' Piñata District, a neighborhood that's long been home to countless Latine immigrant-owned businesses over the years. She was shopping for decorations for her son's high school graduation party when she witnessed the raid take place. 'ICE had just trapped all the workers inside this fashion apparel company,' she tells Refinery29 Somos. 'I knew that we needed to record this. We couldn't stay quiet; I wanted the people to know.' Even though she's undocumented herself, García — founder of UndocuProfessionals, which serves as a safe space for undocumented students and professionals — knew she had to stay at the scene. But, more importantly, it was clear she could not do it alone. She would need to rally her community. 'They lined up 30 to 40 people there,' she says, adding that some of the detained workers' daughters were present. The children reassured their parents that they were in this lucha together, and that they would never stop fighting for them. 'It was really hard to see that, but we wanted to make sure that we recorded everything. And that's when everything started happening.' Slowly but surely, people showed up to protect the Piñata District workers. Ultimately, García says, it became difficult for ICE to detain people because the crowd was 'not allowing them to just easily leave.' This solidarity isn't lost on the people of L.A., who are currently turning out in troves to protest the military occupancy in their sanctuary city. One Latine Angeleno, who requested to go only by the name of Crystal, has attended several protests in the city and can vouch they are not nearly as violent as certain media outlets portray. ' This fear holds a lot of people back from being in public, making it even more critical for documented citizens to stand up and fight back. ' To be clear, seeing these images — whether you are undocumented or not, whether you love someone who is undocumented or not — harms folks mentally and emotionally. And the cruel truth is: that's the point. '[Seeing violent footage] just further creates a narrative that makes us feel alienated,' says Castrillón. 'Think about what that does to someone's sense of self, worth, identity and belonging.' In short, this dehumanizing treatment rips apart our self-esteem and sense of security to shreds. It can lead to higher rates of anxiety, depression and relational issues. Some people have even left the country in what's being called ' self-deportation,' because they no longer feel safe in the U.S. Other people are experiencing vicarious trauma when they see their loved ones in fear or hear them talking about their trauma, she adds. But, as always, the community protesting these immoral ICE raids proves that they're not criminals; they're just trying to do what's right. 'There are people carrying and passing around water and snacks,' says Crystal, who also notes that some folks are acting as medics, carrying first-aid kits, masks, and goggles, and treating people who have been wounded by rubber bullets. 'I feel like that's what's not being credited, not being shown. It's a very different experience being there than watching it.' A large percentage of immigrants and folks on the front lines are Latine. But make no mistake, these ICE raids are not just a Latine or 'raza' issue. While it's true, Latinos account for a majority of immigrant communities, we're not the only ones impacted. According to a Pew Research Center analysis of U.S. Census Bureau data: 'A third of all Latinos in the United States — an estimated 21.4 million people — are immigrants.' That's roughly 45% of the nearly 50 million immigrants currently living in the U.S. The next largest group? Immigrants from Asian countries, who make up 28% of the U.S. immigrant population. This doesn't account for immigrants from African, Caribbean, Middle Eastern or European nations. And just for context: less than 10 miles from the Piñata District, in Mid-City, you'll find L.A.'s Little Ethiopia. Each and every single immigrant is equally important in this struggle. Every immigrant's story matters. Every community is part of this fight. Edwin Sotos, an immigrant rights and community organizer knows this firsthand. He says these are the people who have long been on the front lines, often undocumented themselves. But even those committed to the work are feeling the weight. Castrillón says, many in the movement may have experienced or are currently experiencing compassion fatigue. ' Despite attempts to erase or dehumanize immigrants, our communities continue to show up, for each other, for justice and for joy. That in itself is a powerful act. ' 'People are really feeling burned out, fatigued, unable to continue, or needing moments to themselves to pull away from the work,' she says, adding that keeping up your 'self-care is necessary, because it is becoming so pervasive, there is no break — especially for people on the front lines.' Sotos agrees, pointing out that people in the immigrants' rights movement have always felt a lot of feelings. 'For one, I feel very inspired to see how people are becoming very aware of how ICE has been treating our communities and how violent and terrorizing they are towards our community, and that the community is standing up against them and fighting back,' he says. 'I feel that if we had this type of awareness 10 to 15 years ago, a lot of our work and advocacy would be very different.' Sotos also feels upset and concerned with how some influencers and content creators have responded. 'They either center themselves and erase immigrant voices or overlook and ignore the work that we have done as immigrants and documented people to get [to] where we are right now.' Overall, though, Sotos attests this time is more intense. 'I'm definitely concerned at how different and how much more violent this round of ICE raids are in comparison to what we have seen in past years. I do think that these violent attacks from ICE, and the deployment of armed forces, are going to have a long-term effect on our community.' 'In our fight for immigrant rights, we have to include [folks from other countries], too,' Soto says. 'At some point, they are struggling with the same issues. Immigrants come [to the U.S.] from almost every country in the world, and from different races and different ethnicities, cultural and racial backgrounds.' To that end, Sotos spotlights a few resources for undocumented people who may not identify as Latine: The UndocuBlack Network: Black immigrants who organize communities and advocate for policy changes National Korean American Service & Education Consortium (NAKASEC): Korean and Asian American immigrants fighting for social, economic, and racial justice Asian Americans Advancing Justice Southern California: Civil rights advocates for the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community Even so, it's irrefutable that the effect of these brutal raids are hitting L.A.'s Latine communities hard. On TikTok and Instagram, the fear is loud and visible with videos showing just how deeply these raids are shaking us. One viral clip shows an MSNBC reporter standing in an empty field — farmland usually tended by immigrant workers, now deserted due to ICE threats. Another video shows a KTLA anchor reporting on an ICE raid at a local elementary school. People are scared. And the same conversations aren't just happening online, they're happening in person, over WhatsApp and on the phone. García says she has received an increased number of calls from undocumented individuals admitting they want to protest and show their support but are worried about their safety, especially being in close proximity to la migra. 'Some people are angry about what they're seeing, but there's definitely a lot of fear in the community,' says García. This fear holds a lot of people back from being in public, making it even more critical for documented citizens to stand up and fight back. Doris Anahí Muñoz, an artist and activist who previously endured family separation at the hands of ICE, says there are several things she wished she knew during one of the darkest moments of her life. 'The hardest part of a path to citizenship is how costly it is,' says Muñoz. 'I wish I had known about these kinds of organizations back then. For people like my parents, they didn't even know support like this existed.' Thankfully, community support is growing, as a result there are more resources available including free legal services across L.A., offering help to undocumented folks in need. Some of these organizations include: The Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights (CHIRLA): Diverse immigrant families and individuals whose mission is to achieve a just society fully inclusive of immigrants UCLA Civil Rights Project: Legal services networks, nonprofits and private practice attorneys who can assist undocumented residents needing legal assistance Chicas y Cafecito Community Resources Los Angeles: A round-up of helpful phone numbers and legal services for immigrants At the end of the day, mental health experts and community organizers also acknowledge and agree: this work is heavy and it is important for the people in this fight to take care of themselves and each other. One of the best and most important ways to do just that is to find moments of joy. 'Our true community efforts are the most important in this. We really need each other right now to keep this movement going,' says Muñoz. Naturally, people are doing this — dancing in the street, hyping each other up and chanting like the ancestors are watching. Sotos admits, it can be difficult for organizers and community advocates to center their own emotions and well-being since their primary focus is fighting injustice. 'But I will say that I have been sleeping and resting more because I've been very tired. Also, being in community spaces and connecting and checking in on my friends and my family has been very helpful,' he says. 'We're validating each other, sharing that we are there together and that we're going to defend and protect the community. But we're also going to be there to connect, uplift each other and hear each other out.' Castrillón encourages folks to have self-care practices on their own time, too. 'Some people cannot step away from it like other folks can. Not everyone gets the privilege,' she says. But even if you only have five minutes, try to use those to check in with your body. Ask yourself: 'Did I eat well today? Am I nourishing myself? Am I sleeping enough and getting enough rest? Am I getting support?'' she suggests. 'Cry, be held, be seen. Go to therapy, support groups or healing circles.' These are all warm and necessary reminders that we are not alone. Sotos echoes this truth. 'I feel sometimes we are so into wanting to protect our community and advocate, and we feel like we need to be strong,' he says. 'But sometimes, we just need someone to listen to us…especially in the work that we do.' Despite attempts to erase or dehumanize immigrants, our communities continue to show up, for each other, for justice and for joy. That in itself is a powerful act. As Sotos puts it: 'Being openly undocumented is my most powerful tool at this point. My mere existence as an undocumented person is my most powerful resistance.' Resources for undocumented people who may not identify as Latine The UndocuBlack Network: Black immigrants who organize communities and advocate for policy changes National Korean American Service & Education Consortium (NAKASEC): Korean and Asian American immigrants fighting for social, economic, and racial justice Asian Americans Advancing Justice Southern California: Civil rights advocates for the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community Self-care tips from mental health professionals Check in with yourself to make sure you're eating, hydrating, resting and taking care of your body Talk to friends and family to avoid the isolation that results from living and reliving trauma in person and on social media Try to take breaks from the work to find moments of joy with the people you love Where to donate
Scoop
19-05-2025
- Health
- Scoop
Pandemic Heroes Stepped Up In 2020 – Now They're Asking World Leaders To Do The Same
16 May 2025 A defining moment for global health is about to unfold in Geneva. The United Nations is playing a central role in efforts to prevent future pandemics, as the World Health Assembly works to finalise the text of the Pandemic Preparedness Treaty — a document born from the catastrophic failures and fragile victories of COVID-19. The text of the treaty promises shared information, equitable access to vaccines and therapeutics, and stronger healthcare systems – all of which resonates deeply with the people who lived through the worst. In 2020, at the height of the global pandemic, UN News spoke with many of the unsung heroes who faced impossible challenges with courage and resolve, including doctors, community workers, a journalist, a youth volunteer and an Indigenous leader. They were exhausted, scared, hopeful and determined. Today, five years later, they carry scars and wisdom from that fight. We went back to them – and their reflections remind us of what is at stake. Margarita Castrillón, Paediatrician, Buenos Aires, Argentina 'We were heroes without capes and without fair pay.' In 2020, Dr Margarita Castrillón, a Colombian paediatrician living in Buenos Aires, found herself taking on far more than her usual clinic work. As COVID-19 swept Argentina, she volunteered to also serve in emergency medical transport, riding in ambulances to transfer patients, many suspected of having the virus, to hospitals across the city. After one of those long, exhausting shifts, she noticed a handwritten sign taped to the elevator in her apartment building. It said 'I'm Victoria from the 7th floor. If you need any groceries or help, ring my doorbell,' she recalls. 'That gesture filled my soul after such a hard day at work. It marked me. I thought: 'the good people outnumber the bad'. Empathy was winning.' Dr Castrillón was working across multiple roles – clinic, ambulance, teaching at the university – all while raising her young daughter. 'It was brutal. I look back and I want to cry. I'm not sure I'd be as brave if it happened again. Every day I left home terrified.' The memory of Buenos Aires' summer heat under full protective suits stays with her. 'We were heroes without capes and without fair pay. We worked 24 hours, covering for sick colleagues, unable to eat or speak together.' But the experience gave her one unexpected gift. 'I taught my daughter to read, write and do maths at home. It made me a better mum. I valued family and true friendship more than ever.' Her medical routine also changed permanently. 'I now wear a mask with every patient. It protects both of us. And hand sanitiser stations in hospitals are permanent now.' On the upcoming global pact, she is firm: 'We need collaboration and love for people at the government level. We lived through hell. Some colleagues still suffer panic attacks. Recognition and fair pay are essential to keep health systems strong.' Evgeny Pinelis, Intensive Care doctor, Brooklyn, New York When we first spoke to Dr Evgeny Pinelis in the spring of 2020, he was deep in New York City's overwhelming first COVID wave. 'Our first severe patient came on 7 March. By the end of the month, we had over forty ICU beds full,' he recalled. ICU nurses were pushed beyond safe limits, caring for up to five critical patients at a time. 'I do hope there won't be a next time, because I'm not confident we're truly ready.' Protective equipment ran so scarce that he bought supplies with his own money, while volunteers scrambled to donate gear, some uncertified, but 'better than nothing.' Throughout the crisis, Dr Pinelis shared dispatches on social media, chronicling the chaos with honesty and caution. 'I woke up one morning to thousands of new followers,' he said. Five years later, his reflection is sobering. 'I can only speak about this from the perspective of a regular intensive care doctor. And if I had to sum it up, I'd say I realised I'm ready, if necessary, to work far beyond the norm and do everything possible when faced with a poorly understood disease that we didn't quite know how to treat.' The public's reaction, he says, was a mixed bag. 'On the one hand, there were volunteers, support, and solidarity. But on the other, there were conspiracy theories, complaints about things as trivial as closed theatres, and at times even hostility toward medical professionals and scientists.' In the earliest days of the pandemic, positivity seemed to win out. 'But within a month or so, the negativity began to dominate,' he says. 'We were lucky that the disease turned out not to be highly lethal.' As for preparedness today, Dr Pinelis remains cautious: 'Being less prepared than we were in New York is hard to imagine – so yes, we can and should be better prepared. But it seems the lessons learned weren't quite the ones we hoped for. And I do hope there won't be a next time, because I'm not confident we're truly ready.' Chen Jingyu, lung transplant surgeon, Wuxi, China In 2020, Dr Chen Jingyu, vice president of Wuxi People's Hospital and one of China's leading lung transplant surgeons, performed the world's first lung transplants on critically ill COVID-19 patients. His team worked under extraordinary conditions, moving their operating theatre into an infectious disease hospital and taking extreme precautions to avoid infection. 'We didn't know if there was any virus in their airways during the process of cutting off the diseased lung. So, we did the surgery with very strict precautions,' Dr Chen said at the time. 'We had a very scientific discussion about how we could save lives, protect our healthcare workers, and achieve zero infection.' 'The Pandemic Treaty is a turning point in global health.' Today, Dr Chen says the Pandemic Treaty represents a critical milestone. 'The Pandemic Treaty is a turning point in global health governance. First, in terms of prevention and early response, the treaty will help build a global coordinated prevention system, strengthen pathogen monitoring and information sharing, and implement the One Global Village, One Health approach.' 'Second, the treaty provides legal guarantees for equitable access to medical resources, avoids national monopolies, and improves global standardisation of care capabilities to patients in severe conditions.' Dr Chen believes the lessons of the pandemic must be used to build a fairer system. 'Access to and training of high-end medical technologies will enhance the ability of developing countries to respond to severe diseases such as respiratory failure and reduce mortality,' he says. 'Only through international cooperation and scientific consensus can we truly have the courage and confidence to fight against pandemics.' Marcos Terena, Indigenous leader, Brazil The pandemic devastated Brazil's Indigenous communities, including Terena's own Xané people. 'I still can remember that morning, in our Indigenous community, when we heard that a cousin of ours had passed away suddenly." 'He started coughing and ended up dying. That scared all of us in our community'. 'About two hours after his death, we learned that his wife, who had gone to the hospital to retrieve his body, had also died, from the same symptoms. We started panicking and looking for help, as this was a disease that even our leaders did not know how to handle, how to cure. They did not know much about this disease which was brought to us by the wind.' The loss became personal when his brother, the creator of the Indigenous Olympic Games, also died of COVID-19. 'It brought us emotion, tears. He went to the hospital and never came back.' 'The UN must make a pact for life' Looking back, Mr Terena believes the World Health Organization played a crucial role. 'When the WHO became the focal point and the mediator for the pandemic response, this gave the United Nations a very responsible role to play among governments across the globe,' he says. Today, his message remains urgent and clear. 'We are not talking about money or currencies. We are talking about well-being. We the Indigenous people fight for the Earth. The Earth is our Mother, and our source of life; it gives us our cosmovision, our food security and our dignity as peoples.' As world leaders meet again, he leaves them with a final plea: 'The UN should make a pact for life, a pact for dignity and a pact where life is crucial to all.' Nikhil Gupta, United Nations youth volunteer, Varanasi, India As COVID-19 overwhelmed Varanasi, India's spiritual heart, Nikhil Gupta – a United Nations Volunteer from Uttar Pradesh – stepped in to serve the most isolated communities. 'The pandemic changed everything,' he says. 'In Varanasi, COVID-19 infected over 80,000 people, and thousands of families in remote villages were left without access to healthcare, education, or even accurate information. But the crisis revealed not just gaps but grit.' Mr Gupta and his team launched creative grassroots solutions. 'Guided by the UN principle of 'Leave no one behind,' we created an animated volunteer guide named Ganga – a friendly character with a warm voice and simple wisdom. Ganga became a beacon of hope, educating villagers about hygiene, safety, and vaccination through videos watched on shared mobile screens under neem trees.' 'When the world paused, we stepped forward. When fear spread, we spread hope.' They also opened Vidya ki Jhopdi – The Hut of Education. 'It was a community classroom built from scrap but powered by purpose. There I met Raju, an 11-year-old from a nearby slum who had lost access to school. He would sit on a worn-out mat every afternoon, eyes wide with wonder, scribbling letters in chalk. Today, he reads and writes fluently, and dreams of becoming a teacher.' The human moments left the deepest impression. 'There was Amma Shanti Devi, a 90-year-old widow in a remote village. Left alone after the lockdown, she hadn't stepped out in months. Through our volunteers, she received regular wellness check-ins, medicine deliveries, and simply someone to talk to.' Looking ahead to the Pandemic Treaty, Mr Gupta says that it shouldn't be only technical or top-down. 'It should echo the voices of people like Amma and Raju. It must include local wisdom, volunteer networks, and ensure grassroots equity. My message to world leaders? 'Laws can guide, but love must lead. Invest in hearts that serve, not just in speed.'' He adds: 'Support young changemakers. Recognise the power of community-driven action. Make health systems inclusive. And build a world where, when the next storm hits, the light doesn't dim. Because in every village, there's a Nikhil. And in every Nikhil, a youth waiting to be led.' Alejandra Crail, Journalist, Mexico City 'Health is more than vaccines. It's also mental health, emotional health.' When the pandemic hit Mexico, Alejandra Crail was not just reporting the crisis, she was sounding an alarm. Her investigation, To Kill a Son, revealed that every two days in Mexico, a child under 15 is killed – often at home, and often by someone in their own family. 'Let me remember something,' she says. 'At the beginning of the Coronavirus, I started to talk to different experts on childhood rights and domestic violence…We were worried because we were about to lose our eyes in schools, sports, and community centres. Children were more vulnerable than ever during the COVID era.' For many, home wasn't a safe haven. 'Their houses were the most dangerous places for them, and their nearest family members are usually their attackers.' Now, five years later, the violence hasn't eased. 'The number of domestic violence cases has increased after the pandemic,' Ms Crail says. She shares one case she can't forget. Joselina Zavala, a grandmother who reported the sexual abuse of her disabled grandson. 'She went to the police…despite the testimony of the child and the proof, his father was absolved. 'When people go to the authorities to achieve some kind of justice… the authorities usually don't investigate enough, and the crimes are unsolved.' The pandemic also reshaped her personal convictions. 'Health is the most important thing to make sure that we have,' she says. 'When we live in a country like Mexico, where we don't have a good public health system, a pandemic or any other illness can be very, very hard to survive.' She adds, 'Work isn't the most important thing in the world. Family - your loved ones – are the real treasure. We need to spend more time with them, because we don't know how much time we can share.' Looking ahead to the World Health Assembly and the Pandemic Treaty, she warns that global responses must go beyond access to vaccines and medicine. 'Health is more than vaccines. It's also mental health, emotional health,' she says. Her final message to world leaders is as personal as it is political: 'We need to open paths that benefit all countries that make up the world. These issues must be on the table because in a pandemic, they can be the difference between a family surviving adversity, or not.'
