Grieving Together, Rising Together: Collective Trauma and Community Strength in the Wake of ICE Raids
There is a particular kind of grief that comes from watching your community be targeted. It’s the kind that doesn’t always have words — a grief that lives in the body, tightens the chest, disrupts sleep, and makes you scan the world for danger even when you’re home.
That’s the kind of grief so many of us are carrying right now in Los Angeles. Because ICE is in our neighborhoods. Because children are scared to go to school. Because families are texting legal hotlines in the middle of the night. Because so many of us know what it feels like to hold our breath every time we hear a knock on the door.
As a therapist, I sit with this grief in session after session. As an immigrant, I carry it too. And as a community member, I am in awe of what has happened in response.
What We’re Feeling Isn’t Just Personal — It’s Collective Trauma
When entire communities live under threat, it’s not just individual trauma — it’s collective trauma. We carry it together. We witness it in each other. And if we’re not careful, we can begin to feel hopeless or disconnected.
Signs of collective trauma may include:
Feeling on edge or chronically anxious
Difficulty sleeping or concentrating
Feeling numb, frozen, or detached
Deep sadness, rage, or helplessness
Survivor’s guilt if you’re safe but others are not
These are normal responses to an abnormal amount of stress. You are not broken. Your body and nervous system are trying to survive in a world that feels unsafe.
In Our Grief, We Are Finding Each Other
But here’s what has moved me to tears again and again these past few weeks:
Even in this grief — we are finding each other.
I’ve seen therapists offering free community circles and crisis sessions. Attorneys pulling long nights to represent undocumented clients. Neighbors organizing rapid response teams and mutual aid. Students educating their families about their rights. People showing up — in small, everyday ways — with food, rides, childcare, and comfort.
We are not just grieving. We are remembering that we belong to each other.
What Collective Healing Can Look Like
Healing doesn’t always look like feeling “better.” Sometimes it looks like:
Crying together without fixing it
Creating safety plans as an act of love
Talking to our inner child and saying, You’re safe now
Turning off the news to reconnect with our breath
Resting not because we’ve earned it, but because we deserve it
Remembering: We are not alone in this
📍 Resources to Support You in Los Angeles
📞 Rapid Response Hotlines
LA Rapid Response Network – 888-624-4752
Boyle Heights / East LA – 323-805-1049
⚖️ Free Legal Aid
Esperanza Immigrant Rights Project – (213) 251-3505
Immigrant Defenders Law Center – immdef.org
CHIRLA Hotline – chirla.org
🏠 Housing & Shelter Rights
Stay Housed LA – stayhousedla.org
Public Counsel – publiccounsel.org
Bet Tzedek Legal Services – bettzedek.org
🤝 Community Support
CARECEN-LA – carecen-la.org
Asian Americans Advancing Justice – SoCal – advancingjustice-la.org
You Are Not Alone — And You Never Were
We are allowed to grieve. We are allowed to be afraid. And we are allowed to still find joy, to still rest, to still imagine safety.
This moment is painful — and it is also proof of how deeply connected we truly are.
We resist. We protect. We grieve. We rise. Juntxs.