By Georgia Antonia Lewis
The Eaton Fire, which broke out on January 7, left a devastating mark on Altadena, wiping away generations of hard-fought progress for Black families and other communities of color. The disaster forced at least 2,800 households to evacuate within a day and claimed seventeen lives. Many Black residents returned to find homes passed down through generations reduced to ashes, erasing decades of effort to secure a piece of the American dream. Before the fire, the Black homeownership rate in Altadena stood at an impressive 81.5%, nearly double the national rate for Black Americans—a testament to the community’s resilience. Now, that legacy hangs in the balance.
For decades, this quiet community of unincorporated Los Angeles County at the edge of the San Gabriel Mountains served as a sanctuary for Black families who were shut out of homeownership elsewhere in California due to discriminatory redlining laws. In 1960, Altadena was 95% white, according to non-profit Altadena Heritage. After the Fair Housing Act of 1968 expanded housing access, Altadena’s Black population surged from 4% to 27% by 1970. Offering rare opportunities for homeownership, the area became a stronghold of the Black middle class seeking refuge from systemic discrimination.
The Eaton’s Fire’s impact was not equal: 48% of Black homes were destroyed or sustained major damage, compared with 37% of non-Black households. Now, beyond rebuilding, Altadena faces the challenge of ensuring that systemic inequities don’t erase the historic community.
Recovery efforts in Altadena must reckon with these disparities. Historically, communities of color have faced more obstacles in disaster recovery, including insurance red tape and inadequate federal relief. The Eaton Fire, which scorched over 14,000 acres, has highlighted these challenges, from the neverending list of bureaucratic hurdles to the long-term environmental risks of airborne toxins released during the fire. Local leaders are calling for stronger protections, including comprehensive air quality monitoring beyond existing smog metrics from the South Coast AQMD and collaboration with federal agencies like FEMA and the EPA. To expedite rebuilding, Los Angeles County has launched the Altadena Recovery Commission, tasked with streamlining permits and developing affordable housing solutions for displaced residents.
In recent weeks, journalists have drawn striking parallels between Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower and Altadena’s present crisis. In the futuristic-science-fiction novel, 15-year-old Lauren Olamina writes on February 1, 2025: “We had a fire today. People worry so much about fire.” The story, set in the fictional, racially mixed community of Robledo—widely believed to be inspired by Altadena—depicts a dystopian reality marked by fires, inequality, addiction, and climate disasters. Robledo’s destruction by fire and subsequent looting mirrors the devastation of the Eaton Fire, while Butler’s prescient warnings resonate in today’s political and environmental landscape amid the rollback of diversity initiatives, escalating hate crimes, and worsening climate crises.
Butler’s work challenges us to meet crises with courage and a vision for the future. As we enter another Trump Administration, this call to action feels more urgent than ever.
The Eaton Fire is more than a natural disaster – it is a test of Altadena’s legacy and the structures meant to protect it. Yet history has proven that Altadena’s resilience is not easily extinguished. Grassroots coalitions are already mobilizing, advocating for equitable rebuilding efforts and ensuring that those who built this community are not erased. Organizations like the Altadena Recovery Commissions, local mutual aid groups, and state policymakers have an opportunity to define what post-disaster recovery looks like, not just for Altadena, but for communities of color nationwide.
Former JCI employee Bella Mendoza, an Altadena local whose family lost their home in the Eaton Fire, shares her deep pride in her community’s collective resilience (see her full vignette at the end of the blog):
“At first, I feared people would move on after a month, forgetting what had happened. In many ways, that did happen—I’m currently in school in Rhode Island, and after January, people stopped asking how I was doing. LA and the fires faded from their minds. But here, in Los Angeles, that wasn’t the case. The community has continued to stand by the victims, offering donations, emotional support, and organizing gatherings.
This collective mindset—the commitment to taking care of one another—is the only reason so many people are managing to survive. Even when the system fails and leaves people behind, I remain hopeful and proud of my community for refusing to stand by. Instead, they’ve taken action to ensure that no one is forgotten and that everyone has a chance to rebuild.”
Senior Advisor at JCI, Ken Chawkins, is a local resident in Altadena. Ken reflects on what he believes is at the core of the community’s next steps:
“We must find a way to honor the importance of the past and connect it with the reality of the present and the hopes of the future. We need all of the communities within Altadena - the Black Community, the Latino Community, the Gay Community, the Senior Community and so on - to participate in the visioning of Altadena’s tomorrow. Roll up your collective sleeves and get to work!”
As Lauren Olamina reminds us in Parable of the Sower, “We can’t afford to just stand around being hopeful. We have to make hope real.”
Altadena’s future depends not just on rebuilding homes, but on ensuring that justice, equity, and community remain firmly in place. The fire has exposed the fragility of progress, but in its aftermath lies an opportunity to strengthen it. The question now is not just how Altadena will rebuild, but for whom.
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On January 6th, I lost my home in the Eaton Fire. While the loss was devastating and we are still working to get back on our feet, we are among the fortunate ones. My parents, both retired lawyers, quickly grasped the severity of the situation and immediately reached out to real estate agents to find a place to live. We had family in the area who took us in until we secured a rental home. We had friends nearby who provided laughter and comfort as we mourned our loss. We had savings to replace essential items without waiting for insurance to approve our claim. Most importantly, we understood how the system works.
Hours after the news broke about our home, I was inundated with texts and calls of support. Companies reached out offering to replace items, and donation centers filled up within hours. It was incredible to witness, but at that moment, it wasn’t exactly what we needed—we were homeless and had no space to store anything. However, to my surprise, the support didn’t fade after the initial shock. Even months later, just this weekend, my mom and I visited a donation site and picked up much-needed furniture.
At first, I feared people would move on after a month, forgetting what had happened. In many ways, that did happen—I’m currently in school in Rhode Island, and after January, people stopped asking how I was doing. LA and the fires faded from their minds. But here, in Los Angeles, that wasn’t the case. The community has continued to stand by the victims, offering donations, emotional support, and organizing gatherings.
This collective mindset—the commitment to taking care of one another—is the only reason so many people are managing to survive. Even when the system fails and leaves people behind, I remain hopeful and proud of my community for refusing to stand by. Instead, they’ve taken action to make sure no one is forgotten and that everyone has a chance to rebuild.
-- Bella Mendoza
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