by Anissa Durham
The chimney is the only thing left standing where William Syms’ home once stood in Altadena, California. Like hundreds of other displaced residents in the Los Angeles suburb, the Syms family lost everything when the Eaton Fire tore through the community, killing at least 17 people, and razing at least 1,000 structures to the ground.
“It was almost as if a bomb had gone off,” says Syms, 40. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The fire has also reduced generations of Black cultural heritage and wealth to rubble and ash. Syms was born and raised in the home and had it passed down to him by his parents who have lived in the neighborhood for nearly 45 years.
The devastation threatens to unravel one of America’s most remarkable examples of Black middle-class achievement. And, as residents like Syms contemplate rebuilding, they face plenty of challenges, ranging from accessing home insurance policies, many of which insurers cancelled prior to the fire, to keeping themselves healthy, physically and mentally.
The Palisades Fire started on the westside of Los Angeles on the morning of January 7, but Syms wasn’t too concerned for his family’s safety until late afternoon. He says a level of unease started to creep into Altadena, as winds gusting at 59 miles per hour whipped through its lush neighborhoods adjacent to the San Gabriel Mountains.
Around 5 p.m., he gathered with his neighbors to discuss what was happening, and then, just after 6 p.m. the Eaton Fire started. With the power cut out and flames starting to approach Altadena, Syms and his family left around 7 p.m. with nothing but their toothbrushes and a change of clothes.
He returned the next day with his father and a neighbor.
“It just felt like hope had been lost,” he says.
In that moment, he thought about his next-door neighbors who moved in on Dec. 15, now also without a home. And Syms realized with a shock that his family’s birth certificates, social security cards, and his wife’s wedding rings were gone. Initially, he blamed himself for not being more prepared.
“There was grief, frustration, anger, and disappointment in myself,” he says. “Then I realized, things are still on fire.”
And he was still alive and could take action.
Syms, alongside other organizers, created a list of more than 600 Black families in Altadena who have lost their homes and have active GoFundMe campaigns. The directory has separate Google Sheets for Latine, Filipino, and disabled residents, as well as affected local businesses. It has been widely shared by news outlets and on social media. Most campaigns still aren’t fully funded. Syms knows first-hand that Altadena’s Black residents need resources to rebuild and keep their roots in the town.
How Altadena Became a Safe Haven for Black Americans
Due to news reports about the Eaton Fire, many Americans have just started learning the rich history of Black folks in Altadena. In the 1960s Altadena was a 95% white and 4% Black community, due to redlining. But, during the civil rights movement, these racist laws became unenforceable.
Altadena became one of the few places offering home loans to Black and Brown people, who began buying homes. White people fled into the neighboring suburbs. By 1980, it was 49% white and 43% Black.
In 2022, the homeownership rate in Altadena was about 30% higher than in Los Angeles County and Palisades. There was also nearly a year over year increase from 2018 to 2022 for homeownership in the community. According to the Associated Press that number rose to 81.5% in 2023.
The area reads like a who’s who of Black excellence: Octavia Butler, Jackie Robinson, Eldridge Cleaver, and Sidney Poitier all called Altadena home. But now with more than 7,000 structures damaged or destroyed by the Eaton Fire, residents may face climate gentrification, a phenomenon where the displacement of low-income communities due to climate change increases cost of living and property values.
“When you think about so many of the heroes in Black history and American history that have come from Altadena and Pasadena, this isn’t a city we’ll turn our backs on,” Syms says. “Our plan is to rebuild our family home.”
What Will Become of Altadena?
For Vickie Mays, professor of psychology at the University of California, Los Angeles, the Eaton Fire is not the first major disaster she’s seen. When Hurricane Katrina hit in August of 2005, Mays spent five years in New Orleans helping rebuild the mental health system. As she reflects on her time there, she is worried about what will happen to the Black residents of Altadena.
“Not everybody has the stomach to rebuild in the same place. Some people don’t have the money,” she says. “So, what you’re looking at is, your neighborhood as you knew it, is probably not going to be your neighborhood of the future.”
It’s understandable that people want to stay with their close-knit community, Mays says, but Altadena residents are going to experience a new normal. This has already created anxiety for many.
Kristin Barnes, 53, is the daughter of John Barnes, the legendary late musician and arranger who used his prolific piano and keyboard skills to shape the music of nearly every major mid to late-20th century Black R&B artist you can think of: Michael Jackson, Marvin Gaye, Lionel Ritchie, and Diana Ross, to name a few. And he co-arranged “We Are the World” with Quincy Jones.
Prior to his death in 2022, her father, who was born in Watts, rented a home in Altadena for five years. In 2021 Kristin moved in to take care of him. At this point, he was completely bedridden.
“This was my last act of service to my father,” she says.
During the year she spent as his caregiver, Barnes had her final conversations with her dad in that Altadena home. They had prayer gatherings to honor his life. She got to meet his friends and musical collaborators, and she created her last memories with him.
Now, it’s all gone.
“I was driving when I saw the notification, and I pulled over to look at it and I just sobbed in my car,” she says. “It’s not about the material possessions; it’s about the sacredness of those spaces. People lost generational homes. I think those things are the harder parts.”
When things felt heavy while caring for her dad, Barnes would go outside for a walk. There was a peacock community nearby. She used the time to connect with nature and the animals to ease her mind from the pain and heaviness she felt. As she walked the hills, she would meditate on the beauty around her.
“I was in a house where there was death happening, and there was such life around me,” she says. “The pain of that going away was almost as hurtful as my father’s house.”
After sharing on social media that her father’s home was destroyed, Barnes received many words of encouragement. The response is representative of how L.A. residents have continued to come together to support those affected, through food drives, free meals, donated clothes, and housing options.
“I’m hopeful that the human spirit is indelible,” she says. “When we choose to work together, we can find ways to bring beauty to a horrific situation. One thing Black people know how to do is rise from the ashes. That I fully believe.”
How Can You Support Altadena Residents?
Angela Parker, director of community engagement and education at the Jenesse Center, a South L.A. domestic violence prevention and intervention organization, says the nonprofit was founded to help people in crisis. Last week, it announced its ongoing partnership with L.A. Care Health Plan’s Community Partners Collaborative to provide resources like diapers, men’s clothes, blankets, and gift cards to wildfire survivors.
“These families are in crisis. These families are suffering trauma,” Parker says. “It’s a different type of crisis and trauma, but we still want to be there for them.”
But beyond the daily needs, taking care of mental health needs is just as important. Cashuna Huddleston, a licensed clinical psychologist in Houston, says when Black Americans experience natural disasters, they may face additional challenges due to systemic inequities, cultural expectations, and historical trauma. And folks may be pushed to process more than others.
“If you don’t take care of your mental health, it’s going to be hard for you to recover and exemplify the resilience that you need to get through this hardship,” she says. “It’s a priority, just like your physical health.”
While all eyes have been on the current reality of wildfire survivors in L.A., Barnes implores others to continue to show up. Rebuilding the communities that have been reduced to dust and ash will take time. Altadena residents will need support in six months and years down the line.
“A critical part of this story is to ensure that we don’t forget and move on with our lives, because the shock is over,” she says. “I don’t want Altadena to be forgotten.”
Source: Seattle Medium
