Paramount, a community in South Los Angeles, became the epicenter of tensions following the deployment of the National Guard ordered by President Donald Trump. The move, which included sending 2,000 troops, was a response to a wave of protests sparked by immigration raids in the area.
On Sunday, standing behind a fence guarded by armed soldiers, a local resident voiced his outrage: “Are you going to war with all those weapons?” It was one of many community voices expressing their rejection of the military presence.
The previous Saturday, Paramount was the scene of clashes between protesters and agents from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), following rumors of deportation operations in the area. What began as isolated protests escalated to the point where Trump intervened, calling for military force to “restore law and order.”
California Governor Gavin Newsom responded swiftly, calling the measure a provocative act that would only worsen tensions. His warnings were confirmed the next day, as protests erupted in downtown Los Angeles—streets were blocked, vehicles set on fire, and police used tear gas and stun grenades to disperse the crowds.
Standing at the fence, another local shouted: “You’re doing your job, but we are not the enemy.” Only a few dozen people gathered that day, but their message resonated throughout this largely Latino community—more than 80% of Paramount’s population is of Hispanic origin, and 36% were born outside the U.S.
“This neighborhood was built by immigrants,” declared one resident, as Mexican flags waved, anti-ICE signs were raised, and car horns blared in solidarity.
A climate of fear
Just across the street, three Latino workers chatted from their pickup trucks about what had happened. Juan, a 63-year-old Mexican who came from Jalisco at age 17, recounted how tensions flared the night before near the local Home Depot.
He explained that rumors of raids led to confusion, drawing demonstrators and resulting in chaos. Although the Department of Homeland Security denied that ICE conducted operations in Paramount that day, it did confirm that 118 undocumented immigrants were arrested during recent actions in the city.
Juan said he and his friends are in the country legally, but acknowledged that many neighbors are undocumented and live in fear. “That’s why you don’t see anyone out here today,” he said, pointing to the usual gathering spot for dozens of day laborers seeking work.
One of the few who dared to show up was Pedro, a 70-year-old Salvadoran who has lived in the U.S. for five decades. In his truck—along with tools for roofing and painting—he kept an empty tear gas shell fired by agents the previous day.
Though he’s had legal status since 2000, the current climate has him thinking about returning to El Salvador. “This is becoming unlivable with this president,” he said.
Faith, resistance, and community
Amid the uncertainty, many sought spiritual refuge at the Chapel of Change, a Christian church near the site of the clashes. There, around 200 people—mostly Hispanic families—gathered in search of hope and unity.
Pastor Irene Ramírez described the community as “vibrant, united, and family-oriented.” Senior pastor Bryan Worth emphasized the collaborative work that, over decades, helped transform Paramount from one of the most troubled small cities in the country into a symbol of integration and progress.
Dora Sánchez, a church volunteer, expressed her shock: “I never thought the scenes we saw on TV would happen here.”
As tensions continue to rise in downtown Los Angeles and the standoff between federal and state authorities deepens, Trump stands firm. “Order will be restored, undocumented immigrants will be removed, and Los Angeles will be free,” he wrote on his social network, TruthSocial.
But in Paramount, the community insists on a different message: “We are not the enemy. We built this place.”
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