In a city as Latino as Los Angeles ― approximately 48.6% of the region is Hispanic or Latino ― you don’t have to look too far to find someone who’s been affected by the ongoing ICE raids throughout the area.
I know someone whose grandma’s church parking lot was used as a staging ground to detain immigrants. Others I know, who have documented status, say they’ve had heavy hearts all week, fully aware that they’re only one or two generations removed from being considered “illegal” by the Trump administration.
They’ve inherited a certain amount of comfort through the legal status attained by their parents and grandparents, but the people on the news don’t look different at all from their tíos or primas. (And of course, Latino communities are not the only immigrant groups being targeted: There are Black, Asian, Middle Eastern and Pacific Islanders immigrants also under threat.)
Whatever your ethnicity or legal status, it’s impossible not to feel shaken by footage of fieldworkers being snatched on the job by federal agents or hear about 12-year-olds being detained outside their elementary schools.
Unless you’re native or were brought here as an enslaved person, most of us can trace our history back to an immigrant who was searching for a better life in America.
Jennifer León Salinas, a trauma-focused family therapist in Los Angeles, California, said she’s been anxious all week, as have many of her clients.
“As a therapist, undocumented immigrant, and a DACA recipient, it has been devastating, dehumanizing, enraging, fear-inducing, and exhausting to constantly witness and experience these raids,” she told HuffPost.
As the raids continue to dominate the news, León Salinas said it’s important to name the anxiety, guilt and uncertainty people are experiencing. It’s called “collective trauma.”
According to the American Psychological Association, collective trauma refers to “traumas rooted in oppression or discrimination toward a minority group by a dominant group, in contrast to interpersonal trauma.”
“By calling it what it is and validating the fear and uncertainty, we can resist the pressure of normalcy, this act of ‘business as usual,’ develop external and internal resources, and build community rather than being isolated, dismissed, or shut down,” the therapist said.
To that end, we asked León Salinas and another therapist who works with Latino communities to share their best self-care advice for these stressful times.
Let yourself feel all your feelings in safe, supportive spaces.
“Many of us were taught to stay strong, to keep going, to push through — and that resilience has helped our families survive so much,” said Alejandro Sandoval, a marriage and family therapist.
That strength is real and powerful, but healing also means giving yourself permission to feel what’s happening. Anxiety, grief, rage — these are normal responses to abnormal situations. Those feelings don’t make you weak, they make you human.
“You can be both resilient and tender,” Sandoval told HuffPost. “Finding spaces where you can safely express those emotions — with a trusted friend, therapist, faith leader, or within your community, even online — allows you to release what you’ve been carrying. You don’t have to do it alone. Emotional safety is not a luxury — it’s part of survival, too.”
León Salinas notes that there are therapy directories like LatinxTherapy, Inclusive Therapists, and Open Path Collective to find a therapist that best resonates with you.
Educate yourself on your rights and then pass it on to the community.
Regardless of immigration status, don’t forget that you still have rights ― encroached on as they may be under the current administration.
Learning those rights sends a message: “I belong here. I have a voice. I will not be silenced or erased,” León Salinas said.
“Understanding our constitutional rights empowers us to stand with dignity, make informed decisions, and protect ourselves from fear-induced tactics by the government,” she said. “When we share that knowledge with others in our communities, we help build collective strength and resilience.”
On social media and in neighborhoods, people have shared these printable, pocket-sized “Know Your Rights” red cards with information in multiple languages explaining how to handle encounters with federal immigration authorities.
Recognize when you’re in survival mode.
Many immigrants — and even those just witnessing what’s happening — are living in a constant state of survival mode, Sandoval said. Meaning, as you read these jarring headlines and watch the news, your nervous system is on high alert, scanning for danger.
As a result, he said, you might feel anxious, tense, numb or emotionally drained. These are natural responses to ongoing stress and fear.
“Simply noticing these signals — without judgment — can be the first step toward finding steadiness in a time that feels anything but steady,” Sandoval said. “Ask yourself: What does my body need right now? Rest? Stillness? Support? Your body is not the enemy; it’s trying to protect you.”
Protecting yourself could also mean taking some time away from watching the news or doomscrolling. Of course it’s important to stay informed, but be aware when your body is feeling overwhelmed or distressed and take a break.
Practice this surprisingly easy grounding technique.
Trauma pulls us out of the present and into panic or shutdown. Grounding helps bring you back, Sandoval said.
One simple tool is the 5-4-3-2-1 technique: Name five things you see, four you can touch, three you hear, two you smell, and one you taste.
“Or place a hand over your heart and breathe slowly, saying, ‘Estoy aquí. Estoy a salvo.’ (‘I am here. I am safe.’),” Sandoval said. “These practices help regulate the nervous system and gently remind your body that it’s no longer in immediate danger.”
Make some time to practice acts of joy and nurturance.
Too often, the world reduces us to our labor, León Salinas said. It scales us down to what we can produce with our minds and bodies, when we’re so much more than that. That’s why making a concerted effort to protect and lean into our joy is a radical act of self-preservation and power, especially during trying times like this, the therapist said.
“Our joy reminds us that we are more than our suffering and that we can reclaim our story,” she said. “It allows us to challenge the systems of oppression by using our bodies to laugh, sing, dance, and story tell throughout generations to come.”
In difficult times, it also might help to remember generations of the past, and what they endured and survived.
“When it feels hard to pause or feel, we can remember: our strength didn’t start with us — it’s ancestral,” Sandoval said. “It lives in us, even now.”