There were food trucks giving away food, and a live DJ played as people danced and grieved. It was a bittersweet celebration for a community reeling in the wake of devastating wildfires.
They were marking a milestone: Pasadena had gone a year without a single gang-related death, according to the Pasadena Police Department. But today was just a new spark for me that God was just there," LaToya Carr said. Carr, 49, is a community outreach coordinator with Pasadena's Gang Outreach Violence and Interruption Services, established last year.
The city's northwest neighborhood was once a hotspot for gun violence and racial profiling. In the wake of the deadly fire, Carr witnessed her community rallying together after Black Altadenans were hit hard by the flames. And that's a big deal. Dena Love Day brought together resources for residents: hairdressers offered braiding services next to FEMA employees helping people apply for disaster relief. It was a moment to breathe and reflect in a neighborhood that had faced so much adversity.
For years, redlining drove inequities in Altadena and Pasadena. Lake Avenue, which bifurcates the two into east and west, had historically been a de facto segregation line preventing families of color from purchasing properties east of Lake Avenue. Redlining had been outlawed for two decades, but home sellers still found creative excuses to redirect her interest.
Still, Black Angelenos found a rare kind of prosperity in the foothills of the San Gabriel Valley as Altadena became one of California's first integrated middle-class neighborhoods. King's uncle, M. There was a doctor's row, a block of Black medical professionals, and lawyers and school principals. Residents had accumulated generational wealth through their homes, but thousands of those homes have turned to rubble.
