The sweltering sun beat down on our sweat-stained backs as we marched through the streets. With the chants of hundreds of people reaching every crevice of the city, the pavement glinted with an unforgiving heat. Large homemade signs fluttered, many of them holding up symbols of workers, demanding justice for immigrants.
It was a mood of solidarity—but also one of apprehension.
On Fourth Street in Santa Ana, a calm protest took place yards away from the Orange County School of the Arts. Though this specific demonstration was peaceful and not met with violence, a palpable sense of tension and fear permeated the air.
At recent protests in Santa Ana, immigrant rights protesters were met with rubber bullets, tear gas and ID checks. These protests and the events leading up to them raised some essential questions:
What does “sanctuary” truly mean in a city that claims to be protecting its immigrant population?
Being one of the first in the nation to promote non-citizen voting in local elections, launch an immigration defense fund and allow undocumented residents to be on city commissions, Santa Ana is Orange County’s only sanctuary city. Not only have these policies traditionally created an environment for many diasporic communities to thrive, the city has positioned itself as a staunch defender of immigrants’ rights.
However, recent protests and their resulting violent police responses make it alarmingly clear that Santa Ana is not the same city as it once was.
Santa Ana, a city where more than 75% identify as Latino and about 41% foreign-born, is also one of the most lethal in Orange County when it comes to police’s use of lethal force. The jarring truth raises disturbing questions about who receives protection — and who receives punishment.
In a interview with Councilmember Jonathan Hernandez, the city’s sanctuary city designation is threatened by a police department “comfortable with shooting at the public.” Unfortunately, Councilmember Hernandez himself is not a stranger in the case of police violence.
Only nine months into office as the youngest councilmember in the history of Santa Ana, his cousin, Brandon Lopez, was murdered by the Anaheim PD. Hernandez’s struggle for justice and advocacy for immigrants is still driven by this unmeasurable loss.
“This is why I’m on the front lines,” Hernandez said. “Because I fear that one day, demonstrators could be killed by ICE as well.”
This type of activity from the Santa Ana Police Department is the polar opposite of sanctuary values that the city claims to believe in. Rather than being a place of safety for marginalized communities, the department’s activities have caused a climate of repression and fear.
Specifically, ICE enforcement continues to target immigrants in the corners of normal everyday life. Individuals are arrested at bus stops and at work. Parents are taken from homes in front of their children.
“Your school lunch lady. Your neighborhood counselor,” said Hernandez. “Those are the people they’re going after.”
Supporters of ICE enforcement usually argue that the agency sends dangerous criminals back to their countries. However, the majority of those detained are not criminals. Many have no criminal record whatsoever. The actual safety threats, Hernandez contends, are not immigrants, but elites who enact policies based on fear.
In contrast, the Capitol attackers on January 6—most of whom violently assaulted police officers and trespassed on sacred government buildings—have been pardoned and publicly defended. These contrasts guarantee that the word “criminal” has an uneven and unfair double definition.
When asked what his vision for a safer, more just Santa Ana was, Councilmember Hernandez revealed that he hopes for “A city where immigrants feel safe. Where children aren’t terrorized for protesting human rights violations. A city that looks out for its neighbors.”
That vision is both a challenge and a guide. Creating a city truly safe and welcoming requires more than words in policy statements. It requires taking responsibility, being transparent and a serious commitment to the values of sanctuary—not only in words, but in actions.
“What is a city,” Hernandez asks with a steady yet emotionally charged voice, “if it doesn’t care about their neighbors?”
