The Brief

At community colleges and universities across the country, men of color — including Black, Latino, Native American, Pacific Islander, and Southeast Asian American students — continue to graduate at lower rates than their peers.

To change this, educators at local community colleges banded together to found the Men of Color Action Network (MOCAN). It works to transform institutional practices to help these students succeed.

Each year, MOCAN hosts a conference at one of its participating campuses. There, students and higher ed professionals come together to share resources, network, and discuss how to better support men of color. Nearly 500 people gathered on Friday at Long Beach City College for a day of motivational speakers, workshops, and camaraderie. Throughout the program, men of color could be seen in leadership roles, whether it was facilitating a workshop or providing ASL interpretation during a speech.

Long Beach City College’s Superintendent-President Dr. Mike Muñoz said that was intentional.

“When I think about my own journey,” he said, “I didn't see Latino males in these roles. And so, it was hard for me to see myself ever being a college president, or being a dean, or just even earning a master's degree."

Muñoz welcomed men of color from as far as San Diego and Bakersfield. Most of them were college students, and some were still in high school. Others were professionals looking to move up in their careers, including adjunct professors and counselors hoping to secure full time positions.

“First-generation college students become first-generation professionals,” said Muñoz. “And so, it's equally important that we're thinking about the kinds of communities that we build to support our young professionals doing this work.”

Inside a student workshop

For students at the conference, the workshop options included everything from overcoming imposter syndrome to the transfer process.

Daniel Rosales, a Long Beach City College student who’s majoring in social work and addiction studies, had never heard of “imposter syndrome” before participating in the workshop — but he readily identified with the notion of feeling like he wasn’t good enough or didn’t belong.

Rosales went to prison when he was 17 and was released nearly two decades later. When he first enrolled, he felt overwhelmed.

“When I first started, I didn't know what a major was,” he told LAist. “I just wanted to learn more about addiction because I'm a recovering addict. After a year and a half, I realized I wanted to help others.”

Steven Perkins, an attorney at Gibson, Dunn, & Crutcher, facilitated the session on imposter syndrome. He told the students that before they walked, he thought: “I shouldn’t be up here teaching a class.” Then, he paused and told himself: “I’ve given lots of lectures before, and I am well-equipped to speak on the subject precisely because I have imposter syndrome.”

Perkins and the students also talked about tracking their success; going to therapy; and building out positive emotions by making time to jot down moments of hope, joy, awe, serenity, and gratitude.

“I struggle every day with mental health,” Rosales told LAist. “But I don't let it sabotage my education or my life anymore.”

In conversation with his peers, he talked about the Justice Scholars Program, which helps students who’ve been incarcerated, as well as their loved ones, navigate their journey through higher education.

Students make their way through the resource fair at this year's Men of Color Action Network conference, which took place at Long Beach City College.

(

Julia Barajas

/

LAist

)

What did students see at the resource fair?

Students had the chance to explore the resource fair, which included booths with representatives from universities like Cal State Long Beach; the Charles Drew University of Medicine and Science; and several Historically Black Colleges and Universities, some of which offer guaranteed admission to California community college students.

The fair also had a booth where students, faculty, and staff could obtain information on free immigration legal services, including Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) renewals and advance parole.

For kinesiology major Charles Mason, the MOCAN conference provided an opportunity to reflect as prepares to leave Long Beach City College. Come fall, he will be a student at Cal State Long Beach — something he never imagined for himself when he was incarcerated.

“I kind of still can't believe it,” he said. “I have this ‘fear of failure’ thing going on, so it's a real big weight on my shoulders.”

Mason used to doubt a community college education could help him. Now part of him doesn’t want to leave. “I guess you can say it lit a fire in me."

For the last three years, the record store and music venue Healing Force of the Universe has been operating on a sleepy street corner not far from Pasadena City College. Nearby businesses include a shoe repair store, a nail salon and several auto shops.

“We're kind of in a dead corner,” owner Austin Manuel said. “No offense if anybody lives here, but not a very foot-trafficked area, kind of a hard place to have a store.”

In spite of the location, Manuel said Healing Force has become a home away from home for musicians and music fans. One of them is Bobby Bradford, a jazz trumpet legend who lost his house and personal archive in the Eaton Fire. He performs regularly at the venue. (Healing Force has also partnered with LAist on fire recovery events.)

Its current location is set to close this month, but Manuel and his team are already raising funds to cover a move to another space: G-Son Studios in Atwater Village. The repurposed ballroom was the Beastie Boys' home base when they recorded their classic albums Check Your Head and Ill Communication. Run-DMC and Biz Markie stopped by at one point, and Beck also laid down tracks for his album Odelay there.

Inside Healing Force's space in Pasadena.

(

Kevin Tidmarsh/LAist

)

The vibe

Healing Force sells records, of course, but these days it’s more of a nighttime performance space. Manuel said he wants people to feel comfortable striking up conversations after a show.

“I grew up in the church in the South, and I was like, ‘How do I design this so that it feels like a Southern church lady could come in here and feel welcome?’" Manuel said. “ I didn't want it to be too cool.  I wanted it to feel kind of suburban in a way.”

(

Kevin Tidmarsh/LAist

)

(

Kevin Tidmarsh/LAist

)

(

Kevin Tidmarsh/LAist

)

Though the name might call to mind a cult slogan — and Manuel said they lean into that aesthetic on purpose — it’s actually a reference to the 1970 album Music Is the Healing Force of the Universe by saxophonist Albert Ayler.

At the venue, “people can kind of get … into a meditative zone,” Manuel said. “After the [January 2025] fires, it felt so good to come back together in this room and feel the healing of community.”

Healing Force's stage setup.

(

Kevin Tidmarsh/LAist

)

The performances

The shows Healing Force puts on share a common thread: They’re meant to promote peace and relaxation, as well as deep, careful listening on the hi-fi sound system. But they’re an eclectic mix of genres. On one night, you might see L.A. spiritual jazz band Phi-Psonics, who turned a residency at the venue into a live album, Expanding to One.

On another night, you might catch a spaced-out electronic set, an up-and-coming singer-songwriter or a group of session musicians who’ve played with the likes of Paul Simon, Elton John and Lucinda Williams.

About the fundraiser

With the new space on Glendale Boulevard, Manuel said, Healing Force would triple its capacity for concerts, get a bar space and be closer to other venues in Northeast L.A.

“If 1,000 people gave $25, we would get there,” Manuel said – though he also said most people have been giving more.

You can read more about the fundraiser and donate at Healing Force’s GoFundMe.

See the Pasadena space before it closes

The venue is still open at 1200 E. Walnut Street and is holding events through this Halloween weekend. You can see their events calendar on their website.

The racist DNA of Jim Crow discrimination may be embedded in your housing documents.

The language in housing documents that restricts sale or use of a property only to a person of the white race is called a “restrictive covenant,” and in California the practice goes back to the 19th century and continued into the mid-20th century. While housing discrimination persists, the practice was found unconstitutional in 1948.

California counties are reporting mixed progress in meeting the demands of a 2021 law to excise the language from property records.

According to Sylvia Manzo, deputy recorder in the Orange County Clerk-Recorder’s office, the county finished the job in March of this year, removing racist language from more than 27,000 property documents with the help of computer software.

This 1924 property document from Bakersfield includes racist language limiting use of the property in question to people of "the white or Caucasian race."

(

Screenshot from CSU Bakersfield

)

L.A. County is far from done. It says that with the help of an outside company hired in 2024, 50 million pages will be examined yearly, which would take about 10 years to finish the job.

Public agencies could use the public’s help.

Language examples

Here’s a 1924 example from a property in Bakersfield. The text reads, “That the lands herein conveyed shall never, at any time, be sold to or rented to or occupied by any person not of the white or Caucasian race.”

Or this language from a 1936 document relating to a Costa Mesa property: “That said premises shall not be sold, conveyed, rented, or leased to, or occupied by any person of African, Mexican, or Asiatic descent.”

How to get it taken out

The Restrictive Covenant Modification Form is at the heart of the effort to remove the racist language from housing documents. Each county has its own process. Some charge a fee; others don’t. Some require a notary certification for the signature; others don’t.

L.A. County:

Registrar-Recorder officials recommend these steps:

• Highlight or underline the unlawful provision on the recorded document
• Complete the Restrictive Covenant Modification Form
• Submit the form and the recorded document by email: RCM@rrcc.lacounty.gov or in person at the Norwalk headquarters at 12400 Imperial Highway in Norwalk
• Mail instructions are here.

Orange County:

The Orange County spokesperson says there may be some properties not caught by its software and urges the public to report them. Here’s the form

Riverside County:

Here’s the Riverside County form

San Bernardino County:

Here’s the San Bernardino County form

San Diego County:

Here’s the San Diego County form

Santa Barbara County:

Here’s the Santa Barbara County form

Ignoring the racist language in property documents, some say, reinforces the legacy of segregation, while taking steps to remove restrictive covenant language is a way individuals and organizations can repudiate policies that sought to discriminate.