The Brief

I consider myself an unlikely surfer.

A few years ago, I — a middle-aged Black woman in search of mini-adventures — put on a wetsuit, rented a big foam surfboard and took some lessons.

What surprised me was how freeing it felt. Not because I was any good, but because I didn’t feel a need to be. It was enough just to be outside, in the ocean, trying something new.

Something a little unexpected.

I’ve had several surf sessions since that first one, but last week was different. I had a lesson with Nathan Fluellen, founder of A Great Day in the Stoke, a free event in Orange County billed as “the largest gathering of Black surfers in history.”

The fourth annual festival is set for Saturday in Huntington Beach.

“Every year it’s growing, and it’s exciting to see it grow at a rapid pace,” Fluellen said.

The all-day event has many objectives, according to its founder: showcasing Black surfers, providing lessons and promoting water safety.

Organizers say the event is about creating a space where representation is the norm, not the exception.

“My surf dreams were deferred,” said Fluellen, who is Black, in an interview after my surf lesson. “I didn’t see anybody that looked like me.”

He imagined more than a few children and teens have floated the idea of surfing to parents and friends, only to be told it’s not something Black people do.

“Because they never saw it,” he said. “So if you don’t see it, you can’t believe it.”

Origins of the festival

Fluellen, a travel influencer and TV host who lives in Los Angeles, was in his mid-30s when he took up the sport. He’s now 44.

As a child growing up in Chicago, Fluellen had seen surfing in movies — the original Point Break is a favorite — and they sparked an interest, he said. But that gave way to basketball — he was growing up in the Bulls’ home city in the era of Michael Jordan after all.

The spark reignited when he got the opportunity to meet Zulu surfers in Durban, South Africa.

“It was just pure joy,” he recalled. And he couldn’t wait to go back.

Now, the event he founded draws hundreds to the water.

Nathan Fluellen, founder of A Great Day in the Stoke, an annual festival in Huntington Beach that celebrates Black surf culture

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Dana Littlefield

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LAist

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The idea for A Great Day in the Stoke was prompted, in part, by paddle outs Fluellen and other surfers held starting in 2020 to honor the lives of slain Black men and women, including George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor.

“It was cool at first,” he said of the paddle outs, noting they were among the few opportunities he had during the COVID-19 lockdowns to see people in person. “But then, I just got exhausted of paddle outs because it was a reaction to tragedy. And then, I was just like, ‘Man, we need something to celebrate our existence.’”

The festival’s name was inspired by a famous photo titled “A Great Day in Harlem,” taken in 1958 by photographer Art Kane. The photo featured 57 jazz musicians posing in front of a brownstone. Four decades later, in 1998, photographer Gordon Parks captured a similar image — this time with nearly 200 rap artists and producers — titled “A Great Day in Hip Hop.”

Fluellen swapped in the word “stoke” because it’s rooted in surf culture.

Representation matters

Fluellen said A Great Day in the Stoke is part of a larger movement to amplify access, equity and inclusion in surfing and promote health and wellness.

He chose Huntington Beach because it’s known as Surf City USA, home to both the International Surfing Museum and the US Open of Surfing.

He said the city has welcomed the event, which attracted hundreds of attendees its first year.

Devon James, a 24-year-old surfer and content creator from Pasadena, was at the event four years ago. He’s been surfing since he was 9.

“The first one was rad just because it was so new and everyone was, like, to the nines, going 100 percent,” he said. “Just the community as a whole really showed out.”

Attendees at a previous A Great Day in the Stoke event in Huntington Beach.

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Courtesy A Great Day in the Stoke

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James said A Great Day in the Stoke is about providing a space for freedom of expression in the water.

“We have people coming in from all over the country,” he said. “It’s truly just a celebration of surf culture and just an opportunity for inclusivity. And I think that’s what I love about it.”

My surf session

To avoid the crowd gathering for a special event in Huntington, my lesson took place just down the coast in Newport Beach.

The weather was as close to perfect as I could hope for. The air was hot, and the water was cold, but not too cold.

Fluellen started with instructions on how to lie on the big, foam surfboard, paddle with my arms and pop up to my feet. He asked if my stance was “regular,” with my left foot forward and my right foot back, or “goofy,” the opposite.

“Regular,” I said, sounding a little too confident.

Fluellen carried on with the lesson: “Your head controls where you’re going. So if you look straight, you’ll go straight. If you look to the left, you’ll go to the left. Look to the right, you’ll go right. Look down, you’re going down.”

I laughed nervously.

No need to worry about paddling, he said, because he’d wait for a wave and push me into it. All I had to do was stand up.

Easier said than done, I thought.

What followed was me trying and failing again and again to catch small waves as they rolled to the shore. In the end, I had sea water in my mouth and sand in my ears, but I managed to stand — briefly — at least once.

And that felt like success.

“You’ve got good mechanics,” Fluellen told me later. “You’ve got to just keep practicing, keep coming out. … You know, practice makes perfect.”

Luckily for me, perfection’s not required.

LAist Associate Producer Brandon Killman contributed to this report.

This story was originally published by Boyle Heights Beat on Feb. 24, 2026.

East Los Angeles is home to nearly 119,000 residents, but the community has no mayor or city hall.

So who makes decisions? Who fixes potholes? Who gets called to report illegal dumping?

East L.A. is not a city, and it’s not part of the city of L.A. Instead, it’s an unincorporated part of L.A. County, and even though it’s the most populous unincorporated area in California, community organizers say many residents are unaware of the problems that raises.

According to the L.A. County Planning Department, there are approximately 120 to 125 unincorporated areas in the county, which altogether represent two-thirds of its total area and one-tenth of its population.

“For the 1 million people living in these areas, the Board of Supervisors is their ‘city council’ and the supervisor representing the area is their ‘mayor,’” the department website says.

So what does it mean to live in an unincorporated community?

Let’s break it down:

What is an unincorporated community?

An unincorporated area is land within a county that has not been designated to be a city, meaning that it relies on county services, including for law enforcement, public works and local government.

Instead of being governed by a city council and a mayor, major decisions for East L.A. residents fall under the authority of the L.A. County Board of Supervisors.

East L.A. residents have called for representation that’s more closely tied to their community and financial transparency, saying they want to know how their tax dollars are spent locally.

Who represents East LA?

East L.A., located in Supervisorial District 1, has been represented by County Supervisor Hilda Solis since 2014. Her term is set to end this year.

Solis also makes decisions for the nearly 2 million other residents who live in District 1, which covers more than 20 cities, stretching from Silver Lake to Pomona, as well as various neighborhoods of the city of Los Angeles, including Boyle Heights and downtown.

On a state level, East L.A. is represented by Assemblymember Jessica Caloza and state Sen. María Elena Durazo. Rep. Jimmy Gomez represents East L.A. in Congress.

Who provides key services for East LA residents?

Independent cities often provide residents with their own municipal services such as law enforcement, firefighting, animal control, trash collection, road maintenance, library services and parks.

Here’s a list of services available to East L.A. residents:

• First District Field Office – East Los Angeles
  
  • Services: Here’s how you can get in touch with Solis’ office if you have questions or concerns.
  • Location: 4801 E. Third St., Los Angeles
  • Contact: (323) 881-4601
• East LA Sheriff’s Station 
  
  • Services: In addition to serving East L.A., the station also serves the cities of Commerce, Cudahy and Maywood, as well as unincorporated Belvedere Gardens, City Terrace, Eastmont, Saybrook Park and Union Pacific.
  • Location: 5019 E. Third St., East Los Angeles
  • Contact: (323) 264-4151. For emergencies, call 911. 
  • Website: lasd.org/east-los-angeles
• LA County Fire Department
  
  • Services: The L.A. County Fire Department serves all of the unincorporated area within Los Angeles County, as well as 60 incorporated cities, 59 of which are in Los Angeles County and one in Orange County. 
  • Contact: (323) 881-2411. For emergencies, call 911.
  • Website: fire.lacounty.gov
• Public Works
  
  • Services: L.A. County Public Works responds to calls about graffiti, potholes, illegal dumping, homeless encampments, transportation services and building and safety permits, among other things.
  • Contact: Reports can be submitted online. Urgent requests can be made by calling the 24-hour line at (800) 675-4357.
  • Website: pw.lacounty.gov
• 211 LA County
  
  • Services: 211 L.A. County provides health and social service resources, including housing support, mental health care, financial assistance and recovery resources. During disasters, like wildfires and other crises, the line provides real-time information and can help people find shelter, food, financial help and emotional support.
  • Contact: Dial 211. Those unable to reach 2-1-1 service can call (800) 339-6993. TTY/TDD# (phone for hearing impaired): (800) 660-4026
  • Website: 211la.org

For a full list, check out this guide to unincorporated areas services for District 1.

Why isn’t East LA its own city?

Over the decades, multiple efforts to incorporate East LA into a city have failed. A recent fiscal analysis concluded that cityhood remains financially unviable for the region. Residents have continued their calls for more financial transparency and better representation. A new effort on the horizon may allow citizens to directly advise the county on issues unique to East LA.

How can residents make their voices heard?

The report that deemed cityhood unfeasible for unincorporated East LA last year recommended the formation of a Municipal Advisory Council (MAC) — a formal, citizen-led body that would provide residents with a structure for public input and give stakeholders a direct line of communication to county leadership.

At the first of six community forums on Saturday, Feb. 21, some residents deemed the MAC a stepping stone towards proper incorporation down the line. Others asked for better economic investment and access to a localized, itemized budget every year for residents to understand how their tax dollars are spent on improving social services and local businesses.

“Every problem we have, can be solved if we have a local government,” resident Francisco Cardenas. “We have nobody to complain to.”

Here’s everything you need to know about the MAC and the upcoming community forums where residents are invited to weigh in. The next meeting will take place Thursday at East L.A. Library, located at 4837 E. Third St. Register here.

Medical debt affects 1 in 9 Los Angeles County residents — almost a million people — according to the county health department. It’s a financial burden Long Beach resident Alexy Cordova learned about at a young age.

When she was 16 years old, Cordova was in a car crash that resulted in multiple surgeries on her spine and intestines. But over the years, her pain kept coming back to the point where she was constantly in the emergency room.

Despite having health insurance, those visits led to medical bills which piled up, including one for $2,200 in 2020.

Getting the relief

For Cordova, who’s now 25, living with that debt was a heavy burden. She wanted to pay it off, but she was young, and with a minimum wage job, it was hard to save and focus on her education at the same time.

“You want to pay this, but you have all these other bills,” Cordova said. “What comes first? Obviously not medical debt. I mean, not to me. I’m going to be honest.”

Many of the bills went into collections. Recently, she paid a repair service to help take care of them — but then she received a letter in the mail. She almost assumed it was another bill, but when she opened it, she realized it was something else entirely.

It was a notice telling her that $2,200 of her debt was being paid off by an L.A. County pilot program, which uses the nonprofit Undue Medical Debt to buy medical debt for pennies on the dollar. Cordova was happy to see it.

Alexy Cordova works as a legal assistant while she pursues a degree in criminal Justice.

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Courtesy Alexy Cordova

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“ I definitely felt relieved,” she said. “Knowing that I have a bill really does stress me out, and it adds to everything that I have going on.”

So far, L.A. County’s pilot program has abolished more than $363 million in unpaid medical bills, for 170,000 residents.

You can’t apply for the relief; instead the program works with certain hospitals and healthcare providers to identify debts eligible for the program.

The debt problem

Unpaid medical bills are very common and often out of people’s control.

Certain factors can increase your risk. County public health data shows that visiting an emergency room just once a year makes you twice as likely to face medical debt. It also disproportionally affects lower-income households and Latino and Black patients.

Cordova says her situation happened because she wasn’t getting the right help at those emergency room visits, and doctors weren’t telling her where to go next. She ended up finding a specialist at the recommendation of her mother, a step that finally reduced her pain.

Cordova has learned from her debt experience and has some suggestions: Ask for itemized bills any time you get charged for care, so you can see what you’re being asked to pay for, and negotiate your bill.

“ If you don’t understand a charge, look into it. If you feel like it’s excessive, say something. I didn’t know that when I was younger,” she said.

More medical debt relief is on the way for L.A. County residents. According to an Undue spokesperson, they have about half of the current contract still to spend for the pilot program.

Nineteen hours after leaving Coachella Valley, Oscar Deleon Jr. stepped off a bus with four bags of clothes, $800, admission to Chico State University, and no idea where he was going to live or work. All he knew was that he was taking his agriculture professor’s advice from College of the Desert and transferring to a university to continue his education.

He checked into a hotel. Two days later, at orientation, he learned about the Rapid Rehousing program at Chico State. The program’s community partner, True North Housing Alliance, a nonprofit that addresses homelessness in Butte County, paid for Deleon’s hotel bill. The university transferred Deleon to student housing for the school year and helped him secure financial aid to cover most of the cost.

“When I needed somewhere to go, they were willing to help me out, no questions asked. ‘Let’s get you situated,’ you know? You don’t forget that kind of help,” Deleon said.

Since the program launched in 2020, the College Focused Rapid Rehousing program has helped over 9,000 students facing housing insecurity or homelessness. Through partnering with local community-based organizations, Rapid Rehousing provides students with emergency housing, rental subsidies, case management and advising.

Rapid Rehousing operates at all 10 University of California campuses, 25 community colleges and 18 California State University campuses. Students in the program reported higher GPAs and improved mental health and nutrition, according to an evaluation of the program in 2025 by the Center for Equitable Higher Education at Cal State Long Beach. As of 2025, California spends $31 million annually on Rapid Rehousing programs in higher education. The governor’s proposed budget for 2026-27, released in January, also includes $31 million.

Rapid Rehousing came to the rescue

Following the 2018 Camp Fire in Northern California, Butte County lost over a third of its housing stock, impacting students at Chico State.

“A whole town was lost of housing,” said Emma Jewett, the senior basic needs case manager at Chico State. “Our students are often struggling to get housing and find sustainable housing as it is, because they don’t have the qualifying factors, such as making three times the rent.”

But students everywhere were having a hard time finding affordable housing. In 2018, 10.9% of 27,805 students surveyed across the Cal State system reported they had experienced homelessness in a Student Basic Needs survey commissioned by the chancellor’s office. In a separate survey of California community college students, 19% of nearly 40,000 respondents had experienced homelessness between 2016 and 2018.

Meanwhile, off-campus housing costs across the state increased by more than 30% between 2018 and 2022, according to California Competes, a research organization focused on higher education and workforce issues.

In response, the state Legislature included $10 million for a rapid rehousing pilot program in the state Budget Act of 2019, with $3.5 million going to UCs and $6.5 million to Cal States. Universities applied within their systems to receive grants to participate.

Left to right, Emma Jewett and Leah Slem, staff leaders of the Basic Needs Center at Chico State, stand inside a Rapid Rehousing home in Chico on Feb. 5, 2026.

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Salvador Ochoa

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CalMatters

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Chico State was one of the Cal State campuses initially awarded funds in 2020, alongside Long Beach, Pomona, Sacramento, San Diego, San Francisco, and San José. The state expanded the program to include Northridge in 2021. All UC campuses participated in the pilot as well.

Moving from kitchen to garage to student housing

Rapid Rehousing felt like a “support system,” said Eli Reyneveld, a third-year communications major and soccer player at Sacramento State. He didn’t always want to be a student athlete, but after playing soccer at Modesto Junior College, the opportunity presented itself. “I scored a lot of goals,” he recalled.

When he received a Division I scholarship offer to cover his tuition at Sacramento State starting in spring 2024, he had just two days to accept. He worried whether he would be able to afford moving from his parents’ house in Modesto.

“I wasn’t ready to move anywhere, but I had to just take the jump,” Reyneveld said.

At first, Reyneveld moved into a house with five guys on the soccer team. He slept in the kitchen and paid $550 a month for his share of the rent.

It felt far from a home. It was hard for Reyneveld to get enough sleep, and there were tensions among his housemates. He moved into a different house shared by more of his teammates, where he slept on a mattress in the garage for $800 a month. A full night of rest was just as hard to get as the sound of cars never stopped.

Being a student athlete required Reyneveld to juggle school, traveling for games, training and maintaining a healthy diet. But his living conditions made it hard to eat and sleep consistently.

He avoided telling trainers and staff about his living situation, recalling being “too prideful to tell anybody,” until his athletic performance deteriorated. By September 2024, his trainer pulled him aside at practice and Reyneveld told him everything.

Eli Reyneveld, a member of the Sacramento State men’s soccer team, on the university’s soccer field on Jan. 27, 2026.

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Aliza Imran

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CalMatters

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That week, Reyneveld met with Basic Needs Center staff and, that night, he was transferred into a hotel that Rapid Rehousing fully covered. Three days later, he moved into student housing where he would pay just $500 a month for five months, meals included.

“As soon as I got moved into a room, I think my coach and trainer could tell you, like, my performance is 180. I was a whole new player,” Reyneveld said.

Reyneveld moved out of student housing in February into his own apartment, where Rapid Rehousing is now paying him $200 a month for five months to help with his rent.

“I was about to turn down the scholarship to a D1 because I didn’t have the necessary means to move, but I just took a risk and (it) ended up working out because people are helping me,” he said.

Local organizations help campuses assist students

All campuses with Rapid Rehousing partner with community organizations that connect students to case managers, housing assistance, and academic and mental health support.

Long-term case management makes a big difference, according to Jessica Wolin, a public health lecturer at San Francisco State, who led the Cal State Long Beach evaluation of the program.

“Our evaluation showed the more meaningful outcomes for students who are experiencing homelessness is through this longer term, higher touch, more holistic intervention,” Wolin said. “And those needs are not met with (just) an emergency voucher.”

At Sacramento State, all students in the Rapid Rehousing program pay $500 per month toward their housing costs until they are ready for the next step. Other campuses, such as Chico State, determine students’ costs based on what they can afford. On-campus teams also work with financial aid offices to incorporate emergency grants into students’ aid packages.

Rapid Rehousing also teaches students about managing personal finances, understanding lease agreements, handling roommate conflicts, and planning for housing after graduation. Community partners work with students one semester prior to their graduation date to find housing they can afford or find relatives they can live with after graduation.

“Because these programs are (tied to enrollment), we have to make sure that we structure them so that students have some sense of urgency about the importance of working with us to find their next more permanent and stable housing that will be more long-term,” said Sacramento State Campus Wellness Director Emily Tupper.

ince 2020, Chico State’s Rapid Rehousing Program has provided over 600 students emergency shelter, transitional housing, or grants.

“A lot of students were thinking about dropping out of school and, after, they report that Rapid Rehousing has helped them stay in school,” said Chico State Basic Needs Director Leah Slem. “Our program is a lifeline to these students who possibly would have dropped out had they not received this assistance.”

When R.S., a student at Chico State who requested anonymity due to her international student status, first heard from her parents that they were on the verge of going bankrupt, she immediately went to the university’s International Student and Scholar Services office. In less than a month, she moved out of her off-campus apartment into on-campus student housing, which has been fully covered since November 2024.

With the help of her case manager, R.S. was referred to work on campus at Chico State’s Hungry Wildcat Food Pantry, which helped pay for her tuition.

International students often face unique challenges in college, Wolin said. In addition to not being able to access family support nearby, they are also not eligible for benefits like CalFresh.

“I was kind of going through a lot, but I didn’t really reach out for anything until the water almost got into my nose, and I’m like, ‘Oh no, you know, if I don’t help myself, who can help me?’’’ R.S. recalled. She urges all students to put themselves “out there” and to not be scared to ask for help.

Even with programs like Rapid Rehousing, housing insecurity still affects students across the state. As of April 2024, 1 in 5 community college students, 1 in 10 Cal State students and 1 in 20 UC students face homelessness, whereas 1 in 12 face homelessness in the general California population, according to California Competes.

From formerly homeless to doctoral dreams

The Cal State Long Beach evaluation of the Rapid Rehousing program at eight Cal States and two community colleges revealed how homelessness and housing insecurity disproportionately impacts certain student groups.

Of Cal State students, 4% identify as Black or African American, compared to 18.5% of Rapid Rehousing students. One-third of Cal State students are transfers, but transfers made up nearly half of Rapid Rehousing participants. Three-quarters of Rapid Rehousing students were first-generation, compared to a quarter systemwide. Foster youth made up 17% of the program, versus less than 1% of all students at Cal State.

Wolin said the findings reveal that “the program is reaching who they need to reach.”

As a formerly incarcerated, first-generation and transfer student at Chico State, Deleon recalled how “even having an associate’s (degree) was a big thing” for his family. He enrolled at College of the Desert to earn a 25-unit certificate in agriculture. On his first day, he recalled his professor telling him, “if you’re here for the certificate, you may as well stay for the degree.”

He completed his associate’s degree in agriculture, delivered his class graduation speech, and got accepted by all five Cal State universities he applied to. But after he left a long-term relationship at the end of that school year, he found himself homeless and couch surfing.

At Chico State, Rapid Rehousing helped Deleon remain in student housing throughout the 2024-25 school year while he worked on campus at Project Rebound, a program that supports formerly incarcerated students. In June, he moved into a shared off-campus apartment.

This fall, Deleon will be starting a master’s degree in agriculture at Chico State, and he hopes to later obtain a doctorate. If it weren’t for Rapid Rehousing, he said he doesn’t know if he would have had “the courage to stay in school.”

Deleon just returned from his first plane ride and research trip in Puerto Rico, where he saw plantain, mango, coffee berry and pineapple farms. Agriculture is what led Deleon back to school, he recalled, but Rapid Rehousing kept him in it.

“I’m planting those seeds of getting a Ph.D. now,” Deleon said. “(As) someone that’s formerly incarcerated, messed up his life before he got it back together … now that I have a second chance of getting my life right, look what I’ve done with it, with the opportunity I was given.”

Khadeejah Khan is a contributor with the College Journalism Network, a collaboration between CalMatters and student journalists from across California. CalMatters higher education coverage is supported by a grant from the College Futures Foundation.