The Brief

“Congratulations. You’re an American citizen.”

I was in the Federal Building downtown when an immigration official said those words to me. They caught me by surprise.

I thought I was supposed to hear them in a big naturalization ceremony, the one with hundreds of people, where they say how many different nationalities are represented and everyone cries. Not here, in a small, slightly cluttered office.

“No, we stopped doing those during Covid, and it’s pretty much stayed that way," the official explained. "You can go downstairs and take the oath here.”

“That’s so great!" I said giddily. "You see, I love America!”

Those words came to me spontaneously, from a deep unacknowledged place. I was finally joining the tribe after living here with a green card. I hadn’t had time to prepare, to ready myself. So this was a raw, unfiltered reaction. And it surprised me.

I do love America though. While I’m now a dual citizen, of both the U.K. and the U.S., my love for America runneth over.

I love its can-do spirit, its freedoms, its willing acceptance that the pursuit of happiness is so important it’s in the constitution. That’s crazy! In the U.K., pursuit of happiness would be ranked slightly lower, probably below the right to complain about the weather, or the joy of standing in line (nothing better for the British soul).

But happiness — as my British grandma once said to me — who said anything about happiness?

Flags everywhere

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I love the essential sunniness of the American psyche. The feeling that anything can happen if you so will it. That tradition doesn’t necessarily get in the way of innovation. That the future is wide and beckoning, and while the past got us here, it doesn’t necessarily show us the way forward.

Striving for an ideal

It may not manifest itself every day, or for every person, but there’s a striving here, an ideal.

In Britain, it’s rolled up in the symbol of the monarchy, of whom you are a subject (stated in your passport). But there’s no written constitution in the U.K. Just thousands of years of history. And while Brits know they like to play by the rules, value fairness and root for the underdog, it’s just not spelled out the way it is here.

Brits also don’t pledge allegiance to anything, and certainly not in the mornings at school. On my daughter’s first day of school, over a decade ago, everyone, parents and children and teachers, stood together in the playground with hand over heart and recited the Pledge of Allegiance. I was shocked. It was just so … naked. Overt.

But that day, listening to the words, I realized that you pledge allegiance not to a person, but to a republic. One nation, indivisible. It seemed impossibly noble, romantic and moving.

It still felt very strange though. Not something I could see myself doing.

At least not then.

There are thousands of ways to feel American

You don’t just flip a switch internally when you become a citizen. Boom, one minute you’re British and the next you’re American.

I’ve had to feel my way through it. Wait, am I really American? Do I feel American? Should I somehow love apple pie? Buy a cowboy hat? Love football? (The American kind. Whoops, an American wouldn’t say that. Must work on that.)

It’s an individual thing, I know. There are naturalized citizens who proudly walk around with the Constitution in their pocket. Others who thrill at the endless choices in the supermarket. Or the astonishing right to wear athleisure wear whenever you get the urge. Myriad versions of identity.

Taking the oath

After my immigration interview, I was sent down to the first floor, to an area with a few rows of seats which looked and felt like an airport gate.

There were about 30 of us, from different countries in Asia, Latin America, Eastern Europe and the Middle East. As we sat, and people started chatting in their native languages, I marveled. How can all of us, with different cultures and backgrounds, now call ourselves American? How does that happen? And how can a country be built around such an idea, stretching back to my English puritan forebears?

I saw one man still clutching his revision notes for the civics test, written in a language I didn’t recognize. Armenian? Farsi? It was extraordinary.

Somehow all these people had decided that there was something better here than in the country they’d grown up in, brought themselves over, and begun a life from scratch.

In all the talk about immigration, legal and illegal, that drive is still astonishing, one that Americans born here take for granted.

We were all asked to stand, raise our right hands and take an oath of allegiance to the U.S.

This wasn’t the Pledge of Allegiance, which I’d by now carefully learned. This was different, a solemn oath, asked of all naturalized citizens. To defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and take up arms if asked. It was somber and affecting. And while it wasn’t the big ceremony I’d expected, everyone cried.

When I got home, my husband asked what I wanted for dinner that night to celebrate my new status. I asked for meatloaf and mashed potatoes, my favorite American meal. It was delicious.

Yes, I should have had apple pie and ice cream for dessert as well. But becoming an American takes time, people. And I was still going to have a bath and a cup of tea. Habits die hard.

This story first appeared on The LA Local.

Since 1977, Richard Santillan has been to every Opening Day game at Dodger Stadium. 

“The tradition goes from my father, to me, to my children and grandchildren. Some of my best memories are with my father and children here at Dodger Stadium,” Santillan told The LA Local, smiling under the shade of palm trees near the entrance to the ballpark Wednesday morning. He was there to protest the team less than 24 hours before Opening Day.

Santillan, like countless other loyal Dodgers fans, is grappling with his fan identity over the team’s decision to accept an invitation to the White House and owner Mark Walter’s ties to ICE detention facilities.

More than 30 people joined Santillan on Wednesday morning for a press conference held near 1000 Vin Scully Drive to convey a message directly to the team. 

“We are demanding the Dodgers stop participating in funding of inhumane treatment of families and do not go to the White House to celebrate with the criminal in chief,” Evelyn Escatiola told the crowd. “Together, we have the power to make a change.”

Escatiola, a former dean of East Los Angeles College and longtime community organizer, urged fans to flex their economic power by “letting the Dodgers know that we do not support repression.”

Jorge “Coqui” Rodriguez, a lifelong Dodgers fan, spoke to the crowd and called on Dodgers ownership to divest from immigration detention centers owned and operated by GEO Group and CoreCivic.

Jorge Coqui H Rodriguez speaks at a press conference outside Dodger Stadium on March 25, 2026, to demand the Dodgers not to visit the White House following their 2025 World Series win.

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J.W. Hendricks

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The LA Local

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In a phone interview a day before the protest, Rodriguez told The LA Local he did not want the Dodgers using his “cheve” or beer money to fund detention centers. 

“They can’t take our parking money, our cacahuate money, our cheve money, our Dodger Dog money and invest those funds into corporations that are imprisoning people. It’s wrong,” Rodriguez said. 

Rodriguez considers the Dodgers one of the most racially diverse teams and said the players need to support fans at a time when heightened immigration enforcement has become more common across L.A.

The team’s 2025’s visit to the White House drew ire from the largely Latino fan base, citing the Trump administration’s ongoing attacks on immigrants. 

In June, the team came under further scrutiny when rumors swirled online that federal immigration agents were using the stadium’s parking, which immigration authorities later denied in statements posted on social media accounts.

The team again came under fire after not releasing a statement on the impacts of ICE raids on its mostly Latino fan base at the height of immigration enforcement last summer. The team later agreed to invest $1 million to support families affected by immigration enforcement.

When he learned the Dodgers were pledging only $1 million to families in need, Rodriguez called the amount a  “slap in the face.” 

“These guys just bought the Lakers for billions of dollars and they give a million dollars to fight for legal services? That’s a joke,” Rodriguez said. “They need to have a moral backbone and not be investing in those companies.”

According to reporting from the Los Angeles Times, former Dodgers pitcher Clayton Kershawsaid last week that he is looking forward to the trip.

“I went when President [Joe] Biden was in office. I’m going to go when President [Donald] Trump is in office,” Kershaw said. “To me, it’s just about getting to go to the White House. You don’t get that opportunity every day, so I’m excited to go.”

The Dodgers have yet to announce when their planned visit will take place. 

Santillan sometimes laments his decision to give up his season tickets in protest of the team. His connection to the stadium and the memories he has made there with family and friends will last a lifetime, he said. On Thursday, he will uphold his tradition and be there for the first pitch of the season, but with a heavy heart.

“It’s a family tradition, but the Dodgers have a lot of work to do,” he said.

A local favorite mom-and-pop bookshop in Eagle Rock is facing displacement due to a steep rent hike. The owners say theirs is just one of several small businesses along Eagle Rock Boulevard struggling to keep up with lease increases.

Over the past 19 years, many in the neighborhood have come to love READ Books for its eclectic collection of used titles and shop dog Florence.

Co-owner Jeremy Kaplan said it’s been a delight to grow with the community over the years.

“Like seeing kids come back in, who were in grade school and now they’re in college,” Kaplan said.

But the building where Kaplan and wife Debbie rent was recently sold, and the rent increased by more than 130% to $2,805 a month, Kaplan said. He told LAist it was an increase his small business simply could not absorb.

Kaplan said he originally was given 30 days notice of the rent increase. After some research, assistance from Councilmember Ysabel Jurado’s office and some pro-bono legal help, Kaplan said he pushed back and got the 90-day notice he’s afforded by state law.

California Senate Bill 1103 requires landlords to give businesses with five or less employees 90 days’ notice for rent increases exceeding 10%, among other protections.

Systems Real Estate, the property management company, did not immediately respond to LAist’s request for comment.

What can small businesses do? 

Nadia Segura, directing attorney of the Small Business Program at pro bono legal aid non-profit Bet Tzedek said California law does not currently allow for rent control for commercial tenancies.

Outside of the protections under SB 1103, Segura said small businesses like READ Books don’t have much other recourse. And even then, commercial landlords are not required to inform their tenants of their protections under the law.

“There’s still a lot of people that don’t know about SB 1103. And then it’s very sad that they tell them they have these rent increases and within a month they have to leave,” Segura said.

She said her group is seeing steep rent hikes like this for commercial tenants across the city.

“We are seeing this even more with the World Cup coming up, the Olympics coming up. And I will say it was very sad to see that also after the wildfires,” Segura said.

Part of Bet Tzedek’s ongoing work is to advocate for small businesses, working with landlords who are increasing rents to see if they are willing to give business owners longer leases that lock in rents.

What’s next 

After READ Books posted about their situation on social media, commenters chimed in to express their outrage and love for the little shop.

While he looks for a new spot, Kaplan says he’s forming a coalition of local businesses and activist groups to see what can be done to help other small businesses facing similar displacement. He wants to address the displacement issue for businesses like his, which have made Eagle Rock the distinctive neighborhood that it is today.

Owl Talk, a longtime Eagle Rock staple selling clothing and accessories in a unit in the same building as READ Books, is facing a “more than double” rent increase, according to a post on their Instagram account.

Kaplan said he’s been in touch with the office of state Assemblywoman Jessica Caloza and wants to explore the possibility of introducing legislation to set up protections for small businesses like his, including rent-control measures or a vacancy tax for landlords. Kaplan said he also reached out to the office of state Sen. Maria Durazo.

By his count, Kaplan said there are about a dozen businesses within surrounding blocks that are at risk of closing their doors or have shuttered due to rent increases or other struggles.

When READ Books was founded during the Great Recession, Kaplan said he knew it was a longshot to open a bookstore at the same time so many were struggling to stay in business.

“It was kind of interesting to be doing something that neighborhoods needed. That was important to me growing up, that was important to my children, that was important to my wife growing up,” Kaplan said.

“And then somebody comes in and says, ‘We’re gonna over double your rent.”

Topline:

Frozen budget: Most of the city’s Bureau of Street Lighting budget comes from an assessment that people who own property illuminated by lights pay on their county property tax bill. The amount people pay depends on the kind of property they own and how much they benefit from lighting. A typical single-family home currently pays $53 annually, and in total, the assessments bring in about $45 million annually for the city to repair and maintain streetlights. Changing the amount the Bureau of Street Lighting gets from the assessment requires a vote among property owners who benefit from the lights.

Ballots: L.A. City Council’s vote gives city staff the green light to prepare and send out those ballots. Miguel Sangalang, who oversees the bureau, said at a committee meeting earlier this month that he expects to send out ballots by April 17. Notices about the ballots will be sent out prior to the ballots themselves.

Near unanimous vote: L.A. City Councilmember Monica Rodriguez was the only “No” vote Tuesday, saying she wanted to see a more current strategic plan for the bureau. Sangalang said the bureau developed a plan in 2022 that lays out how money will be spent. Councilmember Imelda Padilla was absent for the vote.

Vote count: Votes will be weighted according to the assessment amount. Basically, the more you’re asked to pay yearly to maintain streetlights, the more your vote will count. Ballots received before June 2 will be tabulated by the L.A. City Clerk.

How much more money: According to a report, the amount needed in assessments from property owners to meet the repair and maintenance needs of the city’s streetlighting in the next fiscal year is nearly $112 million.

Use of the money: Sangalang said at a March 11 committee meeting that the extra funds would be used to double the number of staff to handle repairs and procure solar streetlights, which don’t face the threat of copper wire theft. That would all potentially reduce the time it takes to repair simple fixes down to a week. Currently, city residents wait for months to see broken streetlights repaired. The assessment would come with a three-year auditing mechanism.