Should Los Angeles Remain a Sanctuary City?

I was coming out of a lovely restaurant in Downtown L.A.—Le Petit Paris. My Uber was waiting across the street, annoyingly parked on the wrong side of a one-way road. As I approached, a homeless man was shouting at the car. The driver didn’t move. Did he not realize I would have to walk right past a screaming, clearly distressed man just to get in?

View of Los Angeles

As soon as I closed the door, the driver apologized. He wasn’t sure he should even be driving. After his last ride in Old Town Pasadena, a homeless man had thrown something at his car, damaging it. He was still shaken. A few weeks earlier, someone had hurled a brick—or something like it—through his parked car window. For someone who drives full-time for rideshare, every dent or crack isn’t just an inconvenience; it’s a financial crisis.

As an Angeleno, I’m often told I’m a rarity—I don’t drive. I gave up my car and license over a decade ago. I walk, take the Metro, and use rideshare. In many ways, I see more of this city than most. And what I see both fills me with love and breaks my heart. Because Los Angeles, for all its beauty, has lost its civility.

To me, civility is more than politeness. It is mindfulness. It is a deliberate regard for others.

Los Angeles stretches forty-four miles north to south and twenty-nine miles east to west. It is home to more than 46,000 unhoused people—many without access to clean water, toilets, or even shoes. The “fortunate” ones live in tents. Others sleep behind dumpsters, on bus benches, in subway stations, or on soiled mattresses in the street. They dig through trash cans for food and drink, some barely clothed, some barefoot. Calling this a “public health hazard” feels like a cruel understatement. It is inhumane.

The situation is so dire that the city has been under a state of emergency on housing and homelessness.

And yet, government agencies and NGOs continue to welcome and provide resources to immigrants who have unlawfully entered the country, many bused here from Texas—while tens of thousands already here remain without basic care. It’s not easy to criticize compassion—but I felt betrayed and confused watching city officials and volunteers greet the new arrivals with open arms and services. Shouldn’t those same services—funded by taxpayers—have been offered the day before to people sleeping behind trash bins, under bridges, or on sidewalks? Shouldn’t we first tend to the people already suffering in our streets before extending help to others arriving from elsewhere?

If there are funds to help newcomers, shouldn’t those funds first go to the tens of thousands living in inhumane conditions right here?

It is easy to say, “We are a sanctuary city.” It sounds noble. It feels righteous. But when I see people digging through trash, sleeping on soiled mattresses surrounded by filth, I can’t help but feel that our so-called sanctuary is, at best, obtuse—and, at worst, cruel.

We are not Jesus. We cannot feed five thousand with five loaves and two fish. The truth is, we can’t help everyone. Our social services have been failing for decades. Our NGOs are overwhelmed. The demand for housing, medical care, and financial aid already far exceeds available resources. And yet, Los Angeles keeps declaring itself a haven for more people in need.

Being a sanctuary city is not just about refusing to cooperate with federal deportation efforts. True sanctuary means being able to provide the resources necessary for people to survive and rebuild. We already know we can’t.

In a city where the elderly are being pushed onto the streets by rising housing costs, how can it be “the right thing” to invite more people who will also need affordable housing? Isn’t that a modern echo of Marie Antoinette’s “Let them eat cake”? It is easier—politically and socially—to say “everyone is welcome” than to make the uncomfortable admission that we simply cannot help everyone.

There are over 300 cities in the U.S. with populations over 100,000—and more than a thousand cities altogether. Sometimes, true leadership means standing up and saying no. It means leaving the table so someone else has a place to sit.

Los Angeles must face the stench of its own inhumanity. Taking in more people in need while 40,000 of our own languish on sidewalks is not compassion—it’s negligence.

It’s time to stop saying what sounds socially correct and start doing what is morally right. Only when we restore dignity to the people already suffering in our streets can we truly call ourselves a sanctuary city.

More essays:

Barbie, Margot & Greta… Thank You, but No Thank You

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Can There Be Such a Thing as Humanity in War?

And Just Like That, It Isn’t Easy Being Us

Donald Trump and His 74 Million American Voters

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