On Friday night, techno pop remixes surged through a tight block on Santa Monica Boulevard, where hundreds of eager partygoers danced near a pop-up stage. Bass-heavy grooves echoed across neighboring streets as Beetlejuices, angels, and vampires swayed and thumped to the beat.

Oct. 31 marked the arrival of West Hollywood’s annual Halloween Carnaval, one of the county’s citywide celebrations — and one of the most anticipated for queer Angelenos. 

The first Halloween Carnaval was celebrated in 1987, and has since become one of the most awaited nights for local queer celebration. Drag performers donning elaborate costumes and glamorous makeup set the stage ablaze as they strutted, flipped their hair and danced to the cheers of a crowd that grew enormously as the night went on. The energy was infectious, and the Los Angeles Blade was on the scene to photograph some of these moments.

Image captures by Blade reporter Kristie Song.

Early yesterday morning, on National Intersex Awareness Day, West Hollywood mayor Chelsea Byers, Vice Mayor John Heilman, as well as councilmembers Danny Hang and John M. Erickson gathered to install and raise two new intersex pride flags. They fly side by side with the American flag, upholding the City of West Hollywood’s vision of solidarity between national pride and LGBTQ+ visibility. 

“We are facing unprecedented attacks on our community. It is important that we recognize the entirety of the LGBTQI+ community,” Vice Mayor John Heilman wrote to the Blade. “Intersex people have long been ignored and their issues disregarded. Raising the intersex flag also raises awareness about the challenges many intersex people face.” 

Intersex people are born with naturally occurring variations in reproductive and sexual anatomy that don’t fit into binary “male” or “female” categorizations. As Planned Parenthood details, this can look like having both ovarian and testicular tissues or having combinations of chromosomes that aren’t “male” or “female,” just to name a few. According to the Human Rights Campaign Foundation, one of the biggest issues intersex people face is non-consensual surgeries performed when they are children. These operations are considered medically unnecessary and can leave lasting physical and psychological damage on intersex youth. 

The fight for bodily autonomy and intersex visibility was the main reason behind the first action organized by intersex advocates and trans allies on Oct. 26th, 1996. Protestors stood outside the Boston Convention Centre, passed out leaflets, and spoke with clinicians, nurses, and other medical professionals attending the annual American Academy of Pediatrics conference.

One of the main leaders behind this movement was Morgan Holmes, an intersex woman who had experienced a violating medical procedure meant to “correct” her anatomy. In May of 1996, she presented testimony in a room adjacent to a symposium on genital surgery for intersex infants, a conference she and other members of her advocacy group had been rejected from. 

“What I am saying is that my medical ‘care-givers’ failed to respect my autonomy or my intelligence when they assumed that because I was a child, they could do whatever they wanted as long as my father provided his consent,” Holmes said. “And when I began to balk, instead of questioning their own treatment of me, they blamed my body, and they cut it up.” 

Today, intersex people and their stories are more broadly recognized, but still struggle to reach mainstream audiences when it comes to discussions around LGBTQ+ identity. West Hollywood city officials see this addition of intersex pride flags as a step forward. “Updating our city’s flags was my item because visibility matters,” councilmember John M. Erickson wrote to the Blade. “Intersex people have always been part of our story, and it’s time that their history, identity, and pride are recognized in the public spaces that belong to all of us.”

On Friday, Oct. 17th, West Hollywood gay bar The Abbey found itself in the center of a social media storm as clips were shared depicting the presumed presence of federal Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officers. In a video posted on Oct. 18th by Charles Hernandez, who often creates content around gay nightlife in Los Angeles, several people are seen standing in a line as they are apprehended and handcuffed by officers wearing sheriff’s vests and tees. Hernandez noted that, while dressed in varying attire with the word “sheriff” on it, none of the officers were willing to identify themselves or present their badges upon request. 

Hernandez can be heard asking the officers about the cause for arrest, to which one responded: “I don’t have to tell you our cause.” The video creator also questioned another officer, who can be seen wearing a gaiter to cover his face. “Isn’t it illegal to wear a mask in California?” Hernandez asked. “He has COVID,” an officer replied. In September, Governor Newsom signed five bills that weakened federal agents’ abilities to access school sites and health facilities, and prohibited them from hiding their identities. More specifically, SB 627 requires all California law enforcement agencies to create written policies limiting their officers’ use of facial coverings by July 1, 2026. 

As this video circulated around the web, the West Hollywood Sheriff’s Station released an online statement of their own, denying allegations that the officers present were federal immigration officers. The station also claimed that the night’s events were a result of an “undercover operation” that was conducted in response to reports made about pickpocketing and the transportation, use, and sale of illegal substances. “Several arrests were made,” the statement read. “ICE was not involved.”

Still, residents remained unconvinced, criticizing the station’s lack of transparency, careful conduct, and accountability. Over 50 people took to the comments of this statement to voice their discontent. “[It] was not that long ago when officers would raid LGBTQ spaces and arrest people simply for being there,” one comment read. “A raid such as this does not inspire feelings of safety for our community. Especially in times when people are being kidnapped off the street by masked federal agents. There simply must be a better response to pickpockets and “other criminal activity” than undercover raids by masked officers and transporting detainees in unmarked vehicles. DO BETTER.” 

Two days later, at the West Hollywood city council meeting, West Hollywood Sheriff’s Station Captain Fanny Lapkin took to the podium to address some of these concerns. Echoing the station’s Instagram statement, Lapkin confirmed that the “pre-planned operation” was created in response to “concerns from our businesses and our community in regards to the pickpocketing, to the narcotics, and also to the illegal vending and some of the criminal activity during illegal vending.” Lapkin also confirmed that no federal agents were present, stating that everyone who took part in the operation was “sheriff’s department personnel.” And because the arrests were made as part of a planned operation, Lapkin further stated that warrants were not “necessary.” 

The events were discussed with brevity at the meeting, but community ire has not been dispelled. Several people continue to question the ethics of this undercover operation: Why were the individuals being arrested not clearly told the reason for their detainment? Why were unmarked vehicles present? Why conduct the operation in this way, as Los Angeles neighborhoods continue to stay on high alert over immigration raids? These questions remain unanswered as more specifics about the operation have yet to be released.

Before Fanny Lapkin became Captain of West Hollywood Sheriff’s Station in August, she was a longtime advisor and mentor for the county’s deputy explorer program: a training and career development opportunity for young adults interested in law enforcement. “I probably had eight or nine of — I call [them] my kids,” Lapkin told the Blade. When some of these mentees became deputies, she felt like a “mama.” Lapkin brings this nurturing approach to her leadership, where she hopes to build deeper community trust and humanize her staff members. “People have the misconception that we’re machines and that we’re robots. We are human beings,” said Lapkin. 

Lapkin first ventured into law enforcement as a college student, where a casual walk into the East Los Angeles Sheriff’s Station for volunteer credit led to a seven-year-long stint. As a volunteer, she assisted deputies, participated in neighborhood watch, and became involved with safety measures for local community members. “I fell in love with the job,” said Lapkin. She officially took on a law enforcement role in 1997 and was eventually assigned to the Santa Clarita Valley’s Sheriff’s Station, where she worked as a community relations deputy. 

In 2019, Lapkin began working at the West Hollywood Sheriff’s Station, climbing the ranks as service area sergeant to service area lieutenant before her most recent promotion to station captain in August. Lapkin says that she and fellow station staff pushed for LGBTQ+ inclusive curriculum for peace officer standards and training. 

In September 2018, AB 2504 was passed, which required the state’s commission on peace officer standards and training to develop training material around LGBTQ+ identity and create inclusive workplaces. In 2024, AB 2621 was chaptered into law, which required the commission to also create and implement instruction on hate crimes against specific groups, including LGBTQ+ communities. 

Today, Lapkin hopes to continue building trust with marginalized community members, especially LGBTQ+ individuals afraid to seek help through law enforcement. The Blade sat down with the captain to discuss her perspective and approach.  

How do you hope to foster effective relationships between the sheriff’s station and community members?

Honestly, [it’s about] being available, being present. Joining Neighborhood Watch, having that open communication, making sure that you know the residents, whether it be from our LGBT community or visitors. We make sure that our deputies have the necessary training to be able to deal with different community members, whether direct leaders, whether business owners, or public safety commissions. Being available for them — I think that’s the number one thing, is just making yourself available to have those conversations. 

Also, having that transparency — if something does happen, let’s talk about what happened. In some cases, we won’t be able to discuss for obvious reasons, but it’s having that open communication and making sure that our community feels that they’re safe and that their voice is heard.

It’s having the conversation: How can we come together to find a resolution for [issues]? People come from different directions to try and resolve a problem. So my thing is, everybody has a seat at the table. From being a volunteer to a deputy to moving up the ranks, I’ve always lived by that. I’ve had amazing mentors who have always had that open-door policy, [where] every community member has a seat at the table. Come and tell us what your concerns are, and we’ll tell you how we can fix them. There are going to be times when we cannot do something about it, because it doesn’t rise to the level of a crime. But we can tell you, without giving you legal advice, how you can try to resolve something. 

How have you seen community issues and safety shift since you started working in the West Hollywood Sheriff’s station in 2019? How do you hope to address all of these shifts?

2019 kind of put us all in a bubble. But again, it’s just having that open communication and making yourself available, going to local events, participating in outreach, and just making sure that our community members, whomever they are — our Russian community, our Jewish community, our LGBT community — that they feel that they’re being heard, that we listen to them, and we understand that each of them have unique needs. So it’s trying to understand that and fostering a great environment where they’re comfortable enough to come to us, whether it be telling us how wonderful our deputies are, or also telling us they didn’t like the service that they received. 

If I get a concern, [like] somebody saying, “Well, I don’t like the way this deputy handled the call.” I look at every single body-worn camera footage. I listen to the phone calls. And if it’s something that we could do better, we fix it, right? And if it’s something that maybe was misinterpretation…I tell [deputies]: take the extra two minutes to listen to our community, because you’re going to learn something by just slowing yourself down. 

Unfortunately, our patrol deputies are under tight constraints. We are understaffed. They are working the extra overtime, but…we’re not machines, we’re not robots. We’re humans. And sometimes, the human nature kind of steps in at times. But we have to make sure that we teach them how to find the balance.

What are the unique needs and challenges West Hollywood communities face today?

The challenge is just making sure that our community trusts us [and] that our community is comfortable enough to come to us when they have a concern, when they’re victims. Especially with the LGBTQ community or even our transgender community, they’re a little nervous about going to law enforcement, or they feel that they’re going to be victimized again. That’s one thing that [we see] as a priority. We want to make sure that they don’t feel that, and that they do feel that they’re being heard, and that their safety is one of our concerns. We don’t care whether you’re LGBTQ, transgender, Jewish, or Russian — we’re going to treat you equally. If you’re a victim of a crime, we’re going to assist you and help you. I think we just want to make sure that our community members feel that they can come to us and we’re going to advocate for them, [that] we’re going to be a good partner.

What are the active ways that you and the station are building that kind of trust, specifically with LGBTQ+ and trans community members? How can they have that open dialogue with you and the station to feel safer?

Because there was a need for our transgender community…we started with a quarterly meeting, but we moved them to every six months, where we have a meeting and we invite any member of the community to come in and sit down and talk to us. We included our California Department of Justice partners. We included the trans Latina community. Our LGBTQ commission came out. 

That’s something that we’re trying to figure out. What’s going to be the best time to have these open dialogues? It’s a town hall roundtable. Tell us what your concerns are, and we’ll tell you how we can fix them.

On Saturday morning, a small crowd gathered at the top of the steps at West Hollywood Park, shading their eyes from an unrelenting sun as they flipped through materials that read “Defend Our Democracy” and “Yes on Prop 50.” West Hollywood mayor Chelsea Byers, as well as councilmembers John M. Erickson and Danny Hang, were joined by leaders and members from democratic advocacy groups like Stonewall Young Democrats, Bruin Democrats at UCLA, and Black Los Angeles Young Democrats for a canvassing session. 

The morning began with a sober confession from county assessor Jeff Prang. “I am really scared for our country right now,” he said at the event. “I do believe we’ve already gone over the tipping point…We can’t roll over and surrender when other states are cheating. Prop 50 is going to make sure that California is the leader in ensuring that we have a good chance of retaking the House next year. Hopefully, other democratic states will do the same.” 

Proposition 50, also known as the Election Rigging Response Act, is on the ballot for California’s upcoming special election on Nov. 4th. The measure was created in response to Texas lawmakers’ plans to redraw the state’s congressional districts in order to secure five more U.S. House seats for Republicans in the 2026 midterm elections. As reported by the Texas Tribune in July, this decision to redistrict resulted from direct pressure from President Trump. 

Typically, new congressional district maps are drawn every 10 years after the national census is conducted. Texas’s decision to redistrict before 2030, when the next census was to be conducted, led to strong resistance to the ethics of this decision. Prop. 50 is, to many, a way to fight back. A “yes” vote on the ballot would allow California to temporarily redistrict state boundaries to make it easier to elect more Democratic officials in the midterms. 

Canvassing efforts, like the West Hollywood action this last Saturday, are one of a few methods advocates are using to inform and have conversations with local voters about the proposition and voting procedures. “What we’re doing this weekend and until November 4th is: we’re talking to people we hope and believe will be supportive of Prop. 50, identifying them [and] making sure they know how to vote, when to vote, what to do with their ballot,” said Jane Wishon, the 51st District Chair for the Los Angeles County Democratic Party. 

Wishon walked attendees through a script to use when knocking on people’s doors. She passed out packets that detailed information about the measure, as well as specifics on mailing in ballots, checking voter registration, and locating ballot drop boxes. Wishon also offered advice on how to greet apprehensive strangers. “You especially want to be non-threatening at the door,” she instructed. “If you step back, they’ll step forward when they answer the door. Otherwise, if you’re right in their face, they’re going to hide behind the door…If you’re lucky enough to get them to have a conversation with you, please smile at everybody.”

Afterwards, attendees split off into groups and selected nearby neighborhoods using PDI Mobile, an app that allowed them to keep track of voters they had surveyed. The target for each group was 45 doors knocked on. Some arranged carpooling options while others, like Mark R. Edwards, headed for the nearest bus stop to find their chosen area. Edwards, who serves on the West Hollywood Historic Preservation Commission, reflected on a previous experience while waiting. “I historically have not canvassed because I had such a weird experience when I [did it for the] first time in Westchester for a campaign. My response rate on the doors versus other people’s…indicated what was different about me. I’m a tall Black man,” Edwards told the Blade. 

When he reached a row of homes near North Fairfax and Orange Grove Avenues, barking could often be heard from inside while front doors remained unopened. In one instance, a person listed with an address on the app was no longer living there. After a long pause, Edwards would slip information about Prop 50 nearby, propping them up on slits in gates or on tables sat in gardens. But if the canvassing itself proved fruitless at times, the event still allowed attendees a chance to learn more about the election themselves, as well as mobilize together and spark up other ways to have more conversations with the people in their lives. Another canvassing session is scheduled for Sunday, Nov. 2nd.

On Tuesday evening, hearty crowds mingled in the courtyard of the old Holloway Motel, buzzing with excitement as West Hollywood mayor Chelsea Byers took the podium. All gathered for the ribbon-cutting ceremony and an open house preview of the Holloway Interim Housing Program, the city of West Hollywood’s latest step in its five-year plan to address chronic homelessness. 

In 2022, West Hollywood received a Homekey grant of $6 million from the California Department of Housing and Community Development and purchased the property at Holloway Drive the following year, with plans to revitalize the space into a supportive facility for unhoused community members. After years of development, the Holloway Interim Housing Program is ready to open. The city is partnering with Ascencia, a nonprofit that provides services to unhoused individuals and families, which will manage daily operations at the facility and provide direct support to residents.

“This program is not just short-term housing. It’s a stepping stone towards housing, health, and stability for the long haul,” said Byers, addressing attendees. “This project is what happens when a city puts its values into action. The Holloway is a safe haven and a second chance. It’s a promise kept.” Wielding large golden scissors, Byers cut the ribbon to signal the start of the program, smiling elatedly while surrounded by fellow councilmembers and staff. 

The Holloway Interim Housing Program holds 20 private rooms, and residents will be allowed to stay for up to 90 days. As of now, program participants have to be referred by local homelessness service providers and outreach teams to be able to stay at the premises. During this time, they are connected with case managers and will receive counseling and support on healthcare, employment readiness, and pathways into securing permanent housing. Meals will be provided, and community spaces will also be available for residents to engage in workshops, recovery groups, and other communal programming together. 

“We have communities that basically respond to the homeless crisis by moving the problem to someplace else,” said California Assemblymember Rick Chavez Zbur, who was also present at the ceremony and open house. “Really, without transitional supportive housing, we don’t provide opportunities for people to move into long-term housing, and that is a key part of the building block that is underfunded and under-invested in.” 

When will the program officially welcome its first group of residents? This upcoming Monday, on Oct. 6th, Ascencia Director of Programs Marcell Mitchell told the Blade. Mitchell also explained that Ascencia hopes to keep the program at full capacity. When residents are leaving, someone else from their waiting list will be contacted to fill the space. “We’re ready to get going. We’re ready to start helping people,” Mitchell continued. “It’s definitely a good first step forward. We’ll be able to help people in the community where they’re at, get them going, and get them back to their normal lives.”

Red lights flooded the intimate space at Rocco’s WeHo Sunday night, as Anita Ward’s sultry 1979 disco hit “Ring My Bell” bewitched the dance floor. People clad in all-red leather outfits, dresses, mesh shirts, elegant gowns, and ruffled sleeves mingled and swayed their hips to the loud, thumping beat of funk-infused club classics. They were gathered together for West Hollywood’s annual Red Dress Day, a community fundraising event centering HIV/AIDS awareness.

Red Dress Day, also known as the Red Dress Party, is celebrated in cities across North America, and offers a space for new and longtime friends to commemorate the resilience of their communities, embrace queer joy, and raise funds for local organizations providing resources and services to individuals affected by HIV/AIDS. 

At this year’s West Hollywood iteration, organizer and host Billy Francesca strutted in and out of the nightclub in tall black pumps, holding the end of a long red sequined dress in one hand and a microphone in the other. Throughout the evening, Francesca greeted attendees and urged them to purchase a red wristband, which would allow them access to community drink specials at Rocco’s and other nearby bars participating in the day’s festivities. The funds from these donations were to be donated to The Wall Las Memorias (TWLM), an organization dedicated to providing inclusive and culturally-competent HIV/AIDS care to underserved Latine communities. 

TWLM offers HIV testing and counseling, peer-led support groups, consultations around health services and insurance coverage, as well as community programs and workshops around advocacy, health prevention and mental health destigmatization. 

While excitement and dance was ripe in the air, there was also discontent behind-the-scenes.

As more and more people began to trickle into Rocco’s, only a few had purchased a red wristband. “Years ago, it was like: ‘Who needs what? How can we help? What can I do?’ Now it’s like pulling teeth,” Francesca told the Blade, frustrated at the lack of concrete donation support from attendees. “It’s disheartening, because the gay community wasn’t like this when I was coming up and out. People were just more there for each other.” 

Francesca first began organizing for Red Dress Day in 2023, after the event had entered a hiatus through the pandemic. Moving forward, Francesca hopes to take a more background role in planning, stating that it’s become too much work for him. From rallying bars together and making sure drink specials were being properly distributed, to greeting attendees and making sure everything was running smoothly and on time, Francesca’s capacity has grown thin. “It just needs to be tightened up,” Francesa said, who is passing the gauntlet to Matthew Zaslow.

Zaslow, a Red Dress Day producer and founder of event planning agency Eventure Productions, is set to take on larger responsibilities for future Red Dress celebrations in West Hollywood. “I’m trying to make it a lot bigger,” Zaslow tells the Blade. “The big ones are San Diego and Palm Springs. So that’s my goal — in two or three years, to make it as big as that.”

As the event evolves, longtime attendees like Charlie McCrory are eager to continue to show up. It is an opportunity to band together in unabashed and free queer expression: to resist, to remember, and to hope. “We had to go through a lot to be here today,” McCrory told the Blade. “As a community, we’ve gone through a lot. And we need to remember that. We can’t forget it. And we need to relish, to celebrate.”

On Monday evening, West Hollywood residents packed the city’s council chambers ahead of the city council meeting. When the room opened up for public comment, several people loudly voiced their upset at the city’s decision to uphold President Trump’s recent proclamation, which ordered that U.S. flags at all public buildings and grounds be lowered to half-staff for four days following the death of Charlie Kirk. 

Kirk was killed on Wednesday, September 10th, and was a prominent right-wing political activist, public speaker, and social media figure who gained popularity by participating in political debates with college students that were shared across YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok. He founded Turning Point USA in 2012, an organization dedicated to spreading conservative ideologies amongst young people. With over 18 million followers across Instagram and X, Kirk often took to the internet to share his anti-LBGTQ+ stances. He opposed same-sex marriage, called the need for gender affirming care a “mental disorder,” and supported the burning of Pride and Black Lives Matter flags.

When West Hollywood, a city that has long been home to much of the county’s LGBTQ+ communities, complied with the proclamation to honor Kirk’s death — community members were outraged.

Local resident Shannon Axe took the podium at last night’s meeting and called the decision “devastating.” She spoke of her own experience as a transgender woman, and how she is dedicated to supporting trans youth in an increasingly difficult social climate. “For me and for many others, these flags are not just fabric. They are a lifeline,” Axe continued, as applause reverberated around the room. 

“They tell us ‘you are safe here. You are valued here. You belong here.’ To lower them in recognition of someone who has denied our humanity felt like erasing our dignity.” 

Another community member, Nik Roybal, read from a poem they wrote in light of the city’s recent action. “Government, will you own your deceit? Government, will you witness our hurt, pain, anger, sadness? Why did you lower the flags for a terrorist, a white Christian nationalist?” Roybal recited. “This flag, this brown body, will not be lowered for a terrorist who wanted me and our siblings dead. Not in our name. To a city and a people that I love — not in our name.”

After public comment concluded, city manager David Wilson echoed a sentiment from the city’s official statement: that the City’s decision to comply with the presidential proclamation was not an endorsement of Kirk’s beliefs. Rather, it was following city protocol and United States Code.

But, Wilson clarified, that even traditional customs like this should be subject to more complex consideration if they present harm to local community members. “Thoughtful consideration should be taken to update this policy,” Wilson said. “I acknowledge that this decision has caused pain and frustration for many people in our community.”

Updates to the city’s flag policy will be discussed at the October 20 city council meeting.

Homelessness in Los Angeles is not the result of personal failure. It is a predictable outcome of systemic inequities that push people to the margins while wealth and power concentrate elsewhere. Queer and immigrant communities often carry the heaviest burden. West Hollywood, long a site of queer resistance and organizing, now faces that crisis at its doorstep.

A new initiative, Holloway Kitchen, aims to respond. Proposed by Holloway Housing, the project would transform the long-vacant IHOP at 8461 Santa Monica Boulevard into more than a restaurant. It is designed as a community hub where food becomes a vehicle for structural change—offering training, jobs, and support to unhoused residents in West Hollywood.

“Holloway Kitchen is about dignity and empowerment,” said Jerry Soper III, founder of the project. “We are not just opening a restaurant; we’re creating pathways for people to build stability while being part of a community.”

The project is intended to work with residents of the nearby Holloway Interim Housing Program, managed by Ascencia, providing culinary and hospitality training through a proposed 12-week program. Graduates could secure jobs at Holloway Kitchen itself or with local partners such as SUR Restaurant, The Abbey Food & Bar, Mother Wolf, and the Hollywood Food Coalition.

Central to the vision is a commitment to those who face the steepest barriers. “LGBTQ+ youth face a 120% higher risk of homelessness,” Soper explained. “In Los Angeles, transgender individuals make up a significant portion of unsheltered populations. Holloway Kitchen aims to address these barriers with tailored support, flexible schedules for transition-related needs, and advocacy for queer youth facing housing discrimination.”

The restaurant itself would embody that same commitment to safety and affirmation. Plans include gender-neutral restrooms, a zero-tolerance harassment policy, and comprehensive LGBTQ+ sensitivity training for staff, in partnership with The Trevor Project and the Los Angeles LGBT Center. “We want every person who walks into Holloway Kitchen—whether as a trainee, employee, or customer—to feel affirmed and welcome,” Soper said.

Equally important, unhoused people will have a voice in shaping the project. Soper has convened an advisory board of Holloway House residents and alumni, including queer youth, immigrants, and trans women, to guide decisions on training, housing partnerships, and workplace culture.

Holloway Kitchen also seeks to honor West Hollywood’s legacy of queer organizing. “This project is inspired by the AIDS crisis response, when the community rallied to provide care, advocacy, and support,” Soper explained. Planned educational displays and events will highlight queer pioneers and the city’s history of resilience, blending historical reverence with forward-looking innovation.

The project is currently seeking $825,000–$1,075,000 in startup funding for renovations, staffing, and equipment, with a goal of opening in 2026. While the vision is ambitious, the City of West Hollywood underscored that it remains in the proposal stage. “The proposer has not, to date, been connected to the City, its service providers, or the property owner regarding this idea, and establishing these connections is a necessary prerequisite to consideration,” said Joshua Schare, City spokesperson. “We welcome the proposer to reach out to the City’s Human Services Division to discuss it further.”

Soper envisions the impact for participants: “In a year, a young queer person who comes to us with no job and no home could be thriving with stable employment, safe housing, and a support network. They would feel empowered to give back, becoming part of West Hollywood’s legacy of resilience.”

If successful, Holloway Kitchen could become a replicable model for addressing homelessness at the intersections of queerness, poverty, and immigration—providing a community-driven path toward opportunity where systems have historically failed. For now, it stands as a proposed initiative that seeks to reclaim power, restore dignity, and prove that survival is possible through solidarity and hope.

When the City of West Hollywood voted unanimously to join a lawsuit against Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) this July, it wasn’t just a procedural step; it was a demand for accountability. A demand to stop the illegal collaboration between local jails and federal deportation agents. A demand to end complicity in a system that disproportionately targets queer, trans, Black, brown, and immigrant lives.

The lawsuit, originally filed by the cities of El Monte and San Gabriel, challenges ICE’s use of detainer requests in California. These requests ask local jails to hold individuals past their release dates so ICE can apprehend them, often without a judicial warrant. That practice is illegal under the California Values Act (SB 54), which was passed in 2017 to prevent local law enforcement from aiding federal immigration enforcement. These detainers lead to unjust arrests and deportations, tearing apart immigrant families and communities.

“We are not going to stand by as ICE tries to continue these unconstitutional practices in our state,” said West Hollywood Mayor Chelsea Byers in an interview with the Blade. “It’s important that we call that out as illegal and take action, which is what this lawsuit is about.”

This isn’t West Hollywood’s first stand against ICE, but the decision to join this lawsuit signals a growing urgency. In recent years, anti-immigrant sentiment has become more aggressive, with far-right leaders stoking fear and fueling deportation efforts while simultaneously attacking LGBTQ+ rights. For trans and queer migrants, that double targeting has deadly consequences.

“When we think about West Hollywood’s identity as a sanctuary city, that doesn’t just mean we offer support in symbolic ways,” Byers said. “It means that we have to be active when rights are being violated, especially for LGBTQ and immigrant communities.”

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West Hollywood’s move didn’t come out of nowhere; it came from years of pressure, coalition building, and resistance led by immigrant justice organizations and trans-led groups. Two of the most influential voices behind this action are CHIRLA (the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights) and the TransLatin@ Coalition, whose work helped push this issue into the public and political spotlight.

CHIRLA’s legal team has been instrumental in challenging ICE’s detainer practices. They argue that ICE has repeatedly violated state law by issuing civil detainers without legal justification, turning local law enforcement into extensions of a federal deportation machine.

The TransLatin@ Coalition, founded and led by trans Latina immigrants, has spent over a decade building power through direct services, community organizing, and policy advocacy. They know firsthand how immigration enforcement tears apart communities and how dangerous detention is for trans people.

“This lawsuit is ultimately about dignity,” said Byers. “It’s about due process, and making sure that we don’t allow any agency—even a federal agency—to overstep the rights of individuals.”

The case against ICE is not just about technical violations of SB 54; it’s about state sovereignty and whether California’s sanctuary laws will be respected or undermined by a federal agency notorious for operating outside the law.

California’s sanctuary policies were designed to protect immigrant communities from exactly this kind of abuse. But enforcement loopholes, misinformation, and quiet cooperation between law enforcement and ICE continue to put lives at risk. This lawsuit seeks to shut those loopholes once and for all.

“This is a matter of California law being upheld. That’s why we joined this lawsuit—to make sure that ICE is held accountable,” said Byers.

As the legal fight plays out in court, West Hollywood’s action sends a clear message to other cities: you don’t get to call yourself a sanctuary if you’re silent when ICE breaks the law. It’s not enough to offer symbolic support. Real sanctuary means putting resources, legal pressure, and political will behind the people most targeted by the system.

“To the LGBTQ+ immigrants in our city, we want to send the message that you are welcome here, and that we will stand up for you.”