January 7th started like any other day. My granddaughter turned four, and despite a power outage that morning, her daycare birthday party went off without a hitch. But that evening, as parents arrived to pick up their kids, the power went out again. “See you tomorrow,” I told them.
By 2:30am, strong winds rattled my house, and I woke up with a deep sense of unease. I got my daughters up, packed what we could, and left for a hotel. That night, my neighbor called – my home was on fire. By the time my daughters went to check, it was too late. Everything was gone: my home and my daycare.
My name is Felisa Wright. I have been a child care provider for 15 years and an active member of SEIU Local 99 and Child Care Providers United (CCPU). I became a child care provider after being laid off from a children’s hospital, determined to be home for my daughters. For nine years, my daycare on Acacia Street became a home away from home for dozens of kids. Parents relied on me for more than child care – they trusted me to teach their children kindness, empathy, and resilience. I know how vital child care is, not just for working parents, but for shaping young lives. “We’re not just babysitters,” I always say. “We teach letters, numbers, and critical life skills. We deserve recognition and livable wages.”
Now, I’m struggling to find a new place to restart. Landlords don’t want to rent to child care providers, seeing us as a liability. But I refuse to give up, and I have the support of my community and my union members around me. Any information I get, I share with my network of women and child care providers in the area. A couple of them have lost their homes too. I just try to encourage them that it's going to be alright. We're going to get through this. It will be okay. The community has really come together, and it just touches my heart.
On February 7th, I returned to the remains of my home and once-bustling daycare for the first time. In front of the remains, local child care providers who also lost their homes to the Eaton Fire and I held a news conference calling on Governor Newsom to extend fire relief for child care providers and the families who count on us. The conference came one day after California’s 30-day emergency relief for child care providers abruptly ended, leaving little help for more than 180 providers who cannot reopen due to complete or severe destruction of their homes. In addition to our livelihoods, these are our homes, as well as the daycares for more than 1,500 children, adding to the trauma and loss they are already experiencing.
Without additional state support, I fear many child care businesses will disappear, putting providers – a majority of us Black and Brown women – out of work and making it impossible for working parents to return to work.
Here’s what we need you to do: Share our story and call on Gov. Newsom to extend relief for child care providers affected by the fires!
I wasn’t the only one impacted by or working through the fires. Everywhere I looked, I saw people holding their communities together, whether it was in child care, home care, education, or fast food. These are their stories:
Michelle, Home Caregiver, SEIU Local 2015
For Michelle, staying calm was the only option. When the evacuation orders came, she was responsible for getting her bedbound, oxygen-dependent client to safety. Emergency responders were still far away. She had no time to wait.
When glass shattered and thick black smoke filled the air, Michelle sealed the doors with wet towels to keep the air breathable. She coordinated with another caregiver, gathering medications, important documents – anything they might need. Then she saw the oxygen tanks. She knew the risk. One spark could set off an explosion. She moved six tanks out of the home, one by one.
Fire spread across the street. She ran up and down stairs, reinforcing windows with furniture, bracing against the winds. “I was exhausted, emotionally and physically. It felt like we were the only ones here. I said, Lord, please give me strength, because I was tired.” For what felt like an eternity, help didn’t come.
Michelle shares that she did what she knew to do from her previous training at a hospital. “It would be great to have more training on the impacts of climate change and disaster relief because some people may not know what to do in these situations. Many people just don't know.”
As a caregiver, when it mattered most, love and determination made all the difference. When rescuers finally arrived, her client made it out. Unfortunately, a few days later, Michelle sat beside her client in her final moments – she did not survive the impact of the black smoke. “In times of crises like these, it takes a special person to do what we do. I cherish what I do. And I love my clients just like they're mine. That’s how I feel,” says Michelle.
Fabrizio, Special Education Assistant, SEIU Local 99
Fabrizio had just transferred from the Valley to Region West when the fires hit. Suddenly, he was working with kids from Palisades School – children who had lost everything overnight. They were displaced, confused, trying to make sense of a world that had shifted under their feet.
At Brentwood Elementary, he saw how quickly the school had to adapt. It wasn’t just about making space; it was about making these kids feel safe. His job became more than schedules and routines. It was about building community. The students from Brentwood and Palisades came from different backgrounds, economically and culturally, but now they had to learn together, to share, to coexist.
Beyond that, he had to keep them physically safe. The fires had left the air thick with pollution. Outdoor play wasn’t an option, so Fabrizio helped create indoor spaces where kids could still have fun, still be kids, despite everything happening outside.
“It was challenging,” he says. “But in those moments, I wasn’t just an educator. I was a steady hand, a reassuring voice, a stabilizing force in their lives.”
“My work matters. In our union, we serve our communities, and we are fighting for frontline workers like ourselves,” Fabrizio concludes.
Raul, Fast Food Worker, California Fast Food Workers Union
Just weeks before the fires, Raul had already faced a nightmare on the job. Armed intruders charged into his fast food restaurant, a Carl's Jr. in Santa Clarita, pointing a gun at his manager’s head. He stood there helpless, watching it unfold. The image of the gun haunted him for nights after.
Then the wildfires came. Raul, his wife, and their 12-year-old daughter had to evacuate with no idea when they’d be able to return. His twin daughters, away at college, had to stay behind. The fires knocked out power, forcing the restaurant to close. But as soon as electricity was back, his boss called. Even under evacuation orders, Raul and two co-workers were expected to show up.
Smoke filled the air. The fire felt too close. With hotels full and evacuation centers packed, Raul and his family had nowhere to go. They found refuge sleeping in their car at a mall parking lot among other evacuees. And still, when asked to go back to work the next day amidst the smoke that would surely affect his health in the long run, he clocked in, afraid to lose the paycheck he needed to survive.
He knew it wasn’t right to be called into work while under evacuation orders.
“I am in the union because workers need to be heard,” Raul says. “Our lives and our family are the utmost important. Our rights exist, even in times of crisis, and we should feel prepared to exercise them.”
No one should have to choose between their safety and a paycheck. But without a union, too many workers face that impossible choice alone.“But we are the union. We’re not going to stop fighting until all workers have access to a union and know their rights. We are not alone,” Raul concludes.
As frontline workers, the fires left a devastating impact. For some, it meant losing everything. For others, it meant working through the smoke, keeping schools running, protecting the most vulnerable, and holding communities together.
This is what we saw. This is what we lived through. We are the backbone of Los Angeles, keeping this city and county going in the most devastating circumstances. And we are union members. We stand strong for the communities we serve. This is why we fight for Unions For All – not just to rebuild our neighborhoods, but to make sure that next time, workers like myself, Fabrizio, Michelle, Raul, and so many others don’t have to do it alone. In our union, we can demand more for all working families everywhere.
