ICE and the Department of Homeland Security are staging a federal crackdown, and for many of us who grew up in this city—especially Black and brown natives—this isn't just about what's happening today. It's about everything our bodies have already lived through.

It’s about Watts in 1965.
It’s about the uprising in ‘92.
It’s about Florence & Normandie.
It’s about helicopters hovering over South Central.
It’s about protests at City Hall.
It’s about standing in the street chanting names we shouldn't have to say.
It’s about the heat of burning buildings and the chill of being unheard.

When people talk about inner child work, they often picture a small child—innocent, curious, maybe hurt or scared. But there’s another powerful voice inside many of us that doesn’t get as much attention: the inner teen.

The inner teen is bold. Sensitive. Sarcastic. Exhausted. She might roll her eyes when someone says, “You’re doing great!” or slam the door when a boundary is crossed. He might rebel against rules, not because he’s defiant, but because no one ever let him choose his own path. They might flirt, over-share, ghost everyone, numb out, or people-please like a pro. Not because they’re dramatic—but because it was never safe to just be.