On a sunny afternoon near the steps that lead to the Los Angeles Federal Building, a circle of nearly 30 people — primarily women — gathers for an hour of quiet witness. The group, calling themselves the Godmothers of the Disappeared, combines spiritual practice with community advocacy outside the courthouse and detention facilities where federal immigration processes unfold. Their gatherings are both a ritual and a response to a pattern of aggressive immigration enforcement and visible military and law enforcement presence in the neighborhood.
The circle blends history, memory and direct aid. Organizers recall the site’s long and painful past: it was once Tongva land; nearby there are unmarked Tongva graves and a church with a history of colonial-era violence; a site of slave auctions sits not far away; and across the freeway is the 1871 lynching of Chinese residents. Those layers inform the group’s message that state violence and racialized harm have shaped the area for generations.
Origins and purpose of the vigil
Katharine Guerrero, who learned about the power of circle gatherings from Tongva Chicana activist Gloria Arellanes, describes the weekly meeting as an intentional counterpoint to chaotic street confrontations. Where demonstrations and rapid-response teams flash across the surrounding blocks, the godmothers offer a sustained, intentional pause — a space for remembrance, accompaniment and moral pressure.
The collective models itself after Argentina’s Las Madres de Plaza de Mayo, the women who confronted a military dictatorship to demand information about disappeared loved ones. That example guides both ritual and strategy: the Los Angeles group prays and sings not only for detainees but also as an appeal to those in uniform, hoping to shift hearts and routines through witness.
Rituals, songs and public presence
The weekly vigil often opens with interfaith prayer and readings. Participants move in quiet procession to entrances that lead to the Metropolitan Detention Center and the loading dock used to transfer people. They sing spirituals and freedom songs such as “Down by the Riverside” and “Woke Up This Morning (With My Mind Stayed on Freedom),” create litanies naming artists and organizers whose work they honor, and leave white daisies on fences as visible tokens to detainees and guards.
At one gathering, Rosa Manriquez read about Salvadoran priest Rutilio Grande, whose murder helped spur Archbishop Oscar Romero to oppose state repression. Richard Barragan prayed through a small speaker so the prayers could reach inside the detention compound. These gestures are designed as both comfort to those detained and moral reminders to the personnel managing detention.
Interfaith frame and outreach
Religious leaders such as Rev. Alexia Salvatierra emphasize that the original Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo also offered flowers to soldiers — an act that mixed compassion with demand — and that such gestures contributed to political change. The Los Angeles godmothers intentionally bring multi-faith language and nonconfrontational acts into a highly charged environment to open lines of human connection.
Material support and community impact
Beyond ceremony, the godmothers provide concrete assistance to families affected by detention. The group has raised about $22,000 to help more than 100 families pay for bail and legal expenses. Volunteers frequently encounter parents and caregivers outside the detention center who are anxious, crying and unsure how to secure counsel or cover basic costs; the godmothers aim to fill that gap.
Members also document what they see during escalations. When the occupation of federal sites intensified in June, the surrounding streets were filled with demonstrators, military units and law enforcement. Guerrero served as a volunteer medic during confrontations and remembers treating people hit by rubber bullets. In contrast, the vigil’s steady presence creates a calmer setting that keeps pressure on authorities while avoiding escalation.
Visible effect and long-term aims
Organizers report that their quiet vigil can alter the atmosphere around deployments: small gestures have produced subtle reactions from national guard and military personnel, including focused attention or reluctant looks from behind visors. The godmothers see these interactions as openings for future transformation — part of their appeal for the release of detainees, an end to divisive federal tactics, and a broader change in how enforcement treats communities of color.
The group’s mission is twofold: immediate care for families who have lost income earners to detention, and collective imagining of a different civic life after the raids and disappearances end. Through songs, flowers, fundraising and prayerful insistence, the Godmothers of the Disappeared blend activism and pastoral care in front of the Los Angeles Federal Building, offering both solace and social pressure where it is urgently needed.
Photo context: On July 29, 2026, the Godmothers of the Disappeared led an interfaith gathering outside the federal complex; they have adopted the site and leave flowers at the detention center.
