I was born in Beirut, Lebanon, but I’m Armenian. I was five months old when I moved to the U.S. We flew straight to L.A.—to Glendale, where the Armenians were. I run the Abril bookstore in Glendale. It’s such an important place. When you are not in your home country, you lose your language and your culture. This is one of the last places where people can come and read in Armenian.

It’s all immigrants here in Los Angeles, and that’s the beauty of it. I remember when I first travelled around the United States, I took a train, and I missed L.A. for the first time ever. I missed its diversity. The diversity felt like home. Since Trump became president, I feel uneasy. When he was running for president, it really affected me when he started talking about Mexicans and calling them rapists, and when he banned Muslims.

Armenians have gone through genocide. My grandparents were in Adana, where the first massacres happened. If you look at the newspapers from before those massacres, there were these tensions, where Turkish leaders started speaking and targeting Armenians with hate speech. Eventually it became normal to target Armenians, and violence against them became OK. No one stood up for them.

I’m surprised that more Armenians haven’t stood up for Mexicans and Muslims. I feel it’s our duty. I organized a protest against hate speech, and it was the only one in Glendale. I got a lot of resistance. There are a lot of conservative Armenians, and they got scared.

I think the Armenian community is split on Trump, and it’s unfortunate. The big thing that everyone was waiting on is if Trump was going to recognize the genocide as what it is: a genocide. But he hasn’t. I’m hoping that something will happen that will oust Trump, with all of this stuff going on right now. I still can’t believe he’s the president.

I was born in L.A., but I moved to the Philippines when I was one, and came back when I was 17. I consider myself from the Philippines. I’m a nurse. You know? Like the joke of all Filipinos being nurses?

I stopped believing in Catholicism when I moved back here as a teenager. The U.S. opened my eyes, which is a big thing since the Philippines are so religious.. I didn’t get politically conscious until I heard about Walmart not paying their employees overtime. I really got into Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren.

I bet you’ve heard about Rodrigo Duterte? The president of the Philippines? The guy who wants to kill everyone? Well, I’m more concerned with what’s going on here than what’s going on in my home in the Philippines. Trump is worse. It is very sad for me to have to compare our American government with a third-world country like the Philippines. Nepotism is the norm in the Philippines, but in the U.S. it shouldn’t be this way.

Trump changed my views on being an immigrant for the better. I’m more proud of my heritage than before Trump was president. Getting constantly treated as a second-class citizen because I am an immigrant and hearing people say, “You don’t deserve to be here!” has made me want to fight. It has made me more proactive, and made me want to find ways to prove these people with those ideas wrong. Everyone deserves a chance to better their lives.

Trump is propagating race wars and you would think that America had smart people, but I guess not.

It’s comfortable being an immigrant in Los Angeles. I’ve been in the U.S. for 18 years, and here since 2005. There is a giant Russian community here. When I feel homesick, I go to a Russian grocery store or Little Odessa in Santa Monica Boulevard. It feels good here. I love being around different people and love having friends from all different backgrounds.

Things haven’t changed for me personally, necessarily, since Trump got elected. But I do sympathize with all of the people who are affected. I filed a petition to bring my brother to this country, as a relative, back in 2004. He just got approved a few months ago for his interview to get his visa. Now I’m concerned about what kind of work he is going to be able to get as an immigrant, under Trump. I’m also worried about what kind of life he is going to have here.

It’s depressing and sad. I’ve always been a big supporter of Planned Parenthood because when I first came to this country, without my permanent residency status, that was the place where I would get treatment for free. After I became a citizen, I started making donations to them. What’s happening now makes me sad for the women who are going to be deprived of the same help that I got.

I had my baby on November 2nd, so she was a few days old when Trump became president. We were initially excited to have a daughter born into a world with a woman president. At the end of the night, we turned the TV off. We didn’t want to hear another thing of him winning.

The Russian meddling is embarrassing, for both sides. Putin is such a terrible person and we suddenly have Trump. I was recently in Europe and people made fun of us, asking us “Did you vote for Trump?” It’s just an uncomfortable conversation, always. The future is going to be scary, not just for us but for the whole world.

I was born in Apopa, San Salvador, El Salvador. I came to the U.S. when I was about three months old. My dad had been in the military and when he met my mom, she said, “You can’t be in the military anymore! It’s us or them.” My dad said, “That’s easy, you!” Then my dad started to get death threats from his former colleagues.

We arrived in 1988. It took a month to get to L.A. We came by way of Arizona. Out of the group of 30 people who started the journey, only half made it. At one point, our coyote told my mom, “You should wait until your daughter is older. You’re putting us all at risk.” My mom told me that she hoped I didn’t cry along the way. There was this one time, it was really dark, they were hiding from some guards, and she had the blanket over my face.

I was naturalized when I turned 18. I remember what I was wearing. There was this long line. It hit me: I’ve been afraid my whole life.

Since Trump became President, what’s changed for me is resilience. Folks out there who don’t get it, just let them be. It’s not worth your energy. I’m not afraid to look racism in the face and still do what I’m going to do. I’m going to persevere and champion my community. I live in West Adams, close to El Salvador Corridor. I am the Director of Community Programs for With Love Market and Cafe in South L.A. I’m also writing a Salvadoran cookbook.

I feel good about the future because I’m in L.A. It’s as much a safe haven as it was when my parents arrived.

I was born in Hong Kong when it was still a British colony, in 1970. I lived there until I was 12, and then I moved to the U.S. I’ve never really experienced racism here in L.A. Maybe I’ve blocked it out. Sure, you may be walking down the street and someone shouts something at you—but for me, that’s not racism, that’s just an idiot walking down the street. Racism, for me, is a lot more structural.

We have a history of exclusion, racism, gentrification, and capitalism in the U.S. Trump did not bring them to the table. What’s changed for me is that before the election, I had this idea that most people felt the way that I did. This did not turn out to be the case. For a few months after the election, when I saw a white person walking the street, I wondered, “What does he feel?” Knowing this felt emotionally different. It almost felt like our country died.

When I’m in a good mood, I think this is white supremacy’s last gasp, a reaction to gains that we have made. In politics, you never really win outright. You win some and then your opposition pushes back harder, and you have to push back even harder. I sit on the board of a Cambodian youth organization. I told them, “This is really your fight!”

I had my chance. Remember the ‘90s in California? We had Pete Wilson and Prop 187. A lot of this racism stuff started here. I may not have been at risk of being brutalized by the L.A. police, but seeing Rodney King and how clear it was that cops overstepped their boundaries made our city’s problems a matter of right or wrong for me, not a matter of “Oh, that can’t happen to me.”

I like to think that the demographics are on our side. The country is only going to get browner. I think the conversation is going to have to change. I’m actually really hopeful for the long-term future.