As the neighborhood changes, is it Historic Filipinotown, or just ‘HiFi’ now?

Editor’s note: This is part of our “My LA” series — a look at how changing demographics are shifting culture in LA’s historic neighborhoods and communities — told by the people from those communities.

I recently took a walk through Historic Filipinotown and was floored by something seemingly small: a nickname. The area of Los Angeles meant to honor people like my lolo and lola (grandpa and grandma) is best known these days as “HiFi.”

I found the absence of a vibrant, loud Filipino main street where merchants do business in Tagalog, Visayan, or Ilocano. But culture isn’t just defined by the language you speak. The quieter, more clinical reality is that the neighborhood is simply becoming less Filipino and less affordable.

It’s been 24 years since the city officially granted this 2.1-square-mile area, tucked between Echo Park and Silver Lake, “historic” status. It was a hard-won victory for a community displaced once before: LA’s original “Little Manila” was demolished to make way for the Civic Center and the 101 Freeway. Now, two decades later, the neighborhood is navigating a different displacement.

The area’s Filipino population has seen a  24% drop. In practical terms, it means that for every four Filipino residents who called the neighborhood home in 2012, one is gone today. That’s roughly 400 to 500 families.

The view from a sublet

Mexican American filmmaker Angela Trevino moved here in 2020, drawn by affordable rent and a central location. For her first year, she only knew it was Historic Filipinotown because of the freeway signs. The street-level reality was defined by Latino, Black and white residents. She bought Mexican candy at Lupita’s Market and pupusas at Chapinlandia, where signs were entirely in Spanish.

Filipino and Latino cultures have a shared history. Both were forged under Spanish colonialism. We share surnames — Rodriguez, Santos, Mercado — and Catholic iconography. No wonder the original Filipino residents and their Latino neighbors co-existed, sharing churches and stores. Many elders even spoke Spanish, a language still taught in many schools in the Philippines. In fact, lolo and lola are the Filipino adaptations of the Spanish words for abuelo and abuela.

It’s fitting that the two city council representatives for the district are Mexican American Hugo Soto-Martinez and Filipina American Ysabel Jurado.

But Trevino didn’t see that history. She saw gentrification. “The neighborhood seemed like a bizarre combination of hipster hot spots as you got closer to Echo Park,” she said. A year later, she moved to the San Fernando Valley, frustrated by lack of parking and vandalism. “It wasn’t until I moved away that I started to appreciate the subtle ways HiFi retained its culture through food places like The Park’s Finest and HiFi Kitchen.”

Why do they call it HiFi?

The irony of “HiFi” is that the historic designation, intended to anchor the community, has served as a beacon for gentrification. Real estate listings use the tag as a boutique descriptor for converted lofts.

The population shift is stark. In 2012, the neighborhood was roughly 60% Latino, 25% Filipino and 10% white. According to recent census data, the Latino population has dipped slightly to 56%, while the Filipino population has dropped to 19%. It’s now tied with the same percentage as white residents, who have nearly doubled.

The “HiFi” rebrand wasn’t coined by the manongs (elder Filipino workers) or aunties. It was a marketing tool embraced by former Mayor Eric Garcetti, making a working-class enclave sound like a high-end electronics center. But with a raised profile came raised rents. 

In 2012, the median rent in the neighborhood was approximately $912. By the end of 2025, that figure has climbed to an average of $2,700, with many three-bedroom units — essential for the multi-generational families common in the community — exceeding $3,900.

A craving for lumpia

On a recent visit to HiFi, I wandered past the Talang Gabay gateway and the mural in Unidad Park — a massive, vibrant tribute to Filipino labor leaders and political icons that serves as a reminder of whose shoulders this city stands on.

As I watched young professionals walk past a mural of Filipino farmworkers without a second glance, I noted to myself that the “historic” in Historic Filipinotown is doing a lot of heavy lifting.

I got a craving for lumpia — thin rice flour wrappers filled with minced pork or vegetables — and stopped by HiFi Kitchen. One bite and I instantly felt like I’d stepped back in time. “This is like eating at my lola’s table,” I thought to myself.  For a brief second I was back at there with all my cousins.

The restaurant’s founder, Justin Foronda, is a self-proclaimed “Filipino-Angeleno.” He’s a nurse-turned-chef who grew up here, long before the streets were branded by realtors as a “walkable” slice of Echo Park near Downtown Los Angeles.

“It’s safe to say the demographics are changing,” Foronda said. “I was born and raised here… one day it’s like, oh, shit, this is different now.”

Justin opened the place hoping to prove something. He had grown frustrated that HiFi felt invisible compared to Little Tokyo or Koreatown. He installed a mural that declares: “This is Historic Filipinotown.” For him, it’s a way to educate newcomers about the neighborhood’s history and cultural roots.

His recent creation — a stuffed pastry he calls a “Filipino puffy taco” inspired by the bright orange empanadas of Ilocos — is as Filipino-Angeleno as it gets. He recognizes his future was forged in a city where he speaks more Spanish than Tagalog. “Being Filipino American is its own genre,” he said.

The neighborhood’s soul remains

HiFi Kitchen is proof that despite the demographic thinning, the neighborhood’s soul remains. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through HiFi Collective, a modern hub that feels like a fortress for the community. It’s home to organizations like Search to Involve Pilipino Americans (SIPA) and the Filipino American Services Group (FASGI).

In a way, these social service offices have become the neighborhood’s nervous system. While realtors are busy rebranding the area, SIPA is busy building affordable housing and mentoring the next generation of Filipino-Angelenos. 

In their hallways, you still hear some of the languages I grew up with, and you see the “Bayanihan” spirit (the Filipino tradition of communal unity) in action. It made me realize that while the census numbers might be shrinking, the resolve of those staying behind is only getting stronger. They are the ones ensuring that “Historic” isn’t just a prefix for something that used to exist, but a promise for what will remain.

When I got back on the 101, I glanced at the Talang Gabay star in my rearview.  And I hoped we never completely forget the people who first made this neighborhood shine.