Mexican

The House of Pies, a Los Feliz institution, is bustling on a chilly January morning.

It wouldn’t be shocking if some of the patrons here for breakfast were casually chit-chatting about the cultural behemoth that “KPop Demon Hunters” has become. After all, the 2025 animated saga about three music stars fighting otherworldly foes is now the most-watched movie ever on Netflix; “Golden,” its showstopping track, has since become the first Korean pop song to ever win a Grammy.

But for Danya Jimenez, 29, who sits across from me sipping coffee, the reception to the movie she began writing on back in 2020 isn’t entirely surprising, but certainly delayed.

“When we first started working on it, I was like, ‘People are going to be obsessed with this. It’s going to be the best thing ever,’” she recalls. But as several years passed, and she and her writing partner and best friend Hannah McMechan, 30, moved on to other projects. They weren’t sure if “KPop” would ever see the light of day. Production for animation takes time.

It wasn’t until she learned that her Mexican parents were organically aware of the movie that Jimenez considered it could actually live up to the potential she initially had hoped for.

“Without me saying anything, my parents were like, ‘People are talking about this’ — like my dad’s co-workers or my aunt’s friends — that’s when I started to realize, ‘This might be something big,’” she says.

“But never in my life did I think it would be at this scale.”

“KPop Demon Hunters” is now nominated for two Academy Awards: animated feature and original song. And that’s on top of how ubiquitous the characters — Rumi, Mira and Zoey — already are.

“Everyone sends me photos of knockoff ‘KPop Demon Hunters’ dolls from across the border,” Jimenez says laughing. “My friend got me a shirt from Mexicali with the three girls, but they do not look anything like themselves. She even got my name on it, which was awesome.”

After graduating from Loyola Marymount University in 2018, Jimenez and McMechan quickly found their footing in the industry, as well as representation. But it was their still unproduced screenplay, “Luna Likes,” about a Mexican American teenage girl obsessed with the late chef and author Anthony Bourdain, that tangentially put them on the “KPop” path.

“Luna Likes” earned the pair a spot at the prestigious Sundance Screenwriters Lab, where Nicole Perlman, who co-wrote “Guardians of the Galaxy,” served as one of their advisors. Perlman, credited as a production consultant on “KPop,” thought they would be a good fit.

Jimenez didn’t see the connection between her R-rated comedy about a moody Mexican American teen and a PG animated feature set in the world of K-pop music, but the duo still pitched. Their idea more closely resembled an indie dramedy than an epic action flick.

“If [our version of ‘KPop’] were live-action, it would’ve been a million-dollar budget. It was the smallest movie ever. Our big finale was a pool party,” Jimenez says. “We had all of the girls and the boys with instruments, which obviously is not a thing in K-pop, and everyone was making out.”

Even though their original pitch wouldn’t work for the film, Maggie Kang, the co-director and also a co-writer, believed their voices as two young women who were best friends, roommates and creative collaborators could help the movie’s heroines feel more authentic.

“Maggie had already interviewed all of the more established writers, especially older men,” Jimenez says. “She knows the culture. She knew K-pop, she’s an animator. She just needed the girls’ voices to come through, so I think that’s why we got hired.”

Kang confirms this via email: “It’s always great to collaborate with writers who are the actual age of your characters! Hannah and Danya were exactly that,” she says. “They were very helpful in bringing a fresh, young voice to HUNTR/X.”

Neither Jimenez nor McMechan were K-pop fans at the time. As part of their research, they both started watching K-pop videos, but it was McMechan who got “sucked into the K-hole” first. Still, it didn’t take long until the video for BTS’ “Life Goes On” entranced Jimenez.

“K-pop is a river that you fall into, and it just takes you,” Jimenez says. BTS and Got7 are her favorite groups. For McMechan, the ensemble that captivates her most is Stray Kids.

In writing the trio of demon hunters, the co-writers modeled them after themselves. The characters’ propensity for ugly faces, silliness and a bit of grossness too, stems from the portrayals of girlhood and young womanhood that appeal to them. Jimenez, who says she was an angsty teen, most closely identifies with the rebellious Mira.

“I have a monotone vibe,” says Jimenez. “People always think that I’m a bitch just because I have a resting bitch face,” she says. “But as you can see in the movie, Mira cares so much about having everyone be really close. I feel like that’s how I’m with all my friends.”

Characters with strong personalities that are not simplistically likable feel the truest to Jimenez. In “Luna Likes,” the prickly protagonist is directly inspired by her experiences growing up, as well as the bond she shared with her dad over Bourdain’s “Parts Unknown” show.

“There’s a pressure to show that Mexicans are nice people and we’re hard workers. I was like, ‘Let’s make her kind of bitchy and very flawed,’” Jimenez says about Luna. “She’s a teenager in America and she should be given all the same opportunities — and also the forgiveness for being an ass— and [as] selfish at that age as anybody else.”

Hannah McMechan, left, and Danya Jimenez, co-writers of “KPop Demon Hunters,” met in college.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

Though their upbringings were markedly different, it was their shared comedic sensibilities that connected Jimenez and McMechan when they met in college. The two were close long before deciding to pen stories together. “Having a writing partner is the best. I feel bad for people who don’t have a writing partner, no offense to them,” says Jimenez.

McMechan explains that their writing partnership works because it’s grounded on true friendship. And she believes they would not have gotten this far without each other. While McMechan’s strong suit is looking at the bigger picture, Jimenez finds humor in the details.

“Danya is definitely funnier than me,” says McMechan. “It’s really hard to write comedy in dialogue versus comedy in a situation because if you’re putting the comedy in the dialogue, it can sound so forced and cringey. But she’s really good at making it sound natural but still really funny.”

Though she had been writing stories for herself as a teen, Jimenez didn’t consider it a career path until as a high schooler she watched the romantic comedy “No Strings Attached,” in which Ashton Kutcher plays a production assistant for a TV series.

“He is having a horrible time. But I was so obsessed with movies and TV, and I was like, ‘That looks incredible. I want to be doing what he’s doing,’” she recalls. “And my dad was like, ‘That’s a job.’”

Danya Jimenez grew up in Orange County.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

As an infant, Jimenez spent some time living in Tijuana, where her parents are from, until the family settled back in San Diego, where she was born. And when she was around 5 years old, Jimenez, an only child, and her parents relocated to Orange County. Until then, Jimenez mostly spoke Spanish, which made for a tricky transition when starting school.

“I knew English, but it just wasn’t a habit,” she recalls. “I would raise my hand and accidentally speak Spanish in class. My teachers would be like, ‘We’re worried about her vocabulary.’ That was always an issue, so it’s really funny that I turned out to be a writer.”

As she points out in her professional bio, it was movies and TV that helped with her English vocabulary, especially the Disney sitcom “Lizzie McGuire.”

Jimenez describes growing up in Orange County with few Latinos around outside of her family as an alienating experience. She admits to feeling great shame for some of her behaviors as a teenager afraid of being treated differently and desperate to fit in.

“I would speak Spanish to my mom like in a corner because I didn’t want everyone else to hear me speak Spanish,” Jimenez confesses. “If my mom pulled up to school to drop me off playing Spanish hits from the ‘80s or banda, I was like, ‘Can you turn it down please?’”

Like a lot of young Latinos, she’s now taking steps to connect with her heritage, and, in a way, atone for those moments where she let what others might think rob her of her pride.

“During the pandemic I cornered my grandma to make all of her recipes again so I could write them down,” she recalls. “Now I have them all written down on a website. Or if my mom corrects me for something that I’m saying in Spanish, I now listen.”

At the risk of angering her, Jimenez describes her mother as a “cool mom,” and compares her to Amy Poehler’s character in “Mean Girls.” Raised in a household without financial struggles, Jimenez doesn’t often relate to stories about Latinos in the U.S. that make it to film and TV. Her hope is to expand Latino storytelling beyond the tropes.

“That’s very important to me, to just tell Latino stories or Mexican stories in a way that’s just authentic to me and hopefully someone else is like, ‘Yes, that’s me,’” she says. “A lot of people have certain expectations for Latino stories that I’m not willing to compromise on.”

Though they still would like to make “Luna Likes” if given the chance, for now, Jimenez and McMechan will continue their rapid ascent.

They’re “goin’ up, up, up” because it is their “moment.” They recently wrapped the Apple TV show “Brothers” starring Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson that filmed in Texas. They are also writing the feature “Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman” for Tim Burton to direct, with Margot Robbie in talks to star.

“I feel like I’ve just been operating in a state of shock for the past, I don’t know how many months since June,” says Jimenez in her signature deadpan affect. “But if I think about it too much, I’d be a nervous wreck.”

Burnt out buses and trucks lined the highway to Guadalajara, Mexico’s Estadio Akron in what is reportedly a cartel reprisal to an earlier federal law enforcement operation. Burning vehicles causing roadblocks have been reported across the state of Jalisco, including in the major tourist city of Puerto Vallarta.

Carlos Aranibar is a former Downey public works commissioner and remains involved in local Democratic politics. But until a few weeks ago, the son of Bolivian and Mexican immigrants hadn’t joined any actions against the immigration raids that have overwhelmed Southern California.

Life always seemed to get in the way. Downey hadn’t been hit as hard as other cities in Southeast L.A. County, where elected officials and local leaders urged residents to resist and helped them organize. Besides, we’re talking about Downey, a city that advocates and detractors alike hyperbolically call the “Mexican Beverly Hills” for its middle-class Latino life and conservative streak.

Voters recalled a council member in 2023 for being too wokosa, and the council decided the next year to block the Pride flag from flying on city property. A few months later, Donald Trump received an 18.8% increase in voters compared to 2020 — part of a historic shift by Latino voters toward the Republican Party.

That’s now going up in flames. But it took a while for Aranibar to full-on join the anti-migra movement — and people like him are shaping up to be a real threat to President Trump and the GOP in the coming midterms and beyond.

On Jan. 27, Aranibar saw a Customs and Border Protection truck on the way home from work. That jolted Aranibar, an electrician with the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers’ Local 11, into action.

“It’s not something like that I was in a bubble and I was finally mad — I’ve been mad,” the 46-year-old said. “But seeing [immigration patrols] so close to my city, I thought ‘That’s not cool.’”

He Googled and called around to see how best to join others and resist. Someone eventually told him about a meeting that evening in a downtown Downey music venue. It was happening just a few days after Border Patrol agents shot and killed Minneapolis resident Alex Pretti after he tried to shield a fellow protester from pepper spray, and a few weeks after immigration agents tried to detain two Downey gardeners with legal status before residents hounded them away and recorded the encounter.

Aranibar joined more than 200 people standing shoulder to shoulder for the launch of a Downey ICE Watch group. They learned how to spot and track immigration agents and signed up for email updates. A box of whistles was passed around so people could alert their neighbors if la migra was around.

“Who here has been a member of a patrol?” an organizer asked from the stage.

Only a few people raised their hands.

“I saw familiar faces and new faces, energized — it was really nice,” Aranibar said afterward. “I got the sense that people in Downey have been fired up to do something, and now it was happening.”

A similarly unexpected political awakening seemed to be happening just down the street at Downey City Hall, on the other side of the political aisle.

Mayor Claudia Frometa set tongues wagging across town after video emerged of her whooping it up with other Latino Trump supporters the night he won his reelection bid. Activists since have demanded she speak out against the president’s deportation deluge, protesting in front of City Hall and speaking out during council meetings when they didn’t buy her rationale that local government officials couldn’t do much about federal actions.

“Mayor Frometa is not a good Californian right now,” councilmember Mario Trujillo told me before the Jan. 27 council meeting. During the previous meeting, Frometa cut off his mic and called for a recess after Trujillo challenged Frometa to talk to “her president” and stop what’s going on. “It’s not a time to deflect, it’s not a time to hedge — it’s a time to stand up. She’s giving us a bulls—t narrative.”

Even Downey Mayor Claudia Frometa, a supporter of President Trump, has called out his immigation policies.

(Ronaldo Bolanos/Los Angeles Times)

That night, Frometa listened to critics like Trujillo slam her anew while wearing a wearied smile. When it was her turn to speak at the end of the night, she looked down at her desk as if reading from prepared remarks — but her voice and gesticulations felt like she was speaking from somewhere deeper.

“This issue [of deportations] which we have been seeing unfold and morph into something very ugly — it’s not about politics anymore,” Frometa said. “It’s about government actions not aligning with our Constitution, not aligning with our law and basic standards of fairness and humanity.”

As she repeatedly put on and removed her glasses, Frometa encouraged people to film immigration agents and noted the council had just approved extra funding for city-sponsored know-your-rights and legal aid workshops.

“This is beyond party affiliation,” the mayor concluded, “and we will stand together as a community.”

Suddenly, the so-called “Mexican Beverly Hills” was blasting Trump from the left and the right. Among Latinos, such a shift is blazing around the country like memes about Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show. Trump’s support among former voters has collapsed to the point that Florida state senator Ileana Garcia, co-founder of Latinas for Trump, told the New York Times that the president “will lose the midterms” because of his scorched-earth approach to immigrants.

Former Assembly member Hector de la Torre said he’s not surprised by what’s happening in a place like Downey.

“When it hits home like that, it’s not hypothetical anymore — it’s real,” he said. De La Torre was at the Downey ICE Watch meeting and works with Fromenta in his role as executive director of the Gateway Cities Council of Governments, which advocates for 27 cities stretching from Montebello to Long Beach to Cerritos and all the southeast L.A. cities.

“People are coming out the way they maybe didn’t in the past “ he continued. “It’s that realization that [raids] can even happen here.”

Mario Guerra is a longtime chaplain for the Downey police department and former mayor who remains influential in local politics — he helped the entire council win their elections. While he seemed skeptical of the people who attended the Downey ICE Watch — “How many of then were actual residents?” — he noted “frustration” among fellow Latino Republicans over Trump and his raids.

“I didn’t vote for masked men picking people up at random,” Guerra said before mentioning the migra encounter with the gardeners in January. “If that doesn’t weigh on your heart, then you’ve got some issues. All this will definitely weigh on the midterms.”

Even before Frometa’s short speech, I had a hint of what was to to come. Before the council meeting, I met with the termed-out mayor in her office.

The 51-year-old former Democrat is considered a rising GOP star as one of the few Republican Latino elected officials in Los Angeles and the first California Republican to head the nonpartisan National Assn. of Latino Elected and Appointed Officials. Her family moved to Downey from Juarez, Mexico when she was 12. Whites made up the majority of the suburban city back then, and it was most famous in those days as the land that birthed the Carpenters and the Space Shuttle.

Now, Downey is about 75% Latino, and four of its five council members are Latino.

So what did Frometa expect of Trump in his second term?

“I was expecting him to enforce our laws,” she replied. “To close our border so that we didn’t have hundreds of thousands coming in unchecked. I was expecting him to be tough on crime. But the way it’s being played out with that enforcement and the tactics is not what we voted for. No. No.”

Over our 45-minute talk, Frometa described Trump’s wanton deportation policy as “heartbreaking,” “racial profiling,” “problematic,” “devastating” and “not what America stands for.” The mayor said Republicans she knows feel “terrible” about it: “You cannot say you are pro-humanity and be OK with what’s happening.”

Asked if she was carrying a passport like many Latinos are — myself included — she said she was “almost” at that point.

A home in Downey shows support for Trump in 2024.

(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)

Frometa defended her relative silence compared to other Latino elected officials over the matter.

“We live in a time that is so polarizing that people want their elected officials to come out fighting,” she said. “And I think much more can be accomplished through different means.”

Part of that is talking with other Southern California Republicans “at different levels within the party” about how best to tell the Trump administration to “change course and change fast,” although she declined to offer details or names of other GOP members involved.

I concluded our interview by asking if she would vote for Trump again if she had the chance.

“It’s a very hard — It’s a hard question to answer,” Frometa said with a sigh. “We want our communities to be treated fairly, and we want our communities to be treated humanely. Are they being treated that way right now? They’re not. And I’m not OK with that.”

So right now you don’t know?

“Mm-hmm.”

You better believe there’s a lot more right-of-center Latinos right now thinking the same.

Dust off your cowboy hats, prepare your tequila shooters and saddle up: Carín León has just announced his 2026 North American tour.

The Grammy-winning Mexican singer-songwriter will kick off the tour May 20 with a performance in Hidalgo, Texas. Over the course of this summer and fall, the Sonoran crooner will visit major U.S. cities including Dallas, Houston, Atlanta and Chicago before wrapping up Oct. 9 in Portland, Ore.

In Los Angeles, the singer is expected to perform Sept. 20 at BMO Stadium, which accommodates over 20,000 fans for concerts.

The tour also includes his highly anticipated Las Vegas residency at the Sphere, which is already sold out on some dates. In September, León will make history as the first Latino artist to headline the one-of-a-kind venue, which will take place across seven nights in Sin City.

León is also doubling his stadium capacity for his singular Canada performance by moving to the TD Coliseum in Hamilton, Ontario, which holds an audience of about 18,000; the “Primera Cita” singer first performed in 2024 at the Coca-Cola Coliseum in Toronto, which holds roughly 9,000 people.

“Returning to the United States and Canada to reunite with my people fills me with excitement. I’m returning with new songs and all the history we’ve built together,” said León in a statement. “We’re preparing a very special production so we can feel closer than ever. De Sonora para el mundo… see you soon, mi gente.”

The “Que Vuelvas” singer last toured the states in 2024 following the release of his critically-acclaimed “Boca Chueca, Vol. 1,” which earned him his first Grammy for música mexicana album in 2025.

News of the upcoming North American tour follows another Grammy win for the balladeer, who on Sunday took home the golden gramophone once more in the same category as last year, this time for his 2025 album “Palabra de To’s.”

Throughout his career, León has bent the rules of música mexicana by collaborating with artists across a variety of genres, from Latin pop stars like Maluma and Camilo to U.S. country singers like Kane Brown and Kacey Musgraves.

The 36-year-old has always stood firmly on the idea that música mexicana extends beyond the regional confines of Mexico, sharing with The Times in 2023 that “Mexican music is no longer regional — it’s only become more global.”

Ticket sales for his North American tour begin Feb. 11, but resellers beware! León will be using Openstage Ticket Unlocks, which will reward real fans with personalized presale codes to limit bots.