Let’s make it count.
Let’s make it count.
The following is the final essay for Making Our Neighborhood: Redlining, Gentrification and Housing in East Hollywood, featured in our brand new print magazine for readers, and is also an epilogue for “An Excavation of East Hollywood,” the three-part series.
When mama and papa first stepped foot in Los Angeles from Mexico and El Salvador in the 1980s, they didn’t know that the humble places they would call home were disinvested areas, borne from a city and state that could only see people like them as laborers and not as neighbors. Likewise, they could have no idea that this stretch of land our family would come to know as the neighborhood, east of Hollywood and west of Silver Lake, would become a predominantly immigrant community for decades, where nearly four-fifths of people, including our family, still rent rather than own the places they live in.
My brother and I, following in our parents’ footsteps, also couldn’t anticipate that poverty in the neighborhood, which seemed to keep kids like us trapped inside of it, would be the same thing facilitating the process of pushing kids like us out. But studies show that from 1980 to 2014, as Los Angeles saw its largest waves of families coming from Latin America and Asia, household incomes rose only by 13 percent, while rents in Los Angeles rose by 55 percent. At the same time, reports show that by 1997, when my brother and I were in our earliest years of school, nearly one out of every six renter households in Los Angeles County lived in overcrowded or severely overcrowded conditions. Like our parents, and generations of Indigenous and Black Americans before them, we inherited racist policies that would only become more pronounced over time.
Thirty years after our parents’ arrival to Los Angeles, investment in a whiter, more luxurious L.A., coupled with growing homelessness for Black and immigrant communities here, spreads like a malign enclosure upon more neighborhoods, surrounding the 600 square foot apartment our family shares with only more unaffordability, exclusivity, and racist dispossession of space.
Ellis Act evictions take place when landlords decide to turn rental buildings, including rent-stabilized (RSO) buildings, into condominiums or vacant land, in the process kicking out any and all families who rely on paying stabilized or affordable rents at those buildings. Each time a household or family in East Hollywood is evicted because of the Ellis Act, it not only destabilizes local family health and support systems, but also reduces the number of affordable housing units for working-class families, especially Black and immigrant communities in Los Angeles.
There is little legal protection for renters faced with an Ellis Act eviction because the law is by and large a handout to landlords. But families can pressure landlords and the city for greater compensation when they’re forced to leave their only homes, especially if they can organize with fellow families paying rent at buildings set for conversion.
Since 2000, Ellis Act evictions have taken nearly 500 RSO housing units out of East Hollywood, and nearly 27,000 RSO housing units out of the city of Los Angeles, with each unit lost being another opening for more gentrification, or pricing out of long-time community members. Our city, state and planning officials are supposed to protect such housing, but have largely derelicted this duty. Thus, when organizations like the East Hollywood Tenants Union and the Eviction Defense Network take a stand against these and other evictions, they’re actually filling a leadership vacuum left by many of the city’s supposed officials and representatives.
In the near future, outlawing the Ellis Act at the next opportunity, which overwhelmingly impacts Black and immigrant families in Los Angeles, as well as educating renters on their rights before they face an Ellis Act eviction are key areas for our communities to focus on. Supporting tenants associations as volunteers, funders, or providing other services to these groups will also prove fruitful in the fight to prevent more racist dispossession of the places we call home.
UNHOUSED IN EAST HOLLYWOOD
Each time a new tent is laid across the sidewalk in East Hollywood, it not only places the person sheltering in it in a dangerous environment, but also impacts the elderly, children, and residents in wheelchairs who rely on public space to move across our communities. According to the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority (LAHSA), in 2009, when Eric Garcetti was in his eighth year as the Council Member for the 13th district, where East Hollywood is based, there were an estimated 2,200 people in the district without a roof over their heads.
Since 2019, by Mitch O’Farrell’s sixth year as the Council Member for the 13th district, LAHSA reported just under 4,000 unhoused people in the district, or an increase of 81 percent, approximately 3,200 of whom had no shelter on any given night. LAHSA’s counts are also widely considered undercounts, since families who are “doubling up” in living rooms and other such arrangements are not counted in the annual tally by the organization.
The question for many residents in East Hollywood, then, and in nearly any formerly redlined neighborhood in Los Angeles, remains: Why does homelesness only increase every year?
When the feds redlined neighborhoods in the 1940s, they decided where housing would be funded by the federal budget, and where it would not be funded. Assessors for the government walked through our neighborhoods, and after seeing homes in our communities that included Black, Asian-American, and Latinx residents alongside those of white or European immigrants, decided funding for housing would not be assigned here. By contrast, when the feds saw strictly white communities, or vacant land that could be made strictly white by a “deed restriction,” they encouraged their colleagues at federal offices to write the checks and developers to bring on the building. This was a consequential form of what author and prison abolitionist, Ruth Wilson Gilmore, has called “organized abandonment,” or institutional racism, that continues affecting our neighborhoods.
As a result of redlining and related policies, working-class whites, many of whom would later become “NIMBYs,” or activists against integrated and more diverse neighborhoods in today’s Los Angeles, received a wide array of housing opportunities at the expense of Black and immigrant communities. This meant that many Black and immigrant people in places like East Hollywood had to crowd together inside of rental apartments originally built in the 1920s, when the city of L.A. housed less than 600,000 people. But by 1940, L.A.’s population had more than doubled, even as the city still reneged on the need to house non-white immigrant and Black workers. As World War II progressed, only more such workers migrated to L.A., and that’s when homelessness first came to be regarded as a serious threat to non-white communities here.
Los Angeles now contains nearly four million people. But Black and immigrant families here remain overcrowded in rental housing, and are increasingly crowded out onto the street. As of 2020, Black and immigrant families are nearly three-fourths of L.A. County’s estimated 70,000 unhoused people, according to LAHSA’s numbers.
And what kind of support exists for these residents? As of 2018, a patchwork system between L.A. City Council districts, the L.A. County Supervisors, and LAHSA offered less than 17,000 shelter beds for people with nowhere to live, or 24 percent of the need. However, in several cases, L.A.’s shelters have been found to be unsanitary, infested by bugs and vermin, inadequately staffed and maintained, and even containing abusers, all of which are why many unhoused people largely decline their “services.”
It’s also important to note that the unhoused population’s demographics nearly replicate that of L.A. County’s incarcerated population. According to former director for LAHSA, Peter Lynn, “there is probably no more single significant factor than incarceration in terms of elevating somebody’s prospects of homelessness.”
Yet as recently as 2019, approximately 111,000 individuals were placed behind bars at the L.A. county jail system, according to the L.A. Almanac. 53 percent of these inmates were Latino, while 29 percent were Black, even while Black people account for less than 9 percent of the L.A. County population and Latino inmates are likely undercounted.
For each Black or Latino resident placed behind L.A. County bars– which costs taxpayers up to $50,000 per inmate, according to Justice L.A.–their chance of becoming homeless is substantially increased. After all, going to jail means missing work, educational, and family obligations, and a criminal record that affects both housing as well as employment opportunities. Gilmore has also pointed out that as recently as 2006, 40 percent of the state’s prisoners came from L.A. County alone, meaning that addressing homelessness in the region also necessitates apprehending California’s elaborate prison industrial complex, the largest in U.S. history.
These historic and ongoing racist legacies in Los Angeles, abetted by state legislators and their benefactors, are important to be familiar with to see why the city, state and federal governments have historical wrongs to account for on housing as much as they do on policing, particularly for Black, immigrant, and Indigenous communities; and to see why, instead of pinning the “blame” on unhoused people simply because they’re “in front of us,” frustrations are better channeled at public leaders tasked and paid by our tax dollars to oversee services for our communities.
L.A. CITY PLANNING
It is a historical fact that L.A. City officials have long been for sale to luxury, condominium, and other major real estate developers, and all the more so because of weak state and federal housing policies largely drafted by landlord and realtor groups themselves. Recent guilty pleas for bribery schemes by former L.A. City Council Member Mitchell Englander, and former L.A. City Planning Commissioner, Justin Kim, showed this most recently, while Jose Huizar, the former L.A. City Council Member for Boyle Heights, awaits trial for an elaborate luxury hotel-building scheme in none other than downtown L.A..
But discoveries of “sell-out” politicians in L.A. should not be considered aberrational. Rather, it’s part of an “old” legacy of business between wealthy groups and government offices in major cities across the U.S. As far back as 1955, in Forbidden Neighbors: A Study of Prejudice in Housing, housing policy expert, Charles Abrams, noted that one of the main obstacles in creating equitable housing were City Planning officials interested more in profit than fair policy:
“Their main interest, like that of private operators, is financial success. If in the process prejudice becomes part of public policy, it is only the price of profit.”
At the March 2021 Hollywood Community Update Plan’s public hearing, a meeting held by the L.A. City Planning Commission regarding “updates” to land rules in Hollywood, planning officials once again showed more concern for the financial rather than racial implications of their proposed “changes” to the rules. Commissioners were largely out of the loop when it came to their own staff’s dizzying and bureaucratic recommendations on the plan, and hesitant to call for any language in the “updates” in outright defense of Black unhoused people, Latinx domestic workers, and other low-income or no-income residents in Hollywood.
Yet expecting planning commissioners chosen for their seats by the mayor’s office to stand up for working-class people’s homes might be as fanciful as expecting the L.A. County sheriff to call for permanently closing the $3.5 billion L.A. County Jail after hearing from wrongfully incarcerated people. In reality, not unlike the sheriffs, whose very uniforms depend on securing property rights and not those of working-class people, commissioners at the Hollywood Community Update plan largely lacked terminology, and much less experience with standing up to hotel and shopping district developers for elderly, Black, immigrant and other residents historically left out of the city’s “future.” And since commissioners for the Hollywood update didn’t know how language in the plan meant to preserve affordable housing or rent-stabilized units would be taken by development groups and their lawyers, they stayed away from any meaningful stand for these residents altogether, leaving it for the L.A. City Council to do.
These commissioners also failed to even mention concerns by callers about more than 4,500 acres in the Hollywood area being zoned or recommended for single-family homes, effectively blocking multi-family and affordable housing projects from entering areas like the Hollywood hills for another 20 years.
In the 1940s, areas like the Hollywood Hills were greenlined, or praised by real estate assessors for “deeds” in their neighborhoods based on exclusivity against non-white homeowners. But today, while zoning for the Hollywood Hills contains no explicit bans on housing for non-whites, “preserving neighborhood character” for largely white, single-family homeowners there accomplishes the same, ensuring that especially low-income renters stay out of the Hollywood Hills until at least 2040. Thus, Abrams’ words from 1955 were just as applicable to the commissioners’ effects at the Hollywood Update’s Public Hearing from March 2021:
”They have not only ignored the racial problem in their calculations but the problem of mixed social and economic groups generally. Their vision is too-often restricted to new neighborhoods developed as all-white, all-one-class, all-exclusive enclaves. Thus another great reform may go the way of others, to be perverted into another device for exclusion and oppression.”
In the immediate future, city planning commissions not only need to be electorally chosen, but also more representative of people who actually live in planning areas due for “updates” in their zoning or land rules. The commissioner’s hearings also need to be more culturally competent for the city’s non-white groups in both their structure and order; the “old” way of official business in Los Angeles, a system largely crafted by and for white men of means, is as much in poor taste in the 21st century as it is undemocratic. Individuals with a seat at commissions also need to be masters of the long list of racist planning policies against “minorities,” and well-read on how to require preservation along with expansion of space from developers for these communities in the name of equity.
GENTRIFICATION AS A NEW CIVIL RIGHTS ISSUE
While research has defined gentrification in several ways, here is a final scenario to consider the issue: Gentrification is when a public official sees a neighborhood where families are barely making monthly rent on crowded housing, yet still approves luxury and market rate housing entering into those families’ neighborhood. This is an inherently discriminatory call because such developments only increase the cost of living for those working-class families, recalling previous forms of racist, yet also legal, dispossession for communities of color such as redlining.
Just as when the feds labeled Black and immigrant groups “undesirable” for investment, when these groups were actually laborers for service and agricultural sectors crucial to California and the U.S. leading up to and during WWII, today it’s just as discriminatory to burden these communities with unaffordable living options and market rate housing that is not meant for low-income wage earners, or essential workers.
Here’s another note for future L.A. City Planning officials and constituents to keep in mind: If Black and immigrant communities had been invested in during the making of the modern Los Angeles, or “allowed” to own homes in “white” neighborhoods and supported by federal and municipal governments in doing so–the way they need to be supported in doing so now–there is no telling how many “tent cities” would have been prevented from cropping up in Los Angeles and California.
Fortunately, in response to the racist policies, Los Angeles is now witnessing the rise of a new generation of multi-ethnic groups organizing to advance human rights over unchecked profit agendas abetted by public policymakers, including Street Watch L.A., the L.A. Tenants Union, and more; these groups need to be partnered with and grown. While donating money is helpful, just as critical is “people power,” or “boots on the ground” to support their efforts in building a more humane Los Angeles. In community with these efforts, here are just a few more humane possibilities for housing in Los Angeles going forward.
RECLAIMING AND REBUILDING OUR COMMUNITIES
At the same time that calls increase on our public officials to support not luxury, but housing for low-income workers in Los Angeles, a growing number of people are also calling for more Community Land Trusts (CLTs). CLTs maintain community ownership–or shared stewardship–over land and housing to maintain permanently affordable housing options for community members.
CLTs require participation from homeowners and tenants, as well as other community members in their governing board meetings or governing structure. Renters in areas covered by CLTs can also work with local CLTs to acquire a property together, facilitating the process of acquisition for tenants and the non-profits as stewards.
In an effort to create more Community Land Trusts across Los Angeles for the County’s 10 million residents, five local CLTs have formed a coalition and are urging L.A. residents to learn about the Tenants Opportunity to Purchase Act.
The Tenants Opportunity to Purchase Act (TOPA) is a proposed law that would give tenants in unincorporated areas of L.A. County the first opportunity to buy the building they live in if and when a building’s owner decides to sell the property. While the law would begin with unincorporated areas, the goal would be to spread its span across Los Angeles.
Locally, in East Hollywood, the Beverly & Vermont CLT can provide more information. According to Joe Linton, of Streetsblog L.A., “The BVCLT is focused on providing affordable housing within a walkable distance from the Beverly & Vermont Metro Red Line Station [between Koreatown and East Hollywood]. BVCLT currently owns three apartment buildings (50 housing units, all below market rate, with a dozen covenanted for specific low income categories) and manages a community garden site owned by the school district [LAUSD].”
In El Sereno, the El Sereno Community Land Trust has stated official interest in taking stewardship over dozens of empty homes in the area, some purchased by Caltrans as early as 1950, for a 710 freeway expansion project the agency officially abandoned in November 2018. at At the beginning of the pandemic, after families calling themselves “Reclaimers” moved into a dozen of these empty homes without official approval, Caltrans negotiated with the group to approve a select number of the homes as temporary shelter. But when a few more families attempted to do the same in November, California highway patrol officers quickly descended on them, manhandling women and children and charging them with trespassing. Yet the effort signaled both the growing crisis of homelessness for families in L.A. as well as the growing risks they’re willing to take for a roof over their heads.
This leads to another simple, yet practical ordinance that planning and public officials can immediately apply to save hundreds of thousands of housing units in Los Angeles over the next few years as cities “recover” from the global health crisis: no rent obligations for working-class families who experience sudden financial or personal loss.
When working-class people, particularly in redlined or disinvested communities, experience tragedy in their lives, like the sudden loss of a loved one, they should not be compelled to pay rent at the end of the month. Expenses for a roof over one’s head, among other accounting to do after a sudden death, is only an additional burden, especially when those lost supported the household rent. Deaths and accidents for families who have been historically discriminated against should not have to lead to homelessness, as has been the de facto norm for far too long in our city.
This would not be an entirely new innovation either. During World War II, rent control in the U.S. was officially enacted nationwide to ensure workers had a place to rest for the next day’s work assignment. In the “war” against pandemic, rent forgiveness will prove just as much as an investment. It was also just in 2008 that, at the height of the great recession, the federal government doled out over trillions of taxpayer dollars to U.S. banks. Today, after the year of the great pandemic, why shouldn’t the government allocate as much for working-class families?
BRING OUR HOUSING HOME
In Los Angeles County, as recently as 2019, an estimate of nearly 900,000 residents in Los Angeles, or enough to fill up seats at more than 15 additional Dodger stadiums, were qualified as poor by the Public Policy Institute of California. For these residents, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) lists 811 buildings in L.A. County officially recognized as affordable housing options. But even if all of these buildings were to contain up to 100 units of housing–which they certainly do not–that would still be merely 81,000 affordable housing units, or just 24% percent of what L.A. County’s most vulnerable residents need.
An additional problem is that the HUD website lists units that are affordable under the Low-Income Housing Tax Credit program, which is a government tax break for private real estate developers to keep a certain amount of their housing units below market rate prices, but only for a duration of about 15 to 20 years; in other words, even “affordable housing” by the federal government’s definition is just affordable on a timer, not permanently affordable for families in need.
Therefore, even if L.A.’s low-income families manage to find an affordable apartment tomorrow, they could pay rent for only a single year before the housing’s affordability “deed” expires. A recent report by the California Housing Partnership (CHP) shows that nearly 9,000 such homes are due to turn into market rate housing through 2021 alone, while 32,000 more are set to become market rate units by 2030. Coupled with Ellis Act evictions, these policies are set to wipe out at least 50,000 affordable homes in Los Angeles by the supposed start of the 2028 Olympics.
In 2018, the CHP also estimated that L.A. County needs more than 500,000 housing units to keep up with demand. Here’s what should be clear about these units: they need to be permanently affordable, or extremely low-income housing for low wage earners, and built not only by for-profit developers, but by non-profits and the federal government’s own entities across Los Angeles. These low-income homes also need to be built in Hollywood Hills, Pacific Palisades, Santa Clarita, and anywhere else land can be reasonably integrated, both racially and in terms of income.
While many claim that land in Los Angeles for such units is simply too expensive in today’s dollars, even if a single one of these half a million units costs up to $500,000, requiring a $250 billion investment, the expense would still constitute less than five percent of all money borrowed by the federal government for wars in Iraq and Afghanistan since 2001. Put another way, if the U.S. had taken those war dollars and spent them domestically over twenty years, it could have funded 500,000 affordable housing units in Los Angeles and 47.5 million more units all over the country. Instead, as recently as 2018, just 1.1 million public housing apartments spread across the 50 states housed an estimated 2.1 million low-income residents.
Mom was in her first year as the owner of her newsstand on Santa Monica boulevard, while yours truly was just a first-year student at Thomas Starr King Middle School in 2001. As we watched the twin towers fall, little did we know that the event would spark twenty years of fighting phantom enemies abroad instead of fighting racism against communities historically called and treated as enemies here. In April 2021, Biden announced the withdrawal of all U.S. troops in Afghanistan by September 11, 2021, yet mom and I await another “homecoming” in Los Angeles; we watch patiently as for the first time in three decades, 187 units of extremely low-income housing are set to enter East Hollywood for renters like our family.
The Little Tokyo Service Center has worked hard to establish various bonds for these 187 units atop L.A. Metro’s Vermont and Santa Monica Red Line station. Yet non-profit housing developers like the LTSC, as well as the Beverly & Vermont CLT, and our families, should not have to go it alone for another two or three decades. Our government has to take on new housing responsibilities for communities as nothing less than a defining matter of public infrastructure.
Our municipal government must work in coordination towards the same; as recently as 2019, Los Angeles County produced more than $725 billion worth of goods and services, the largest amount of any county in the nation. In other words, today’s local, state and federal officials can find more ways than one to create expansive public housing, community land trusts, and comprehensive policies for workers and families spread across every neighborhood in Los Angeles, regardless of income or “property values.” Most importantly, as was the case during Mr. Albright’s Reconstruction, our communities today stand just as ready to raise these fruits across the land.
Because our calls and movements for housing are not just about places of residency or zip codes in which to reside for work and schools; in this city and across the nation, they are about the life-blood of our communities and how humane policies can finally “give back” to those who continually tend to our cities’ health and well-being despite even the greatest odds continually stacked against them.
Dear Honorable Congressman Schiff,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to you today to express my support for the Little Tokyo Service Center’s (LTSC) transformative housing project in partnership with L.A. Metro at the Vermont/Santa Monica intersection in East Hollywood.
This past March, along with members of the East Hollywood Neighborhood Council and a coalition of storytellers, scholars, and other community members, I discussed historic redlining practices affecting East Hollywood in the critical years before the onset of WWII. You may or may not know that East Hollywood, along with a number of other neighborhoods in the Central L.A. area, was historically redlined by federal and municipal government officials who saw Black and immigrant families as “blight” and “too risky” or unworthy of investment.
As offensive as redlining was for racist language that discouraged private banks from lending to working-class families in East Hollywood, what was more consequential was redlining’s discouragement of building development to break ground for needed housing in the community.
This is still relevant today. The World War II era, for its myriad of unique particularities, continues bearing key connections to the current housing crisis in Los Angeles. In 1939, the national economy was still emerging from a decade of the Great Depression. Therefore, when the U.S. officially joined the conflict, while California’s ports and aerospace industries began employing masses of new workers, labor shortages threatened to stifle the state’s service and agriculture economies, which could have almost certainly cost the U.S. the war effort.
In bouts of heroism and bravery alike, waves of Black families from the historic U.S. south came to the rescue, especially for the Golden State’s service economies. Simultaneously, Latinx workers from the global south, particularly from Mexico, came to California as the first “Braceros” for the state’s agricultural industry.
Yet while these workers were sure to be hired in Los Angeles, what was entirely uncertain was their housing. After decades of racial covenants, deed restrictions, campaigns against housing for non-whites by an L.A. chapter of the Ku Klux Klan and their collaborators, and homogeneously white city councils, courtrooms, and police, Los Angeles left Black, Latinx and APPI communities with housing conditions that would only worsen with time.
Twenty years after the end of WWII, these conditions erupted in Watts. A generation later, less than twenty years after the world recession of 1973 – 1975, these conditions erupted again in South Central Los Angeles.
And today, even as research shows Black and Latinx people make up to 70% of the unhoused population in Los Angeles, and virtually the same rate of the incarcerated population in the L.A. County Jail and across California prisons, during the “war” against COVID, Black, Latinx and AAPI workers have unflinchingly and resiliently supported L.A.’s service, agricultural and transportation economies, including in East Hollywood. This is why LTSC’s project at Vermont/Santa Monica is as timely as it is appropriate. It is breaking the ground for families needed as early as the years before WWII.
I write in support of Little Tokyo Service Center’s Santa Monica & Vermont Apartments because they will provide 187 units of overdue affordable housing for people of color in the community, as well as permanent supportive housing that communities of color in East Hollywood have missed as the homelessness crisis, which is undoubtedly a humanitarian crisis, has only grown by leaps and bounds.
You are likely aware, Congressman Schiff, that in L.A. City Council’s 13th district, where East Hollywood is based, nearly 4,000 people are unhoused, and also that job losses due to the pandemic threaten to unhouse waves of more families of color in our community.
Therefore, while federal and municipal officials have still yet to officially account for discrimination in housing in East Hollywood due to redlining and related policies, LTSC’s extremely low-income housing is what beginning to “turn the page” looks like.
As you can recall, Lyndon B. Johnson was the first in Washington D.C. to officially declare “war” on poverty, but could only see the work unfinished as subsequent, “reactionary,” and corporate-bound leadership jeopardized the effort to bridge the wealth gap in our country. The moment now calls for that unfinished work to be resumed with utmost haste, and so we await your affirmation of this through your urgent support for LTSC’s housing work in East Hollywood.
Sincerely, and in community, always
On behalf of a critical segment of residents in East Hollywood, this office can now keep for its records that the level of abandonment towards unhoused residents in the 13th district in the years leading up to COVID-19, and then during the year of stay-at-home orders, has gone from derelict to criminal and back again.
As if to add further injury to insult of the principles that CD-13’s office should stand for, actions taken at Mitch O’Farrell’s and homeowners’ direction to forcibly remove unhoused residents and housing-insecure residents as well as their supporters in Echo Park this week are fascistic at their core, and obvious as such to all but this office and the homeowners whose wealth and property values they seek to protect by so doing; O’Farrell’s decision to undermine the unhoused at Echo Park also mirrors what real estate appraisers sought to do in the 1940s when they redlined property values against Negroes and “foreign families.”
In the 1940s, explicit prohibitions against homeownership by non-whites were legal, but not right nor humane. In 1948, when racial covenants were banned by the Supreme Court, it was largely due to pressure by African-American civil rights organizing in our cities, as well as because of a need for the U.S. judicial system to distinguish the U.S. from “[Soviet] communism,” that is, at least on paper. But today, while deploying police officers paid for by tax dollars extracted from a city that’s 3/4ths non-white against unsheltered bodies, 3/4ths of whom are non-white, may still be technically legal, it is as wrong and inhumane as previous removal policies in Los Angeles and California, which special rapporteur for the United Nations, Philip Alston, as much as noted in 2017.
These issues are not just temporarily emotional or online issues for us either, but issues we live with each day as we walk through our avenues, open up our shops, and make our way to and from work inside of the 13th district; many of us preceded Mitch O’Farrell’s term here–and also Garcetti’s from 2001 – 2012–and will outlast O’Farrell’s tenure, but make no mistake about it: the damage wrought on our community by O’Farrell’s and Garcetti’s dedication to Business Improvement Districts, hotel and condominium developers, and entitled home “owners” will take our community generations to recover from.
We also know the office is fond of sending newsletters to constituents noting their “clean-ups,” but until June 7, 2022, the only clean-up we’d like to see is of Mitch O’Farrell’s office on Sunset boulevard. The “flight” of white supremacy and its proponents in the 13th district, who regard our unhoused residents only as “blight” on our streets–truly the pots calling kettles black, given that these streets belong most of all to the renters and workers who share them–will also be a welcome reprieve.
In our 48th episode, we give listeners the LIVE recording of our first panel for Making Our Neighborhood: Past: Redlining, Internment, and Resilience. Our fundraiser for translation services over the next two panels is nearly complete. Please visit our FUNDLY to support!
Rain or shine, we keep pushing together.
This is the third installment of a three-part series.
“The Marshalls were close to their Japanese-American neighbors, particularly the Hoshizakis and the Kakibas, who lived on either side of them. Their daughter, Barbara Marshall, remembers food and culture being exchanged over the hedges of their houses.” – Samanta Helou-Hernandez, This Side of Hoover
The Japanese American and African American families documented on This Side of Hoover were the types of families in East Hollywood whom a band of real estate appraisers & L.A. County officials in the 1940s would come to label “undesirable” for investment. Today, the area, east of Hollywood and west of Silver Lake, is a majority-immigrant community where nearly 4/5ths of the population rent apartments, and which is also disproportionately policed over increasingly valuable real estate for appraisers.
Now, nearly one hundred years since deed restrictions in Los Feliz–a wealthier neighborhood to the north of East Hollywood–stated in their clauses that only members of the “Caucasian Race” were allowed to own property in the area, Black residents there and in East Hollywood face the highest rates of homelessness and policing of their bodies. Non-white immigrant communities face the second highest rates of homelenessness and policing in Los Feliz and East Hollywood.
Data also shows that from 1980 – 2014, when areas like East Hollywood saw their largest waves of immigration from Latin America and Asia, rents in Los Angeles jumped 55%, while incomes increased only by 13%.
In 2018, according to the California Housing Partnership (CHP), “Renters in Los Angeles County [needed] to earn $46.15/hr – more than 4 times local minimum wage – to afford the median monthly asking rent of $2,400.” The CHP also estimated that Los Angeles County needs at least 500,000 additional affordable rental homes to meet current demand, a number that’s only increasing due to Ellis Act evictions.
Ellis Act evictions take place when landlords decide to convert buildings, including rent-stabilized (RSO) buildings, into condominiums. Since 2000, Ellis Act evictions have taken nearly 500 housing rent-stabilized units out of East Hollywood and nearly 27,000 RSO units from the city of Los Angeles overall. At the same time, since 2000, homelessness in the 13th district, of which East Hollywood is a part of, has accelerated, with at least 544 families without housing as recently as 2019. The total number of unhoused people in the 13th district is now at least 4,000, according to the most recent numbers from the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority.
As we discuss redlining in East Hollywood then, it’s also important to note that Los Angeles was not always segregated between wealthy neighborhoods on the west and north sides and impoverished neighborhoods in the central, east and south sides. Redlined neighborhoods in Los Angeles actually meant that neighborhoods were integrated, made up of Black, immigrant, and European-born residents. The clearest consequence of redlining and related policies was therefore explicit government investment in dividing cities by racial makeup, which came to promulgate the false notion that universal human necessities like housing, education, and healthcare should serve only some residents at the expense of others.
Also consider that Black and immigrant groups called “undesirable” for investment by the Homeowners Loan Corporation (HOLC) were groups of laborers, many of whom worked for the city’s biggest industries in the 20th century before WW2, that of service and agriculture. Black, Japanese, Mexican and other “minority” residents served wealthier white families in areas like Los Feliz as babysitters, nurses, fruit pickers, and more. Historically then, Black and immigrant communities in Los Angeles played critical roles in making the state of California the fifth largest state in the U.S. by 1950.
Redlining also entailed private and public officials marking people as inherently hazardous to one another due to racial difference, not unlike an unsafe “building condition.” For example, there were certain parts of the northern portion of Hollywood that were redlined not because Black or immigrant people resided there, but due to an unsafe dam.
Private and public officials feared–or at least professed–that racially different groups living together could only lead to racial rioting, which was prevalent from the 50s – 60s, though largely over the same issues: housing, employment, and police discrimination against Black and other non-white bodies. But if groups of different skin color could only lead to rioting, then what explains the inter-ethnic community between Black and Japanese American families like those noted by Making Our Neighborhood…The Panel Series?
Here are also a few interesting questions for readers to consider about any redlined neighborhood in the U.S. today: What would the area look like if Black and immigrant communities had actually been invested in, or allowed to own homes in “white” neighborhoods and supported sufficiently in doing so? How many unhoused “tent cities” would have been prevented in the decades after the 1940s? And how much crime and policing over the last 80 years could have been avoided in the neighborhood?
Now Los Angeles is witnessing the rise of a new generation of multi-ethnic groups organizing to advance justice and equity in the city, particularly in the area of Tenants Rights. More interethnic movements need to be forged, however, at the same time that the vast majority of L.A. and California’s public officials continue to seem as distant as ever from work on the ground towards equity.
But if Los Angeles needed a reminder that Black people have worked to advance justice for ALL groups, or create justice where it was left wanting, including in this city and not just the historic U.S. south, Ms. Marshall’s account of her family visiting their Japanese American neighbors preceding their internment with sweets and other shows of friendship demonstrate it loudly and clearly.
“I didn’t know we were in an integrated neighborhood until I learned about that word. To be able to walk down the street without fear of people calling you names because everybody was part of the neighborhood.” -Barbara Marshall
Ms. Marshall’s endearing description of everyone belonging to the neighborhood is precisely why the pamphlets for Making Our Neighborhood were translated into four of the most spoken languages in East Hollywood today, including Español, Thai, Tagalog, and Armenian. Our pamphlets have been well received by the community, and for good reason: In a city where at least 3/4ths of the population can trace roots to languages other than English, our informational pamphlets hint at what the next chapter of city planning and community engagement needs to look like.
In today’s Los Angeles, every resident, whether in the celebrity or political class, or not, is a part of this city. Indeed, this simple understanding is all that was missing during the days of deed restrictions, redlining, and other discriminatory practices in home-sales or home rentals to non-white communities. It’s the city that “should have been” built at the dawn of the twentieth century, but that we have to build–and fight for–now.
Consider that during the most fatal public health crisis in over a century, civic groups have had almost no break from hounding at L.A.’s political leadership to “seize the hotels” in order to temporarily shelter a fraction of L.A. County’s 67,000 unhoused residents, who are predominantly Black and immigrant residents, even while the federal government ensures 100% reimbursement for this procedure. But the fact is that given Los Angeles Housing policy for non-white and immigrant communities over the last 100 years, the neighborly thing for our civic and political leadership to do would be to ensure such common sense calls don’t have to be made.
At the same time that our communities fight to shelter the unsheltered, we also have to protect what affordable, rent stabilized housing remains in Los Angeles. This includes repealing the Ellis Act, which has damaged East Hollywood and other Black and immigrant neighborhoods throughout Los Angeles.
Finally, we need to amplify calls on our political leadership to stand up to developers on behalf of our neighborhoods as they were elected to do.
Yet if there’s one thing L.A. was known for since before the 20th century all the way up to 1951, when talks of a baseball team coming to L.A. were just getting started, it was setting records, including building records and booms.
For our part as storytellers, our research and documentation work uplifts elders, activists currently on the ground in our communities, scholars, and even more of what makes East Hollywood and any neighborhood like it more than just “worth” honoring for a moment, but something worth honoring at length for a future.
Already, we have taken the historical truths of redlining and gentrification and flipped them to serve more than just one group or narrative. Our political officials can do the same, and then some. Find our recorded panel sessions on YouTube, and pose your questions for us at the new website for the rest of our community: Hope.xyz/MakingOurNeighborhood.