Tag: gentrification

Our Petition for Super Pan Bakery of the Virgil Village is now LIVE

“She collected observations as one would collect ice-cream sticks: a youth riding a wobbly bike on the muddy shoulders of the street; a skinny cat roaming through the tall bird-of-paradise stalks; two comadres chatting between a fence; an old crooked bird man who fed his flock of pigeons daily. The desire to be on the other side of the fence, to run away and join them, was so strong, it startled her, just like the buzzard bell ending another recess.”

– Their Dogs Came With Them, Helena Maria Viramontes

One day we were teenagers, just trying to make our way home without forgetting our books at the 7-Eleven, either because we had put them down in trying to avoid looking overly studious with over-sized backpacks, or because we just didn’t take backpacks to school to begin with, being too cool.

The next we were at a crossroads, either turning the other cheek as police raided the homes and pockets of our classmates and peers, or going down in a blaze with them for trying to stand at their side without the social standing to back us.

Today we’re at another junction, as the influx of new wealth and power make their way through the streets which for decades we’ve called home, transforming their characters and erasing their pasts for a new crop of city-goers in a new time of city-going.

But to be clear about the question of change: the fact of the matter is that the neighborhood has been in the midst of transformation since the earliest steps our parents took through its intersections when they first arrived en masse to Los Angeles during the 1980s in an effort to make for new lives here.

The technology since that time has also been in the midst of transformation; the way human beings have connected with the rest of the world has come a long way from the days of the first home computers and beepers and payphones. My peers and I were born in the 1990s, arriving just after the fall of the Berlin Wall, which placed us at the end of an arms and technological race between two empires that spawned formidable, reverberating technologies across the world.

While the smartphones we use today now change our perception of the world at light-speed, the atom and hydrogen bombs before them, followed by the freeways not long afterwards, also altered time and space in ways that moved people, including our people–that is, our immigrant and working class communities all over the U.S. and the world–to and through cities like Los Angeles.

But now another social and technological shift is underway again, and the question is not whether we can keep another neighborhood in Los Angeles from being taken from its past, because this has definitely not been the case here since the city’s foundation, throughout its annexation, during the boring for Mulholland’s aqueducts, amid the aforementioned scientific innovations, or at any other point.

The question is whether we can manage to facilitate these changes in a way that doesn’t come at the complete expense of others, and in a way that benefits more than just one group over another.

It’s also a question of whether the people in the “less affluent” groups like the one described here can muster the collective social and political strength necessary to take a stand in this regard. I would argue that our Back to School Party at El Gran Burrito this past August was a STAND, which makes it so that calling attention to Super Pan Bakery’s displacement from the Virgil Village is now a direct follow up to that same STAND.

I also believe that while there’s much debate in cities throughout the U.S. about just what kind of change is inevitable, it’s clear that it’s increasingly difficult for institutions and owners to take space from others without people calling attention to their place in the historical timeline of the environment in question.

Today then, calling attention to displacements like the one now facing Super Pan is a matter of claiming the history of our community here for our own sake and development.

At the time of this writing, we now have a petition with our first 137 signatures supporting the family at Super Pan Bakery in their bid for more time to relocate at the FOLLOWING:

https://www.change.org/p/mitch-o-farrell-help-super-pan-bakery-of-virgil-village-get-more-time-to-relocate

Only ten years ago, 137 signatures would have required far more work to put together over the course of a few days, if not a whole week, but now we can publish a petition online calling for our people just minutes after deeming it necessary. In the 15 days before the deadline for Super Pan’s relocation is up then, we will continue to rally support from the various members of Nuestro Pueblo throughout L.A., California, and across the world who believe in our Panaderias with us.

This next week also includes a meeting with a representative for local Councilmember Mitch O’Farrell’s office, getting more of us involved in the effort, and which we’ll have notes about in our next update. In the meantime, I hope we can garner the signatures of each reader of this blog for our petition, and that you can also spread the word to your own networks and peers.

Thankful for each step in this process, and each of you,

J.T.

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Super Pan Bakery of the Virgil Village Is Being Displaced from Our Community

Elvia Perez and her family have owned Super Pan Bakery in the Virgil Village community at the intersection of Virgil and Monroe avenues for over 20 years. On any day of the week, locals could stop by the bakery on a crisp morning with less than five dollars for fresh pan dulce or sweet bread, breakfast bolillos made of eggs, cream and frijoles, warm chicken tamales, and even a cup of coffee. In a community of immigrant families where the majority of family members work at or below minimum wage, items and prices like these not only represent culture, but protect it, providing a sense of place for young and ‘old’ residents alike.

In 2017, ownership of the building where Super Pan is located changed hands, and in hopes of a fresh start with the new landlord, Elvia and her family sought a written lease agreement for the bakery with the incoming owner, then Miguel Palacios. Miguel assured the family that he would sign a lease with them, but only after they made repairs to the space.

Doña Elvia then invested over four months’ worth of time into repair and renovations for the building, including the installation of a new ceiling, new floors, and new electrical routes through the space, all of which she paid for out of her own pocket. The renovations were completed March of this year, but when Elvia presented the repairs to Palacios in search of the lease agreement, Palacios refused to sign any agreement with her.

Earlier this year, Miguel Palacios sold the property to another landlord, though not without falsely stating to the incoming owner that Doña Elvia and her family had only occupied the space at Virgil and Monroe for just two years prior. When Elvia and her family met with the new owner’s representative, then, they informed him that this was false and and that they had the tax documents since 1998 to prove it.

Although the representative sympathized with the family, however, he nevertheless informed them that sixty days to leave the property was the best he could do for them.

On August 16, 2018, the new ownership of the space gave Doña Elvia and her family a 60 day Notice to Terminate Tenancy.

As of this writing, the family now has less than 23 days to leave their 20-year-old bakery behind, where Doña Elvia’s children and even grandchildren have grown up.

Although Doña Elvia and her family are disheartened by the whole affair, they are still willing to take their things and relocate as need be, though given more time.

They would like from the new owner either assistance in finding a new location for the bakery or some financial support for their oncoming losses. Ultimately, however, the family is willing to settle for simply more time than the 23 days now looming. They would like until the end of the year to be able to gather their things, which includes more than a score of bulky items, tables, and other belongings which take time to disassemble and relocate. This cannot be an impossible request from the new ownership to grant the family, but now it’s incumbent on the community to support the family in their ask.

Over the next few blogs, we will outline a few different ways that we can support Super Pan Bakery. In the meantime, to learn more about Doña Elvia and her bakery’s place in Virgil Village, supporters can do so at This Side of Hoover HERE.

J.T.

East Hollywood Can and Must Do Better By Its Youth


In the same spirit of my peers, honoring and respecting the community’s loss of another youth whose life was taken too prematurely from, I want to reflect on a few of the details circulating about the altercation which led to the tragedy.

The following writing places this most recent loss of life in the “Virgil Village” within the context of the ongoing changes through our community, among vecindades all across Los Angeles, and throughout major cities everywhere in America.

In a picture of the collage of the memorial and candlelight vigil, one of the writings can be found to read:
fuck white people.

On seeing that note, while I couldn’t endorse the statement, I could trace immediately where its sentiment came from. Within the United States in 2018, through the prevalence of smartphones, videos and news through these mediums, there’s been an increased attention to everything absurd everywhere, but no increased attention has been as polarizing as the growing focus on what’s called white privilege in America, and the accompanying criticism of that privilege, which has had the effect of dramatically transforming how whites and nonwhites alike perceive their place in this country in a way not seen since at least the radical 1960s.

The most concerning effect of these changes has been the increased backlash from white America to the scrutiny of white privilege, including the rise of white supremacist groups, their gatherings, and the networks developed by these phenomenons, not to mention their role in electing he whom Ta-Nehisi Coates calls The First White President.
Young people across America with even remote access to smartphones have been able to access this information, although through different lenses like those of the meme, the Facebook video, or the hashtag, to see repeatedly how the institution of white privilege plays out daily throughout the United States, if not through news regarding the aforementioned backlashes, then through clips of policing that disproportionately attacks Black and Brown bodies, or through clips of rhetoric that slanders immigrants, the religion of Islam or whole other nations, and other daily media-storms ignited more often than not by the supposed leader of the ‘free’ world.
The message has been clear and consistent through each of these data, so that if there’s ever any doubt in a young person’s mind about the racialized power dynamics of the United States, the evidence is ubiquitous: that the white ‘right’ is first and above all, anywhere and everywhere like a law of the land. And because these power dynamics are daily made known, the great divide at the core of their messaging is in turn embedded into the psyches of these young people to a degree and frequency unlike anything previous generations would see when they were identified as youth in this country.

‘It’s us versus them.’
In pueblos like those of our communities, however, this problem is only compounded, not because of even more data through the screen of the smartphone–although that also has its own part–but because of the data out on the street, in the gentrification of the urban neighborhoods which our families and their predecessors were once only relegated to.

Let us be totally clear here: the neighborhood which makes up these blocks, like neighborhoods all through East and South Los Angeles, took generations to characterize or develop in the particular ways that they have been. That is, going as far back as the 1930s, the neighborhood has always lacked a certain type of quality due to the certain groups of people who were known to live here, which is to say Black, Brown, and Asian people, many with special needs, and other ‘minorities’ dealing with the ‘lower-rung’ economics that often came with starting or restarting a life in L.A. through the 20th century, the majority of whom were discriminated against or merely ‘forgotten’ by the city’s, and by extension, the country’s leadership.

This is why, for example, in the late 1940s and 1950s, the 101 Freeway, among others, tore its way through East Los to open up a path for more of Hollywood’s commuters onto Santa Ana–because the people on the Eastside were Chicanos of humble means who would simply have to get out of the way; it is also why the same freeway tore its way through our own vecindad in that process–because the people of our neighborhood–the Blacks, Latinos, Asians, and others–were also people of humble means who would simply have to get with the program or get lost.
Half a century later, from 1998 – 2000, that same humility of means for the people of la vecindad played a major part in why the local police force, the Rampart division, saw a grand total of 70 of its police officers indicted for decades’ worth of charges on corruption when its special task-force, the ‘CRASH‘ or ‘Community Resources Against Street Hoodlums’ unit, was found to have perpetrated scores of unprovoked shootings and beatings of our youth in their patrols through our neighborhoods, the planting of evidence and framing of those same youth, stealing from the department, perjury, and more.

Twenty years later, of the 70 officers implicated by the investigation into Rampart’s ‘CRASH‘ unit, only five of those officers are known to have been terminated as a result of the findings; the humility of means of their victims in these crimes has much to do with those numbers.
But there is a ‘flip’ side to such histories: the fact is that through each period before the one we share today, to any discrimination against the character of a people there has also been a resistance and opposition.

In Rampart’s case, two years after the indictment of its CRASH unit: “Defense attorneys [were] still scrutinizing thousands of convictions that might have been tainted by Rampart wrongdoing, and plaintiffs’ attorneys [were] awaiting settlement decisions in a hundred and fifty lawsuits and claims against the city.”

In the 1950s, when it came to the construction of the freeways in East Los: “Residents did fight back, flooding public meetings and picketing construction sites. But unlike the mostly white and politically powerful neighborhoods that killed plans for a Beverly Hills Freeway, L.A.’s Eastside couldn’t stop the bulldozer. By the early 1960s, all seven of the planners’ freeways crisscrossed the community.”

And in a similar spirit of resistance, the oldest ‘gang’ in Los Angeles, the White Fence gang of the Boyle Heights area, was formed in the 1940s as a way for Chicano youth in that part of The City to defend themselves against their white counterparts when the latter targeted and attacked them without penalty from law enforcement. To be sure, the documented Zoot Suit ‘Riots’ of Los Angeles in 1943 speak precisely to how this played out.
We are of course not in the 1940s or 1950s anymore, but these periods are still relevant to us not only because of the parallels between them and the state of violence in the U.S. against its ‘others’ today, but also because of their legacy for both white and nonwhite Angelenos when it comes to occupying spaces in proximity to one another today, as we do increasingly in the 21st century.

For historians of Los Angeles, then, or for anyone with an interest in how the city came to be, and how it is still coming to be, there’s a responsibility to make these histories and others known.

The same day as this most recent tragedy in our neighborhood, the White House made a press release dated for May 21, 2018 entitled What You Need to Know About the Violent Animals of MS-13. The memo references President Trump’s State of the Union speech, when he called upon as his guests the parents of two young women who were killed in Long Island, New York by alleged gang members and proceeds to list a few handpicked details of that tragedy.

The memo then follows this account with brief mention of other cases and selected details from their records as to how the alleged gang members behind them carried out their crimes. It is a thinly veiled form of propaganda designed to rile up support for an official dehumanization of youth identified as ‘gang members’. But rather than hailing from an ‘alt-right’ website or straight out of some neo-nazi’s basement, the statement is listed as the official position of the executive branch of the United States.

Of course, the memo is from the office of the same president who just last summer had the audacity to claim after the white supremacist gathering in Charlottesville, Virginia, which cost Heather Heyer’s–a Jewish woman–her life, that between the white supremacists whose intention it was to attack and the counter-protesters who defended themselves from their assaults, there were “good people on both sides”.
It’s likely that the youth at the heart of our community’s most recent loss, like most of the people in the neighborhood, did not hear about the memo, but it’s also likely that over the last year and a half in particular, he and several of his peers did hear about the litany of racist, misogynist and ableist put-downs from the president who as a candidate for executive branch promised to ‘build a wall’ between the United States and neighboring Mexico, as if there isn’t one there already.

Yet even through the days of the president’s candidacy and on through his administration’s memo last week, neither his uninspired words nor those of his staff could actually so much as graze the curb of the street that my peers and I stand on, let alone graze us, for they are words made for televisions which our generation turned off years ago for have nothing to do with the airs we’re concerned with in our day to day mechanisms of survival. It is the histories on which such statements are built that do and have had a lasting impact on our communities, however. Jeff Sessions looks to be John Wayne in the 21st century, but this time the natives are gang members.

It is a central concern of this writing that in the city of Los Angeles in the 21st century, many of the natives of the neighborhoods here are so-called ‘gang members’ and their families, who have made life through the intersections of their barrios daily and over decades, but who now find themselves increasingly cornered by an enemy of far greater proportions than any other clique in the process that is the gentrification of la vecindad. The influx of middle-class types making their way through these blocks, who’ve never encountered people like them before, is sanctioned by the state and seemingly immutable. But to be clear: I’m not implying that the youth whose passing this writing discusses was any kind of ‘gang member’, although he may have been perceived as such, but I am pointing out that in occupying a space in this neighborhood the youth was part of an environment which for decades has been considered ‘less than’ worthy of many of The City officials’ time and concern, if not only worthy of contempt by many of the city’s police forces. I am also not implying that the newcomers of the neighborhood view la vecindad in this diminished light, but I do believe it’s important that they be aware of how this has been the case for communities here since before World War II.

As with the freeways in the 1950s, the redevelopment of the neighborhood by means of its gentrification happened quickly, that is, in our perception of it, and with such normalization from the city’s leadership that it can be difficult to understand or interpret altogether, but because it’s taking place at the same time that the hordes of data described at the beginning of this writing filter through so many of our screens, one sentiment seems to make perfect sense in it all:

fuck them.

In a recent essay for The Atlantic on the increasing inequality characterizing America, writer Matthew Stewart reflects on just why people might feel so much resentment towards his class, which is upper ‘middle-class’ and overwhelmingly white. This is also known as The New Aristocracy:

“We live in safer neighborhoods, go to better schools, have shorter commutes, receive higher-quality health care, and, when circumstances require, serve time in better prisons. We also have more friends—the kind of friends who will introduce us to new clients or line up great internships for our kids.”

It has circulated throughout the neighborhood that the shooter who took the life of the youth referred to in this writing was a white man acting in self-defense. It’s a damning circumstance to consider under the context, but one can see how the color of a man’s skin when he takes the life of another ultimately changes nothing about how the latter’s loss will be felt.

One can also see, however, the way in which to the young people who have just lost their friend, everything–including the presidency, the policing, and the gentrification which is welcomed by so many of the local ‘elected’ officials whom are supposed to represent them–all actually adds up to place them, the youth, in defense.

This was the case in the 1950s when the residents of Boyle Heights stood against the freeways. It was a defense of their neighborhoods. And it was even true in 1943 just as well, when Black and Chicano youth in Los Angeles defended themselves against the Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome projected onto them by the Navy’s sailors at that time.

The fact of the matter is that many of the lives of the youth in our vecindad are in danger; even if they and their families have made their way through these intersections for several lifetimes, they are all at the risk of being displaced. It’s a subtle form of the warfare of wealth, but warfare nevertheless against the character of their humble means like that which their predecessors saw.

And in resisting that warfare, as I do in solidarity with my peers all throughout Los Angeles, it does not mean it’s time to prepare for 1992’s Los Angeles to make its way through the streets again.

Rather, it means that all of the members of our community, old and new alike, need to seek an end to the collective violence inflicted on our respective communities together, with the shared goal of transforming the current trend of redeveloping our streets only to displace our families into redeveloping these streets for the purpose of coalition-building alongside us.

It’s only in this way that all of us–from the so-called ‘gang members’, to the Senior citizens, to the children with special needs, to the single mothers, to the young professionals from far away starting over in L.A., and more–will be able to share the endless intersections between us in true harmony, honor and respect, and free of the great division that is so frequently trying to be enforced upon us.

I am willing to stand for it. Indeed, I have to. But I know I’m not the only one who is willing to do so and that gives me hope: we can and have got to do better together Los Angeles. But the work begins now. Every day our youth depend on it.

J.T.