Save Lincoln Place Apartments! Venice, California

Letter From Elena Popp on Lincoln Place Silent Vigil

Dear Tenants and Neighbors:

I have been an activist for social change since the mid-1970s and, although I consider myself a spiritual person, when it comes to effectuating change, I prefer action and protest to meditation and even prayer. Nonetheless, on Sunday, January 29, 2006 I found myself at Lincoln Place in Venice at what being dubbed a silent vigil.

I went to the vigil at Lincoln Place with some hesitation. As an attorney, I represent approximately 140 families facing eviction from their homes. After an unsuccessful battle which is now in the appellate courts, nearly half of my clients were displaced in a raid of this otherwise peaceful community just before Christmas. Seventy very low income seniors and folks with disabilities are slated to be evicted in March and I was annoyed that in spite of the urgency of the situation, the action for the day was a silent walk around the property and a meditative vigil.

I was disappointed at the turnout as I joined the circle. Pastor Tom was talking about the power of ritual and storytelling as I approached. During his talk, my mind wandered a bit to all the things I had to get done before the end of the day and I contemplated my escape route. And then he stopped, handed us each an index card and a pencil and sent us on our way to walk either a short route within the Lincoln Place Community or a long route around the community .... in silence.

As I took my first steps I started listing the benefits of participating and decided I needed the exercise. As I progressed, I re-learned a lesson on the power of meditation. Walking among the mix of abandoned and occupied buildings I wondered about the people who had made their lives at Lincoln Place. Through the fences and boarded windows the beauty of this community still struggles to break through.

A discarded toy made me think of my meeting the prior Sunday with one of the displaced children. Her mother had told me that this little girl, who I will call Aurora to protect her anonymity, had been having nightmares. I shared with mom that my family had been evicted from our home when I was 8 years old and offered to talk to Aurora. Aurora had told her mom that she was scared. As we explored we realized that, in fact, mom had successfully persuaded Aurora that there was nothing to fear ... they are safe at grandma's and eventually they will get their own home.

Having determined that the nightmares are not about being afraid, we continued to talk and after a long and very wiggly conversation we figured out that Aurora is sad. Aurora did not have a name for her sadness so we gave it one. Aurora is homesick. If Aurora were an adult she would say that she misses the wonderful sense of community at Lincoln Place, the green open areas and the beautiful old buildings and the way the neighbors all know each other and help each other. But Aurora is 4 and what she misses is her friend Mindy and all the other kids who would play in the yard in front of her house for hours on end and eventually end up at the home of an elderly neighbor who could always be persuaded to feed them.

As I progressed on my walk my path crossed with one of the nay-saying tenants who was heading for the store. She has been a thorn in my side and strongly dislikes me. By this point I was in a seriously meditative and spiritual space and my Mexican Catholic sensibilities were front and center. Instead of seeing the horribly annoying woman of the regular Sunday meetings I saw a senior who is frightened of the impending displacement from her home and has chosen to lash out at those who are trying to be of service. She looked away and ignored me and I forged ahead pondering all of the little timing factors that fell in place resulting in the two of us reaching that corner at exactly the same time.

My mind turned back to 1985 and the day I joined the student anti-apartheid movement at UCLA. After a sit-in at Murphy Hall students flooded Schoenberg Quad and set up a tent City where we lived for several months. I remembered all the small and seemingly inconsequential acts of resistance that made up that struggle and how each had built on the next and had joined with the seemingly inconsequential acts of resistance of others and how those seemingly inconsequenial acts of resistance lead to the downfall of a racist and oppressive system.

I then thought about the role I had played in slowing the nuclear arms race by engaging in acts of resistance at the Nevada nuclear weapons test site in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

I thought about three decades of activism starting with the grape and Gallo wine boycotts of the mid-1970s. About all the tenants I have worked with and all the successful struggles to chip away at poverty in this great city of ours.

I thought about my Abuelito (grandfather) who fought in the Mexican revolution and did land redistribution work under Las Leyes de Zapata, representing campesinos (farmworkers) against multi-national corporations that tried to take their land. He was a "People's Lawyer" just as I am a "People's Lawyer" and when I am tired I feel his will and his force rise up inside of me and I go on.

I thought about all of this and felt proud.

Before I knew it I was approaching the circle of activists that was re-forming. I looked up and saw Jataun, of the Oakwood Seniors and the Venice Action Coalition. Jatuan is one of those powerful women that comes in a very small package. She had arrived after the walk started and had chosen the shorter route and our paths met and we hugged and I was proud of all the anti-gentrification work we have done together in the Oakwood neighborhood of Venice since 1988 when the Holiday Venice Tenant Action Committee made its way to my office and asked me to help them save their homes. I was pleased by the symbolism in the crossing of our paths and was persuaded that I was at the right place doing exactly what I needed to be doing.

Pastor Tom asked us to write what we had learned during our walk and we did. He then asked us to share. The power of storytelling and of sharing is seriously underestimated by activists like myself who focus on constant action. I was particularly touched by Mary's story (not her real name). Mary is one of our seniors. She has lived at Lincoln Place for nearly three decades and, because of her limited income, has no place to go. She talked about the sadness of passing a particular address and remembering the children who had played there and the beautiful time she had with them and of how much she missed them. I wondered if Aurora was one of those children and if she had given them cookies and milk after school. I blinked my tears away.

And then Pearl (not her name) who is in her 90s shared one very simple sentence. "I have lived at Lincoln Place for 36 years and I don't want to leave." Her voice cracked and tears rolled down her face and we all felt her pain and I flashed to that inevitable moment of conflict when the Sheriff's Department will come to her door to take her out of her home. She has told me that she has no intention of leaving voluntarily both because she has no place to go and because she loves Lincoln Place. I have been using my legal mind to find a way to save Pearl's home for nearly a year now. On the day of that inevitable conflict when the Sheriff comes to physically remove Pearl from her home I will stand with her and invite you to do the same.

There were 25 people in that circle and I pictured that next week there will be 50. And I meditated on the power of doubling the numbers each week and inspiring participants to return week after week until we create the groundswell that will persuade the owner, AIMCO, to be a good corporate citizen.

While I was writing this I received a news flash that Coretta Scott King has passed. Mrs. King made the ultimate sacrifice to the struggle. Her husband was taken from her and she persevered and struggled on and the world is a better place because of her. Aurora, Pearl, and Mary will also struggle on and their struggle makes the world a better place.

Please join us on Sundays at 1:30 PM sharp on Frederick and California (one block east of Lincoln Blvd., south of Rose Avenue and North of Venice Blvd in Venice). Meet the courageous tenants of Lincoln Place. Help us save their homes.

Elena Popp

webmaster