Granny Flats, Homes on Wheels and the Homeless: Tough Choices in City Planning

By Maryam Zar | Special to the Palisadian-Post

Quality of life is a recurring Palisadian theme.

Whether it’s the response time of LAPD, the distinct service of our two fire stations, the safety of our streets, the pace of development, the aesthetics of our utilities, the maintenance of our mountain trails and beaches, the route of our busses, the frequency of our street services, the quantity of alcohol licenses, or the quality of our retailers, the signage they deploy, or the hours they operate, we take the preservation of our archetypal community seriously.

Homelessness has also factored into the discourse from time to time.

While the Pacific Palisades Task Force on Homelessness works hard to manage transients in Pacific Palisades by stemming the flow of new homeless people into our neighborhoods and encouraging others to transition out of homelessness by accepting services, new laws are contemplated citywide, which could impact the face of homelessness here in the Palisades.

Recently, the Accessory Dwelling Unit ordinance has been up for discussion at City Council. The ADU, or “granny flats,” regulations are unpopular in the Palisades, just as shared housing and sober living units are, because they threaten the character of our neighborhoods.

While some argue that these are planning issues and not housing issues, they do address a density narrative aimed at increasing affordable housing units in a city with an undeniable shortage. The tension between creating new housing options and preserving the inherent character of R1 neighborhoods like the Palisades and its environs, gives way to a debate that will be hard fought among advocates of robust single-family zones and activists for increased density in housing.

Just last month, the overnight dwelling ordinance passed with new parking rules, essentially disallowing homeless people to live in their cars on certain streets by making it illegal to park there overnight. This, contrasted with the fact that sleeping (living) on the sidewalk is legal in Los Angeles, seems ironic that people can’t sleep in their cars in some spots, but can get out of the car and sleep on the sidewalk in the very same spot.

When viewed within the specter of family homelessness, the ordinance seems particularly harsh. Here in the Palisades, there are at least two families who live in a vehicle (of some sort) and are homeless. Their children attend the same schools as mine.

This month at LA City Council, a provision was introduced by Councilmember Jose Huizar, within the scope of the ADU/Granny Flats ordinance, proposing that “tiny homes on wheels” qualify as an allowable dwelling under the ADUs. Presumably, this is an attempt to either make vehicle dwelling legal in some defined way or to allow the onset of a trend in some cities called “tiny homes” to take hold here in LA, where any attempt to construct them has been frowned upon.

The backdrop of this debate over Planning or Housing, R1 preservation or density promotion, is that roughly 37 percent of homeless people in America are families, with nearly 1.5 million children sleeping without a home each night.

More than 85 percent of homeless families are headed by women. Out of every four homeless women, one is homeless because of multiple forms of violence committed against her. The impact of homelessness on mothers is profound. Many experience anger, self-blame, sadness, fear and hopelessness.

For many women, homelessness is a choice between remaining in an abusive relationship or walking away, often onto the street. One woman now living in her car near the beach stayed in an abusive relationship for years. She had two children with her partner and for as long as they were little, she could not leave them. Once they were old enough not to need her constant care, she left in the middle of the night and ended up in Santa Monica, where, at the time, there was a community of homeless women.

She stayed for a few days and went back to visit her children. She was welcomed but then the abuse started with even more intensity. She left, with her kids and her car. The car became their mobile, safe home. She later found a partner who wasn’t abusive, with whom she had another child. They now all live in an RV, and the brunt of the burden of raising children while homeless is on the mother. She works and raises her kids, making sure they attend school and do their homework. The father remains lethargically at her side.

For another single mom who parks her car at a local church, home is a minivan, out of which she lives with her daughters. She frets about their future and wonders if she can offer them the education that can free them from the clutch of homelessness. She herself is burdened by the abuse she experienced as a young girl. As she grew into adulthood she fell into a relationship that was rooted in her ability to endure the abuse. She ended up with twin girls, whom she now worries will seek refuge in an unhealthy relationship, much the same way that she did.

Women come to homelessness after experiencing the kind of abuse that can be demoralizing. It marks their psyche with a distrust of the world around them. Domestic violence and an unyielding cycle of poverty, perpetuated by dwindling opportunities prompted by mental illness and bouts of homelessness, can hamstring women and keep them in an unending limbo that takes them from partner to partner, abuse to abuse, and, eventually, life on the street with children.

To the extent that homelessness is generational, the impact of experiencing homelessness is most acutely left on children. Studies show that children often perpetuate the cycle of homelessness by losing faith in their own ability to master the routine of life. Their schooling suffers from not having a stable place to read, do homework or study; their concentration span is reduced if they are hungry; their commitment to the long, slow, slog through school wanes with the strain of homelessness and the struggle they often see their single parent, most likely a mom, endure.

The mom who lives in her car in the church lot said her saving grace is her faith in a school system that promises to educate her daughters. She chooses to live in her car so she can be close to schools and ensure attendance.

Today there are more resources than ever to combat female homelessness and assist families off the street. In Washington, D.C., the National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty works with local partners and resources on the ground in many communities across America to assist families experiencing homelessness. Here in LA, the Downtown Women’s Center focuses uniquely on the plight of homeless women to meet their unique needs and offer them not only services and housing, but an opportunity to regain dignity, rehabilitate their trust, refocus their abilities and work toward advancement.

As with veteran homelessness, which was a mark on our society perceived as a collective moral failing by so many, family homelessness is no less a significant ethical breach of our covenant to children and mothers. Veteran homelessness was finally addressed through the dedication of resources and the identification of the subset as a priority within the homeless community.

Women and children need the same allocation of urgent priority. Letting them down by looking away should not be an option.