By ANJU HIGASHI
My friends and I press our small faces to the chilled glass of the display case, admiring the pillowy, multi-colored daifuku. Each of our excited hands grabs a long-awaited piece of sticky rice cake, and we giggle over sweet bites of rainbow mochi from Fugetsu-do, our fingers and smiles sticky with laughter.
We wander through Bunkado, shuffling through the aisles in search of cat-shaped trinkets and Ghibli postcards like hidden treasure, careful not to knock over the delicate Japanese ceramics.
I remember my friends’ faces lighting up as they tried a bite of okonomiyaki, hesitant at first, but quickly won over by the sweet and salty flavors.
These were some of my many “firsts” in Little Tokyo. And I don’t want them to become “lasts.”
Having lived in communities across the globe, I’ve come to realize the importance of “place.” While I don’t remember much of my few years living in Japan, I was able to find an even deeper connection in L.A. and Little Tokyo – a sense of home and identity that was uniquely Japanese American.
I found a culture built on resilience and pride, and a community I’ve been so lucky to be a part of. Little Tokyo was not only a physical neighborhood that was always there for me, but was a place containing countless warm memories of my own as well as all of the generations before.
Just like water shapes itself to the land it flows through, a neighborhood reflects the shape of its history and the people who have lived there. Thus, Little Tokyo holds memories of hardship, celebration, survival, and connection it has experienced over the years.
These memories live in Little Tokyo’s small businesses – through the traditional family recipes, black-and-white photos along the walls, and the energetic irasshaimase! as you enter the store. The signature sights of Little Tokyo that are so familiar and often overlooked hold decades of history behind them.
However, the Cold Storage project threatens to reshape the beautiful Little Tokyo we know into something unrecognizable. The new building would take up 7.5 acres and include 10 buildings, some rising as high as 30 stories.
It promises luxury apartments, rooftop pools, and a dog park, but it doesn’t offer what the community actually needs: affordable housing, support for small businesses, or infrastructure that actually strengthens local life.
Instead, these towers will drive up property values and commercial rents, making it even harder for Little Tokyo’s small businesses and community structure to survive.
Development should support people, not erase them. And in Little Tokyo, it’s the small businesses that have always supported the people. These shops and restaurants don’t just sell, but they serve the heart and cultural soul of the community.
Through food, service, and tradition, they sustain the very identity that the Cold Storage Project threatens to erase. They hold the neighborhood together culturally and economically by hosting community events and offering discounts that reflect local needs.
As Mariko Lochridge, community leader and founder of the Small Biz Hype Squad, explains, small businesses recycle 80 to 90 cents of every dollar back into the community, whereas large corporate retailers return at most 40 cents.
She also notes that gentrification creates a “desire to create a sameness that erases identity from across our really unique neighborhoods.” Therefore, gentrification not only affects individual businesses, but puts the entire spirit of Little Tokyo at risk.
Unfortunately, this kind of “development” doesn’t appear out of nowhere, and is part of a long history of displacement in Little Tokyo. During World War II and Japanese American incarceration, many Little Tokyo residents were forced to sell their homes and businesses. When they returned after the war, they had to build back their lives with little to no financial help from the government.
In the 1950s, the Civic Center expansion and construction of a new LAPD headquarters destroyed entire blocks of housing and commercial space, pushing out countless families. Even over the past 15 years, Little Tokyo has lost more than 50 small businesses, especially during the COVID-19 pandemic and after the Metro expansion.
Most recently, we’ve seen the relocation of the beloved Suehiro Cafe, the closures of Mikawaya and Little Tokyo Arts & Gifts, and Mr. Ramen is now the last remaining family-owned restaurant on historic First Street. All of the establishments we’ve lost weren’t just businesses – they were spaces full of memory, stories, and relationships.
Yet, despite these setbacks, Little Tokyo has always survived. During the Great Depression, local shop owners kept their employees even when they couldn’t afford to, because they refused to let each other go hungry.
Many almost lost the Japanese language from fear of alienation after World War II, but ultimately held tightly onto the culture that we are able to display pridefully today.
The COVID-19 pandemic was difficult for small business owners and the Little Tokyo residents, but they persevered through community support, one example being a meal program where elders could receive bento packed by local restaurants. Through hardship, the Little Tokyo community has stepped up to support small businesses that have always been there for us.
Today, that legacy is in our hands. As the next generation, we inherit the responsibility not just to protect Little Tokyo’s past, but to carry its values into the future. Little Tokyo has endured displacement, war, redevelopment, and pandemics, and it can endure this too – if we choose to show up. We can speak out, support small businesses, and stand with the community.
Would you rather see a child walking through Japanese Village Plaza under red lanterns, or staring up at a concrete tower? What happens when a historic neighborhood is swallowed by buildings that don’t remember what came before them?
It’s easy to demolish a building in days, but almost impossible to rebuild the meaning it once held. History isn’t just written in books – it’s embedded in the sidewalks, in handwritten menus, and in locals calling business owners by name.
The histories of Little Tokyo still live here, and we hold the key to keeping them alive.
The 4th & Central project will be on the agenda for the Los Angeles Planning Commission’s meeting on Thursday, Oct. 9, at 8:30 a.m. at Los Angeles City Hall, John Ferraro Council Chamber, third floor, Room 340, 200 N. Spring St., Los Angeles. The meeting can be accessed via Zoom at https://planning-lacity-org.zoom.us/j/86178216183 or by calling (213) 338-8477 or (669) 900-9128. Use meeting ID 861 7821 6183 and passcode 186931. The ability to provide public comment remotely cannot be guaranteed.
Articles for you
AloJapan.com