Since the Trump administration launched its crackdown on illegal immigration in late-January, many garages in the Big Apple have been overwhelmed with idle food trucks.
Ninety-six percent of the estimated 23,000 food vendors in New York City were born outside the United States, according to a recent survey. And around 57% of food vendors said they were undocumented (27%) or preferred not to answer (30%). As a result, the garages — some the size of airplane hangars — are experiencing rush hours day and night, unable to accommodate more clients. The owners of the food trucks, meanwhile, face the extra expense of having to park their vehicles without being able to make money. Fear of being detained or deported has driven many away from the streets.
The laws regulating this sector were already being more tightly-enforced before Trump’s inauguration — due to City Hall restrictions — while the granting of permits has been frozen for years. But now, the possibility of being fined for operating without a license could also make food vendors a target for Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).
The nonprofit Street Vendor Project has asked City Hall to pass new laws to protect vendors, including one to repeal criminal liability for illegal street vending and another to lift permit limits. The association’s lawyers have even been forced to escort street vendors to criminal court, as tickets are handed out for unlicensed vending.
Sammy’s Garage in Manhattan used to be empty during the day, while the 30 food carts parked there roamed the city streets, offering halal food, hot dogs and ice cream. But Trump’s inauguration changed the situation. The carts are now confined indoors, with the owners and workers preferring to sacrifice their income rather than expose themselves to public view. A simple request for papers could lead to deportation.
Jimmy — a second-generation street vendor with U.S. citizenship — explains the transformation of the food truck business. EL PAÍS has concealed his real name to avoid providing identifying details. “Some of the vendors we’ve been working with for years are locked inside their homes, too scared to go outside,” he explains. “We don’t leave the door open like we used to; now, we’ve installed cameras to check who’s knocking,” he adds. The fear of a raid has become a daily reality.
Double offensive
Although there are no official figures that detail the number of vendors who have parked their trucks, their absence is evident in areas such as Roosevelt Avenue in Queens, where the quality and availability of street food has even made it into tourist guides. Since January, the area has been the target of a specific cleanup campaign decreed by the City Council, called “Operation Restore Roosevelt.”
In addition to the financial losses for those who depend on these businesses, the disappearance of street food stalls from the urban map has aggravated the daily food budget of many New Yorkers. Without the food trucks, carts, or the more precarious and artisanal stalls that many migrant women used to operate in the aforementioned neighborhood, the usual recourse to a quick, tasty and cheap snack is now an endangered option.
The two parallel offensives — with the Republican administration acting against illegal immigration and the City Council attempting to restrict street vending — have created a tense atmosphere, aggravated by New York City Mayor Eric Adams’ offer of police cooperation to the Trump administration in the hunt for undocumented immigrants. The NYPD issued 1,504 criminal citations to street vendors between January and September 2024, surpassing the 1,244 for all of 2023, according to the department’s latest data. And, in the first-quarter of this year, during the aforementioned municipal cleanup campaign, there were 600 police interventions and 12,000 enforcement actions.
Translated by Avik Jain Chatlani.
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