Martha woke up in a cold sweat Sunday. She had another nightmare about being in jail and separated from her family.
She’s been struggling to pay bills lately, and is worried about some debt she has back in her native Ecuador. Recently, she was also notified she has until November 1 to vacate her apartment due to alleged noise complaints.
But, she said, her nightmares are more the result of recent run-ins with Minneapolis police and city employees warning her against continuing to work and fining her $800 for allegedly violating city code. But Martha, a 38-year-old single mother of two, maintains that she’s no criminal.
She’s just a street vendor.
“I completely turn off and I don’t feel like doing anything,” Martha said remembering the day she received her latest citation. “And that day it happened to me. I sold absolutely nothing and threw away all the food. And it really makes me so, so angry about everything that happened to me.”
However, to the city she represents a growing problem — unlicensed food vendors selling hot food, fruit and homemade crafts in city parks and alongside city streets.
Martha, whose last name Sahan Journal is not publishing because of her undocumented status, told her story Sunday morning at a gathering of street vendors organized by Minnesota Immigrant Movement, a nonprofit immigrant rights group, and Minneapolis City Council Member Jason Chavez’s office.
About two dozen vendors were present, all of them Ecuadorians who have been in the United States no more than three years, and who are mostly undocumented.
Some had white envelopes in hand emblazoned with “Administrative Citation” across the front in red ink. They waved them in the air when asked, “Have any of you received citations for selling?”
Minneapolis Health Department’s Director of Environmental Health, Cindy Weckwerth told Sahan Journal in late August that no citations were given to street vendors in 2024.
Sunday’s gathering was organized to collect information for a proposed ordinance Chavez is crafting that would grant street vendors a license to sell their products in compliance with city code. Vendors were surveyed about how the proposed ordinance could better accommodate their needs.
Chavez’s proposed ordinance would create a new license for street vendors, although approval for sales at city parks, where most of them sell, would still be decided by the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board.
There’s no license available currently that fits the various vendors’ needs, Chavez said.
The vendors have been selling at street corners, in between cars in traffic, at intersections and at parks since late Spring of 2023. Some sell fruit and beverages while others sell hot food, such as grilled meats or platters, that are customary for vendors in Ecuador.
“Who here is scared to go out and sell?” a city staffer asked the group at the start of Sunday’s meeting.
Every hand in the room shot up.
Attendees said they’re concerned about encounters with Minneapolis police and city inspectors, fines and the possibility of deportation.
Some attendees said they haven’t started selling food yet because of those concerns, but were interested in vending once a license became available. They, like Martha, have a history of selling food dating back to their time in Ecuador. They also said it’s a way to make money and help pay bills.
The number of asylum cases from Ecuador in Minnesota’s immigration court surged by 900% in the last five years, according to the Syracuse University TRAC database.
Martha has lived in Minnesota for just over a year, and is seeking asylum, a legal form of protection granted to people fleeing their homelands for a variety of reasons including violence economic, and political conditions.
Martha said four blouses is all she’s managed to acquire since coming to the United States, and that’s only because they were given to her. Selling food is the only way she’s been able to make money.
She said she could possibly obtain a work permit by May, and can’t legally work until then.
In an effort to maintain her independence, Martha’s taken to selling her homemade empanadas to support herself and her two boys.
“It is nerve-racking not to have a job, because I have never stolen and I don't think I will either, or selling my body, standing on a corner, things like that are something that are not for me,” Martha said. “I like to earn my bread with my own work with something dignified.”
Martha said she makes about $70 to $80 a day selling her colada morada, an Ecuadorian hot beverage made of fruits, spices and corn flour, and empanadas at Powderhorn Park.
Martha said she started selling on Sundays beginning in June.
The city first sent Martha a $200 citation in July for not having a sidewalk cart license. She said she paid the fine by borrowing money from her children’s father.
Then, she said, things escalated last Friday.
Martha said she was approached by a city inspector, but this time the citation was already printed out and addressed to her. She was also video recorded and photographed by police. Confused and angry at the situation, Martha said she began video recording the inspector and police, too.
“I don't have a job, tell me what do I do?” Martha said as she recalled her interactions with city employees. “Who is going to take care of my children? Because I have small children.”
She said she was given a citation that Friday for $600. The inspector said next time her equipment would be confiscated. She said she was also told that a future violation would result in a judicial order that could result in her detention.
Licenses don’t accommodate all vendors
Amy Lingo, manager of licenses and consumer services for the city, said fruit vendors haven’t been cited by the city, but vendors selling hot food have been cited.
So far this year, 28 citations have been given to unlicensed vendors in Minneapolis, she said, adding that the citation numbers are higher this year because inspectors took more of an educational approach to enforcement in 2023.
“The fruit vendor, there's not a license that would allow them to operate in that manner. For Powderhorn Park and those food vendors, there is a path of licensure for them. So that's why we're having the different approaches,” Lingo said.
The first citation starts at $200. Anytime the same violation is subsequently fined to the same person, the fee doubles until it hits a maximum of $2,000, Lingo said.
Vendors who are fined are also subject to reinspections to make sure they’re in compliance. Those reinspections can also lead to new citations. Reinspections could occur daily.
Martha said the treatment she received felt like harassment.
But Lingo said it’s all a matter of enforcement, and that enforcement is more prevalent in some areas of the city.
“So, because Powderhorn [Park] has been an issue, and we do receive the complaints, and because the behavior is not improving, we do have to continue to monitor the situation,” Lingo said.
Lingo said some vendors in Powderhorn Park and other areas of the city are receiving citations because they can technically obtain a license.
Vendors who are cited can appeal them.
Before vendors are fined, they’re given resources and information in multiple languages that instruct them how to get proper licensing, said Cindy Weckwerth, director of environmental health for the Minneapolis Health Department.
Vendors are sometimes approached by officers or inspectors that speak Spanish in an effort to get them in compliance with city codes, she said.
The city held classes throughout the summer at Waite House and Corcoran Park food shelves about how to obtain proper food vendor licensing. Many of the classes were held in Spanish.
Proposed ordinance in early stages
Martha said she’s received the pamphlets and information, but has also been told she wouldn't be allowed to sell food at gas stations, sidewalks or parks.
The courses required for licensure also take time and the fees are too high, she said. Plus, she doesn’t have reliable childcare, either.
Martha said she’s tempted to sell again to make money, but is scared of the consequences. She’s now waiting for the outcome of Chavez’s proposed ordinance.
But the proposal’s language hasn’t been crafted yet. Chavez and his co-author, Council Member Aurin Chowdhury, are still working to draft the ordinance’s language.
Chavez said that the earliest a potential ordinance could go into effect would be next spring. He also noted that not all street vendors in the city are undocumented.
Some vendors, he said, choose to sell food because of struggles in the job market.
“This is one of the only ways that they're able to work to provide income for their families, rent and food,” he said.
A visibly upset Chavez said at Sunday’s meeting that he didn’t agree with citing immigrant vendors who are new to the city trying to make a living.
“It's been heartbreaking to be honest, to hear them talk firsthand about how they don't feel supported, how they feel like they're being targeted, and how they feel like what they're doing isn't wrong and it's not wrong, to be clear, it's not wrong to be able to try to make a living,” Chavez said.
He said the proposed ordinance would attempt to include a variety of vendors.
The current path for licensure for vendors like Martha mainly consist of licenses for a sidewalk food cart or food truck, and can be obtained regardless of documentation status, according to Lingo.
Licensing and processing fees for both options added up to more than $1,000 in 2024, according to the city website.
Weckwerth said a current contract with the Latino Economic Development Center could help offset those costs. The partnership includes a $20,000 contract meant to help with vendor education, licensing fees and equipment purchases.
Chavez said he wants the proposed ordinance to streamline the process for all vendors, because many have expressed confusion with the process.
In a video Martha shared with Sahan Journal and Chavez showing her latest citation, an inspector tells her there’s no license that would permit her to sell in the City of Minneapolis. Chavez said such incidents contribute to the ongoing confusion among vendors.
“These vendors are getting told mixed messages,” Chavez said. “And what we're trying to do is say, ‘Hey, let's find a way to address the public health concerns that people have, while also being able to expand the places that people can be able to sell their food freely, without feeling targeted, without having the police called on them.’”
Martha hopes Chavez’s ordinance is approved while she waits for a work permit. But she’s also worried about the odds of finding a job even with a work permit, because other vendors who can work legally have told her the job market is tough.
“If they give me a work permit and I don't get a job, then really, what am I going to do?” Martha said. “The only way I can defend myself is by just selling food.”
She said she’s unsure of her future, but would remain determined to build a life for herself in the United States, not only for herself, but also for her children. As she recounted her experiences in an interview with Sahan Journal Monday afternoon, surrounded by her two sons, Martha said all she could do was cry.
In a moment of desperation, she said she wanted to give up and “throw in the towel.” But as she wiped away tears from her eyes, her oldest son, an 11-year-old who recently saw her receive a citation, approached her and said he was happy.
He’s started learning English, and is doing good in school, Martha said. He doesn’t want to give that up.
“I start to think, I don't have economic benefits, I don't, but the benefit is that my children are at least studying, and that's what keeps me a little calm,” Martha said.
Correction: The source of Minnesota asylum data has been updated in this story.
