On July 30, New York City Mayor Eric Adams went full MAGA, vetoing the City Council bill Intro 47-B, which decriminalizes street vending. The good news: The council may yet override Adams’ action.

What we’re seeing here is a continuation of the mayor’s genuflection to the Trump Administration’s war on immigrants, in a deal to deflect corruption charges that he faced before Trump came into office. But what about the street vendors?

Prior to 1938, when Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia began clearing street vendors from Manhattan’s congested streets, street vending was widespread, especially on the island’s lower east side.  

La Guardia’s intentions were not necessarily anti-immigrant. He saw street vending as a source of clutter and smell that was also preventing immigrant vendors from becoming fully integrated into a modern city. By creating an indoor market on Essex Street and another on Arthur Avenue, many of the vending businesses were moved indoors. Between 1934 and 1941, the city closed more than 40 open-air markets, bringing the total down to 15 from a high of 56, and the number of permits issued to peddlers declined to fewer than 1,000 from a peak of 4,934. 

The Essex Street Market, located along Essex between Delancey and Rivington streets, occupied several buildings and operated as a city-owned market with a mission to serve the local community. There were vendors inside the market, including fishmongers and butchers, bakers, and produce purveyors. Most of the stalls were run by immigrants or the children of immigrants, hailing from places like Uzbekistan, Korea, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic, reflecting the community that surrounded it.

In May 2019, a larger, modern space for the vendors of the historic public market opened its doors right across from the original market site, part of the new “SPURA” development.

These indoor markets, however, proved to be an addition to, rather than an alternative for, street vending. Street vending persists despite a paucity of permits, making the majority of vendors unlicensed and subject to fines and confiscation. Vendors have to purchase permits—which cost $400 from the city—on the black market for around $20,000. Yet despite the obstacles, vending persists because it serves as one of the few footholds that poor immigrants can gain in the economy and also fills a gap in traditional brick-and-mortar retail. 

Although there are more than 20,000 street vendors in New York City—selling hot dogs, flowers, books, art, and much, much more—and very few have official permits. Vending permits have been capped at 853 citywide since the 1980s, leaving the vast majority of vendors subject to $1,000 tickets. These are small-business people struggling to make ends meet; most are immigrants and people of color. Street vending has been a frequent target of “quality of life” crackdowns by mayoral administrations. In recent years, vendors have been victims of New York’s aggressive policies, being denied access to vending licenses and harassed by police. Repeated attempts by the legislature to increase the number of vending permits have failed.

But the resilience of these vendors, who keep going despite the risks and harassment, demonstrates the need they fulfill in the city’s economy.

This is the issue that Intro 47-B seeks to address. Under the law passed by the City Council in July, unlicensed New York City vendors would no longer face misdemeanor charges and jail time for selling food or goods on the streets. The council recognizes the importance of street vending to the culture and economy of immigrant communities. Intro 47-B is about removing these people from the criminal justice system and the excessive history of criminal misdemeanors that can prevent them from housing, economic, and educational opportunities. However, it would keep in place some enforcement tools like violations, fines, and civil summonses.

The mayor clearly sees street vending as another target for his newfound alliance with ICE and federal anti-immigration policies.

But if we take a deeper look at the role of street vending in the economy and culture of New York City, we can begin to appreciate the value that’s often not apparent to the casual observer. New York is often celebrated as a multicultural hub, shaped by successive waves of immigration and progressive sanctuary policies. Over time, neighborhoods such as Chinatown, Little Italy, Harlem, and Jackson Heights have evolved into vibrant ethnic enclaves, each with a distinct identity and sense of place. For many immigrant communities, one of the most accessible pathways into the city’s formal economy has been through street vending. These small-scale businesses have played a crucial role in sustaining the rich cultural fabric New Yorkers take pride in today. Yet this contribution is frequently overlooked, even suppressed.

Far from being a nuisance or an informal fringe activity, street vending is deeply woven into the social and cultural fabric of our city. As a city defined by its sidewalks, where daily life unfolds in public view with various public actors, New York has long been shaped by the energy of its streets. Vendors have played a key role in this urban rhythm, offering delicious and innovative foods, goods, and a sense of familiarity to passersby. 

While many blame street vendors for causing congestion on the sidewalks, people do not take into account other public space actors and features. Congestion is an objective reality that is caused by the conflicting users of public space: cars, trucks, and buses, bikes and scooters, vending carts, city infrastructure, and of course pedestrians. There’s no single public space actor to blame. But often, New York City’s mayoral administrations will punch down on street vendors because it’s easier to show they’re working on issues, if not the key ones, just to save face.

Ironically, much of the outrage against street vendors seems to disappear right around lunchtime—when, suddenly, everyone’s a fan of quick, cheap, and delicious sidewalk shawarma or other fare, especially in central business districts. People forget that there is a consumer demand for street vendors, especially from low-income demographics and other immigrant populations, speaking to their importance for reasons of equity. If you’re a fan of the halal cart’s chicken over rice today, it’s because there was a demand for on-the-go nutritious meals by working-class taxi drivers in the 1980s, who were also mainly immigrants and people of color in need of quick, affordable, nutritious, portable meals. These relationships between immigrant populations continue to withstand and sustain each other today despite increasing pressures from above, and they’re a key part of New York City’s culture.

Street vendors in Midtown Manhattan operate on a micro-scale, scattered and overshadowed by towering, placeless developments that dominate the area. While street vendors may seem insignificant from a distance, their presence at sidewalk level—especially outside vacant retail spaces—adds life and utility to underused public edges.

In contrast, multiethnic enclaves like Jackson Heights offer a more seamless relationship between vendors and the built environment. Along 37th Avenue and 74th Street, human-scaled, mixed-use buildings enhance vendor visibility and interaction. Here, street vendors enrich both the street-level experience and neighborhood identity, contributing to a vibrant, inclusive public realm. Street vendors also tend to set up near banks or large chain stores, most likely to avoid direct competition with small storefront businesses.

With street vendor businesses running slow in harsh weather, most street vendors are also found working overnight to make ends meet. Therefore, street vendors support the street by providing safety through the “eyes on the street.”

It’s also important to put the fiscal benefits of street vendors to New York City’s economy in perspective and address misconceptions regarding what it means to lift the caps on street vending licenses. The prevailing notion that lifting the caps will enable more street vendors on the streets is false. It will simply enable existing street vendors to operate legally and without fear of constant harassment. In fact, if all 20,000+ people on the waiting list received licenses, the city could earn about $59 million in revenue, according to a 2024 Independent Budget Office report. This may not have a major impact on the local economy, but it would not put New York City in a budget deficit. Instead, it would have a positive impact on street vendors’ experience in public space and improve their business conditions. In reality, the city spends more on cracking down on street vendors than it earns from the limited number who are officially licensed, a net loss. Lifting the cap on permits could increase revenue and help offset the costs of better and more effective enforcement as well. 

Additionally, on a broader scale, with the arguments made against street vendors for being undocumented, if 10% of undocumented immigrants are deported, it would cost the city $381 million, according to the Immigration Research Initiative. 

Street vendors are not only a vital part of New York City’s cultural identity and economic development, they’re an essential part of public life, serving New Yorkers day and night with affordable food and goods and human connection. Rather than restricting them under the pretext of sidewalk congestion and hygiene, the city should explore creative solutions, such as working with the Department of Transportation to pilot street vendor access on underutilized space. 

With only 853 licenses for the whole city, it might make more sense to issue permits per borough in order to create a more equitable distribution of vendors. Street vendors deserve thoughtful policy, not bottlenecks. Intro 47-B is a step in the right direction. The mayor should sign it into law, or the council should override the veto.

Featured image via Wikimedia Commons.