One year after Minneapolis amended its sidewalk‑cart ordinance, street‑vendor advocates say the promised relief has not fully materialized. The changes, which lowered the cost of a vending license from $719 to $63, allowed vendors to operate at three locations instead of one, and extended permitted hours, were intended to help low‑income families, many of whom are illegal immigrants, earn a living.
Real‑world impact for vendors
Jeanneth, a mother of three who fled Ecuador, stopped working in house cleaning after her husband was detained during Operation Metro Surge. With no legal work authorization, she turned to selling Ecuadorian soups near Powderhorn Park. “My only option for feeding my children, buying medicine and doing what I need to do is to work as I am working now,” she told a translator.
Despite the new rules, Jeanneth now faces a $200 citation for operating without a license. “I’m trying to figure out what I can do every day since I’m just really not able to pay that money,” she said.
What the city changed
Last year the Minneapolis City Council voted to:
- Reduce the annual street‑cart license fee from $719 to $63.
- Allow each license to cover three selling locations, up from one.
- Shorten the required distance from a Minneapolis Park Board property from 500 feet to 200 feet, while still prohibiting sales in neighborhood parks.
- Extend vending hours from 7 a.m.–10 p.m. to 6 a.m.–midnight, except within 300 feet of a residence.
- Create a “Late‑Night Operation Zone” for extended hours in a designated area (location still pending).
- Offer free food‑safety classes in 2025; the city hopes to contract for classes again next year.
City spokesperson Jess Olstad said the city is working to secure a contract for next‑year classes and is exploring partnerships for a commissary kitchen, though no space has been identified yet.
Continuing obstacles
Vendors and advocates point to several persistent barriers:
- Licensing knowledge: Many vendors are unaware they must obtain liability insurance and register a business tax ID before receiving a license. Park Board commissioner Kedar Deshpande noted that without these steps, the lowered fees mean little.
- Language gaps: Community member Selena Salfen observed that licensing staff often hand out paperwork without providing Spanish translations, leaving non‑English speakers confused.
- Equipment costs: A compliant food cart can cost several hundred dollars, a sum many families cannot afford. Jeanneth said she would like a cart but cannot afford one.
- Enforcement practices: Vendors report that city inspectors sometimes discard food and treat vendors rudely. Jeanneth said inspectors told her they “don’t want to see us there.” Fines start at about $200 and can rise to $2,000 for repeat violations; as of Nov. 6, the city has issued 50 citations this year.
Council Member Jason Chavez warned that criminalizing vendors could give the federal government a pretext to target illegal immigrant families. “It’s an excuse … to go after ‘the worst of the worst,’ which is literally moms and dads trying to feed people,” he said.
City’s fiscal constraints
The city says it cannot fund carts directly because doing so would violate the public‑purpose rule, which requires tax dollars to benefit the broader community rather than a single individual or business. Chavez’s office is looking into alternative funding avenues, but no concrete plan has been announced.
Looking ahead
As winter approaches, fewer vendors are on the streets, and community advocates hope spring will bring more solutions. Salfen remains optimistic: “I’m not giving up on it, we’re not giving up, so we’ll see what happens.” The city’s next steps—finalizing the Late‑Night Operation Zone, securing food‑safety class contracts, and improving outreach—will determine whether the 2025 reforms truly lift the barriers for the city’s most vulnerable workers.
Original reporting: Sahan Journal — read the source article.
