ICE Raids and Protests Empty Out Santee Alley: Dispatch From L.A.
In the shadow of immigration crackdowns and federal troops on the ground, shopkeepers and customers are scared away, leaving businesses devastated.
On any other Saturday, Santee Alley in downtown Los Angeles's Fashion District would be packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people buying cut-rate electronics and quinceañera dresses and $100 three-piece suits and fake Labubu dolls. The goods are cheap, pushcart vendors sell bottled water to keep shoppers cool, and the open-air corridor stays open 365 days a year.
But June 14 was not any other Saturday. It was the day of the No Kings anti-Trump protests a mile away in downtown L.A. By 4 p.m., some businesses on nearby Broadway had boarded up their stores, not wanting a repeat of the vandalism that happened the previous Saturday night, after the protests against Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids broke up and several hundred people went on a rampage.
Shopkeepers on Santee Alley were worried about the opposite of looters.
"Today is really dead," said Sandra, the only employee at a clothing store. Business, she estimated, was off by 95 percent. "On a regular day, we sell $3,000," she said. The day's take so far: $100.
It was the same at every store: few to no customers. A private security guard stationed at the mouth of the alley said he hadn't seen the market this dead since the pandemic, when it was his job to keep people out. A counterman at the Alley Dog was already cleaning off the grill. Usually by this time, they would have sold 300 hot dogs. This day, they had sold one.
A week earlier, immigration agents had raided a nearby apparel warehouse, taking more than a dozen allegedly undocumented employees into custody. While no one in Santee Alley referenced that raid by name, it was clear the fear of apprehension was keeping both shop owners and customers away.
"He did not open today," said Mike, a native of Punjab, India, of a neighbor whose roll-down door was locked. Mike's own shop, which sells backpacks and other items, had seen zero customers that day. "We know they are scared due to the policy of the government," he said. "They are not coming outside. Nothing. If you are scared, you are not coming out to spend money."
Mike thought the raids were illegal. "There is no law, no humanity, nothing," he said. "But the ICE and the other department is coming to you; they don't care. They have your name, warrant or no. They knock on the door. They break the door. Even if you tell him, okay, I have the green card. They say, 'we don't care. You have to come with us. We'll figure it out.' They make a handcuff. They will take you to the detention center. After that, they will make investigation. No, they don't care. They don't care."
The potential raids and arrests were not something other retailers along Santee Alley felt comfortable talking about. "My English is not good," said a young woman from Guatemala, standing alongside the corseted mannequins in front of Bedtime Lingerie. Also not amenable were three dudes standing in the middle of the trafficless street, who knotted up a Hefty bag full of counterfeit luxury handbags and stonewalled even before being asked a question. Then the one on the electric bike, the one with some seriously detailed face tattoos, decided otherwise.
"I'll talk to you," said Christian.
"As soon as ICE hit on Friday [June 6], there were still people here; the next day, it started dying out," he said. "Obviously people are hiding. They are going to protect their families."
Christian himself was protecting his family. The owner of a tuxedo store whose business "had been killed 100 percent," he lives in Inglewood and does not let his wife and kids—ages 6 and 9—come to Santee Alley right now. He was disillusioned by Trump's decision to send in federal forces, which he felt personally betrayed by.
"I can't vote—for whatever reason—but my wife can, and I told her to vote for Trump," he said. "That makes me feel stupid now. All the stuff about him getting shot made him look like he's strong. Like, somebody that's going to protect the United States. And people talking shit about Biden and saying how he can't even freaking know where to walk out of the stage; that they have to guide him, he's so old. But I would prefer that old man respectfully than this guy."
Christian said he'd heard Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth's statement that federal troops were going to stay in Los Angeles for 60 days ("I've been looking at YouTube videos all the time about everything"). While it might go without saying that Santee Alley could not thrive, or perhaps survive, under the threat of possible raids for that long, Christian saw an additional citywide problem.
"Look, at least Gov. Newsom got his rights back," he said. "But now that the Guard's here because of Trump, if the protests do get out of hand again, the citizens or anybody, immigrants or whatever, they're going to be like, 'That's why it was good that Trump had authority to send them in if it gets crazy.' I'm telling people, keep it calm. Don't do crazy shit. If you're going to go protest, go protest. Prove a point for them to see a person with brown skin, especially tattooed. But hey, don't burn the American flag."
Christian, who is of Mexican descent but was born in the U.S., spoke of what he saw immigrants in Los Angeles receiving that they could not get in Mexico: EBT—the food assistance program—and a buffer between themselves and "the cartels killing people, chopping off heads or whatever. Pretty sure not everywhere is like that, but it's scary to just even see it." And while he understood protesters flying the Mexican flag, he thought they should have some pride in the American flag, too.
"We live here," he said. "Why are you going to burn something that gave us so much and over there [in Mexico] so little? I don't think it's right even to say, 'Fuck Trump.' It's a sign of ignorance to me. Let the youngsters or the people that don't give a fuck [protest]. I'd rather be in my store selling tuxedos. I got a family to take care of. I'm 30 years old. But like I said, I don't think it's right to burn stuff and break shit."
It was getting close to 5 p.m., and in a few minutes the Los Angeles Police Department would disperse what protesters were left in the streets. As Christian and his crew rolled out, three police helicopters whomped overhead; the sound of sirens was like a symphony. Meanwhile, Mike from Punjab, who'd moved his shop from another location to Santee Alley only two weeks earlier, stayed at his post. He had "been in this country a long time," he said, and police presence or not, ICE raids or not, he would not be intimidated.
"No, no, no," he said. "I'm staying right here."
