The small business perspective on the gatekeeping, intimidation, and broken politics behind the Hayes Street road block.
When speaking up comes with consequences, staying quiet becomes a form of protection. That’s the reality for many small business owners in Hayes Valley who have been navigating the fallout of the prolonged Hayes Street closure.
In Part 1, we explored the operational disruption, economic fallout, and emotional exhaustion caused by a closure that has destabilized the business corridor. But beyond what’s visible is an even quieter cost: the culture of fear that keeps people from speaking at all.
A Culture of Caution
At first glance, it may seem like most businesses support the closure. But beneath that surface is a carefully cultivated silence. Privately, many business owners express serious concerns. But publicly, they say nothing not because they’re indifferent, but because they’ve learned that speaking up comes at a cost. Some have been met with bureaucratic stonewalling. Others have faced backlash from political allies of the permit holder. In a high rent district like Hayes Valley, where margins are tight and reputations matter, even a perceived act of dissent can carry consequences. The risk of retaliation is real and silence becomes a rational form of self-defense.
The Emotional Toll of Being Honest
Merchants who have tried to raise concerns say the experience is isolating and demoralizing. They’re not met with dialogue. They’re met with defensiveness, dismissal, or in some cases, personal attacks.
One merchant described the experience as “exhausting and alienating,” adding:
“When you’re just trying to keep your doors open, it’s painful to watch the street outside turn into a playground for people who don’t even shop here.”
Another shared:
“I’m not anti-community. I’m just trying to survive. But when I speak up, it’s like I’m accused of being against the neighborhood itself.”
Even business owners who once supported or contributed to the closure’s early stages have been sidelined after raising concerns. Dissent, no matter how measured, is treated as a threat.
The Myth of Inclusion
City Hall and the permit holder continue to push the narrative that the closure enjoys “broad support.” But that narrative has been manufactured through curated outreach, selective listening, and amplification of voices that already align with the preferred outcome.
In a recent interview with The Standard, Hayes Valley Neighborhood Association (HVNA) President David Robinson who oversees the permit claimed:
“The weekend closures have not negatively affected businesses and residents.”
That statement isn’t just dismissive—it’s demonstrably false.
Last fall, during the renewal of the temporary permit for the closure, Robinson received a direct email from a longtime small business operator. In it, she detailed the devastating impact of the closure on her operations: declining revenue, delivery disruptions, and the emotional toll of trying to survive in an increasingly hostile environment. She told him plainly, the closure was forcing her to shut her doors.
Robinson never responded. No follow-up. No acknowledgment. Nothing.
Following that article and a news cycle dominated by Supervisor Mahmood’s announcement last Friday proposing to designate Hayes Valley as an Entertainment Zone, Robinson took to social media and added:
Here’s the truth:
We’ve made it clear why we don’t participate in press setups that erase context and amplify a curated narrative. Our trust in San Francisco media has eroded—not from ideology, but from experience. Too often, these stories elevate the same insiders who helped create this crisis, while ignoring the residents, merchants, and neighbors living with its consequences. We’re not interested in contributing to a closed-loop PR machine that performs inclusion while reinforcing exclusion.
What’s surprising isn’t the silence. It’s that Robinson who doesn’t run a business on Hayes Street feels entitled to speak over the many who do. Business owners have reached out to him directly off the record, in good faith, and at great emotional cost. He ignored them.
This same pattern plays out behind the scenes. In a message shared internally, an HVNA leader known for aggressive tactics, operating a store on a side street, and with far less tenure in the neighborhood than those being excluded questioned why one of Hayes Valley’s longest standing small businesses had even been included in a City Hall email thread. This was his response after the business offered support for a neighborhood initiative:
“Why all of a sudden they (and others) are included in these emails when [business] has never supported any neighborhood initiatives.”
“Perhaps… you can find a path to having them be a supporter of our entire business community rather than an obstructionist.”
That’s not community-building. That’s message control. Whether it’s through public spin, media posturing, or private gatekeeping, the goal is the same: curate who counts, and cast doubt on anyone who doesn’t fall in line.
The Chilling Effect
What the public doesn’t see is the emotional labor behind the scenes: writing letters, attending hearings, documenting violations—all while managing payroll, staff, inventory, and the daily grind of survival. The street closure may appear minor to those who don’t rely on the corridor to make a living. But to the business owners who do, it’s one more destabilizing force in a city that already makes small business survival a daily battle.
The pressure isn’t just operational—it’s psychological. After being dismissed, sidelined, or attacked, many have stopped speaking publicly altogether. They’ve learned that participation doesn’t guarantee inclusion and that being honest can carry consequences. Each time concerns are met with silence, spin, or retaliation, more voices fall quiet. This isn’t just about policy it’s about power. And who’s allowed to speak without being discredited.
Silence as a Signal
The absence of visible opposition should not be mistaken for agreement. It’s a signal. A warning that the process has broken trust. That public feedback no longer feels safe or meaningful. That the rules have been rewritten in a way that favors narrative over nuance. Until that changes, many small businesses will continue to stay quiet not because they have nothing to say, but because they’ve been taught their voices don’t matter.
The question is no longer whether the street should reopen.
San Francisco’s public processes routinely ignore those who deserve the most consideration and the Hayes Street closure is a prime example.
A small group, aligned with City Hall, has been allowed to shape public space without accountability, while the voices of those most affected—small business owners, workers, and neighbors have been sidelined or erased.
That’s not inclusion. It’s exclusion by design.