What will the National Guard even do here?
That thought followed me, like some sort of nagging specter, as I meandered through the Castro yesterday afternoon. This is my neighborhood, the only place I’ve lived since moving to San Francisco in 2020. Standing under a cloudless sky, with the sun on my face and the noise of construction reverberating in the air, it felt like all was normal.
What will the National Guard even do here?
President Donald Trump’s declaration of San Francisco as the next target for military deployment was entirely predictable, but that doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking for everyone, from those at risk of senseless deportation to activists trying to prevent it.
The Supreme Court is now deliberating whether Trump has the authority to deploy the National Guard in states like Illinois, Tennessee, Oregon, and California. A federal judge blocked the military’s foray into Chicago, but a different judge green-lit the National Guard’s push into Portland. It’s chaos incarnate, but in the Castro, it was all calm.
What will the National Guard even do here?
I’m not the only one wondering this. Martha Asten was busy when I ran into her at the home goods shop Cliff’s Variety, a longtime anchor of Castro Street: “It’s senior day, 15 percent off,” Asten said with a smile, and right on cue, a pair of elderly women shuffled through the entrance.
As the chief financial officer of the business, Asten has been in the neighborhood for ages. The Castro is still bouncing back from pandemic doldrums, she told me. Some longstanding problems, like petty theft, homelessness, and drug use, persist on the block. None of those problems can be solved by soldiers standing around with rifles, Asten said.
“What are they going to do? Nothing,” she said. “ICE hasn’t even been in this neighborhood, to my knowledge. It’s absurd. Trumpism at its finest.”
What if the National Guard comes marching down Market Street? “If they come down here, we’ll deal with it. Calmly,” Asten said with a shrug and a nod.
Up the street, I poked my head into Leadbetter’s Bake Shop, where owner Jamieson Leadbetter was kneading a giant ball of dough for English muffins. A proud Navy veteran, Leadbetter pursed his lips in disapproval when I brought up the threat of military mobilization.
“As a San Franciscan, I’m watching my city only improve. The city is on the rise. It just doesn’t add up,” he said. “Why would we need an intervention?”
Leadbetter let out a short sigh when I mentioned images of National Guard members looking bored while standing around in Portland.
“Not even bored, but misused, maybe? This is not why you join the National Guard. This is not protecting the homeland. They’re following orders because that’s what you sign up to do,” he said. “I have a hard time, based on my experience in the military, believing that they want to do this.”
What will the National Guard even do here?
Lonnie (not his real name), who works at my local corner store and asked to remain anonymous for his safety, told me that paranoia remains an undercurrent for many Nepali immigrants in the city, like him. He moved to San Francisco two years ago and works multiple gigs so that he can send money back home.
“The city is great. Everything is good here. But I am scared,” Lonnie told me.
He wasn’t even sure whether ICE was operating in San Francisco. I explained that the action has been concentrated in downtown, with a few incidents in the Mission. The idea of bringing the National Guard to town, however, visibly confused Lonnie. The feds seem uninterested in hunting down high-profile bad guys, instead nabbing “easy targets” like tax-paying immigrants, he mused.
“There’s no point, huh?” Lonnie asked with a grimace.
Then he complained to me about a neighbor who got angry because Lonnie wouldn’t let him dump a bunch of leaves in the store’s trash can. Such are the everyday problems of life on the block.
So, what will the National Guard even do here?
