Immigration enforcement casts shadow over LA Korean Festival

The annual Los Angeles Korean Festival, one of the largest cultural and business events in the Korean-American community, is approaching its 52nd year. Scheduled for October 16–19 at Seoul International Park in Koreatown, the festival traditionally showcases the vibrancy of Korean culture through music, food, and—critically for small businesses—the Agricultural and Fisheries Expo, where regional Korean companies test the U.S. market with specialty goods.

But this year, the celebration carries an unusual cloud of anxiety. The Trump administration’s sweeping immigration enforcement campaign, already sending shockwaves through Korean communities nationwide, is raising doubts about whether the festival can proceed smoothly. The arrests earlier this month of 317 Korean nationals at the Hyundai–LG battery plant construction site in Georgia underscored a reality that many had ignored: routine practices once tolerated by immigration authorities are now under harsh scrutiny.

The Georgia raid has become a cautionary tale. For years, Korean companies have relied on the Electronic System for Travel Authorization (ESTA) and short-term business (B-1) visas to send employees abroad for sales, trade shows, and promotional events. At the Hyundai–LG plant, federal authorities determined that such workers had crossed a line—from attending meetings or performing site inspections, which B-1 and ESTA technically allow, to engaging in labor and commercial activity, which those visas prohibit. The result was mass detentions, ankle chains, and repatriation proceedings that shocked both South Korea and its diaspora.

The parallels to the LA Korean Festival are hard to miss. The Agricultural and Fisheries Expo, which accounts for nearly half the festival’s footprint, depends heavily on small and medium-sized businesses from Korean provinces. According to organizers, more than 100 Korean companies have registered for booths this year, and as many as 300 participants, including local government representatives, are expected to travel to Los Angeles.

Customarily, many of them entered on ESTA or B-1 visas, then staffed their booths, handled cash transactions, and directly sold goods to consumers.
What once seemed harmless now appears to be a red flag. Immigration lawyers warn that selling products—even local specialties like ginseng, seaweed, or rice snacks—constitutes unauthorized employment. If agents from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) were to visit the festival, participants without proper work visas could face detention and even deportation hearings.

The fear is palpable within Korean business circles. At a recent economic forum hosted by the World Federation of Overseas Korean Traders Associations (OKTA) in Los Angeles, the conversation shifted quickly from investment opportunities to festival anxieties. “If ICE shows up at the festival, I don’t know what will happen,” said one organizer. “Most of the officials from Korea come on ESTA, but we now know that isn’t valid for this kind of activity.”

Local representatives of Korean provinces echoed the concern. Some offices have already reported back to their headquarters in Seoul, urging caution and exploring alternatives. Suggestions include reducing the number of Korean staff flying in, hiring local contractors with legal work authorization to handle sales, and limiting Korean participants to promotional and networking roles.

Others argue that the festival could turn the crisis into an opportunity. By partnering with American distributors, or by marketing Korean goods to non-Korean consumers in Los Angeles, the event might expand beyond its ethnic enclave and connect directly with the mainstream economy. “If we can use this as a chance to build bridges with the broader market, the festival can become stronger,” one OKTA member noted.

Immigration attorneys are blunt: the old “don’t get caught” mentality is no longer viable. “Visa Waiver and B-1 visas permit tourism, exploratory visits, and meetings—but not sales or labor,” said attorney Jonathan Park. “After Georgia, enforcement is no longer theoretical. If someone is caught selling goods, they could be detained and placed in removal proceedings.”
The Korean Festival Foundation, which oversees the four-day event, is trying to reassure participants while drawing a careful boundary. Officials emphasize that visa responsibility rests with the individual vendors and performers, not the organizers. Still, the foundation acknowledges that it has discussed contingency plans, including connecting Korean companies with local staff who can legally conduct sales.

In private, some organizers admit to feeling squeezed. On one hand, the festival must preserve its traditional identity as a showcase for Korean specialties, which depends on direct participation from Korean companies. On the other hand, the risks of federal enforcement are higher than ever. A single raid could not only disrupt the festival but damage the reputation of the Korean-American community at large.

The Korean Festival is more than a party—it is a cultural anchor and an economic lifeline. For many Korean farmers and small manufacturers, it provides a rare entry point into the U.S. market. For Los Angeles, it represents a celebration of multicultural life, attracting tens of thousands of visitors annually. The stakes, therefore, go beyond visas and paperwork.
Yet ignoring the legal reality is no longer an option. The Georgia arrests proved that immigration authorities are willing to act, even against major corporations. For a community event, the margin for error is even smaller. Organizers, business associations, and consular officials must work together to ensure compliance: advising participants on the proper visas, encouraging the use of local contractors, and preparing for possible inspections.

By Mooyoung Lee [lee.mooyoung@koreadaily.com]