The Politics-to-Piñata Pipeline

HORTENCIA BRICEÑO SPRAYED AN ICE AGENT in the face with aerosolized glue. As a thick, white trail of adhesive dripped down along his chin, she took a piece of black material and clapped it over his mouth. Then she stepped back, surveying her work with satisfaction: The masked federal enforcer was ready to be beaten to smithereens with a stick.  

Briceño is not a militant insurgent. She is a piñata maker at Kennia’s Party Supply, which occupies a warehouse on Olympic Boulevard in downtown L.A. on a three-block corridor known as the Piñata District. This is where party hosts can purchase everything from bulk plates to novelty mugs shaped like erect penises. But a main attraction is the collection of piñatas of popular characters and cultural figures — and endless candy to fill them.

“For me, it’s an art,” Briceño said as she continued to snip tissue paper around the ICE agent’s face. “I only see it as art. I don’t see whether it’s a political figure or not.” 

Many of the piñatas on sale in the district depict mainstream stars of pop culture: Moana. Lionel Messi. The HUNTR/X girls from KPop Demon Hunters. But despite Briceño’s disavowal of politics, her store and others are also populated with figures that speak to the current political moment. 

There are many ways to catch the vibes of a particular moment in a particular place. In Los Angeles, piñata makers use cardboard, staples, tissue paper and glue to reveal how people are reacting to local and national politics. Their temporary works of art become a key indicator of what matters to us – what we fear, what we love, and importantly, what we loathe so much we want to smash it to bits. It all hangs from the ceilings of piñata stores, waiting to be busted open to the shrill cackles of both kids and adults. 

The speed with which news stories are repurposed on the piñata production line exemplifies both the Latino hustle spirit and the degree to which some headlines hit the community particularly hard. And in the year since a massive federal immigration operation struck terror in households across Southern California, one figure above all others has been on order. 

“Those are all ICE agents,” said Karla Fuentes, an employee at Navarro’s Party Supply, which operates out of another massive warehouse on Olympic Boulevard. She pointed up to the ceiling, where a dozen figures were at different stages of construction. Within a week after immigration officers began conducting raids across L.A., Fuentes said, the store got its first order for an ICE agent. Many others quickly followed.  

In an adjoining room, more soon-to-be ICE agents were further along in the assembly process, boasting skin-toned tissue and little hats painted black. None had faces just yet, but they would in about a day, along with vests, masks, and sunglasses.

It takes the federal government 42 days to train an ICE agent. (That number will rise to 71 days in July after advocates, Democratic lawmakers, and former ICE officials publicly voiced concerns over the “deficient, defective, and broken” training process.) The piñata makers of Los Angeles can turn one around in less than a week. Strips of cardboard are cut to shape a figure; layer upon layer of newspaper is molded onto the shape to create a build; colorful tissue paper is slashed into shapes and shards that become an outfit and hair and Mod Podged on to bring the figure to life; then the face and other identifying elements —  a crooked smile, a microphone, a soccer ball —  are added until the piñata is ready.

Political humor has long been a form of resistance and social commentary in Mexico. A piñata allows us to satirize, ridicule, and then beat the brakes off an effigy, a nonviolently violent act against an oppressive force. 

We saw this during the pandemic, when makers sold pronged COVID-19 virus piñatas. The Donald Trump piñata never goes out of style. More than 10 years after his first presidential run, the president remains a figure many would relish hitting with a stick.

Celeste Marcelino, an employee at Party Mex, recalled the first time someone asked for an ICE piñata; she thought they meant actual ice. That was soon after immigration raids scrambled the city.  Once a few more customers requested them, showing example images from TikTok and Google, Party Mex began to manufacture in bulk. She and other piñata makers were able to respond swiftly because they could adapt forms they had used to build Buzz Lightyear and Spider-Man piñatas in the past.

Other political figures have been requested as well, but Marcelino said she can’t recall the names because she often builds them off photos customers provide. “For us, the political nature of the piñata is not that important,” she said. “It’s more to make the sale.”

Kennia Lugo of Kennia’s Party Supply said that making political piñatas initially made her nervous. “At first, I didn’t want to make them out of fear of retaliation from the person saying why are you making a piñata out of me,” she explained. So she’d take a groom piñata and stick a red tie on it — making it look a bit like Donald Trump, but not naming any names. She didn’t feel the need to do that with ICE piñatas since they’re not based on one specific person. 

“We’re not watching the news and thinking oh let’s make that. We don’t need to look out to see what to make, because the clients come here and tell us.” And when something major is happening in culture or politics, and the clients begin requesting piñatas, “we’re right there” she said, snapping her fingers.

But not all piñata makers wait for the customers. Sometimes the news compels a piñata maker to reach for the cardboard.

A few weeks back, at The Offbeat in Highland Park, partiers took turns motorboating a busty piñata of Bryon Noem, husband of former chief of Homeland Security Kristi Noem, whose photos sporting a massive breast form in an apparent “bimbofication” kink leaked in March. Andrea Arias, a 35-year-old DJ and piñata maker, was spinning records that night, offering free shots to anyone who would blow raspberries on the piñata’s chest.

Arias, who makes custom piñatas out of her home in Chinatown, got the idea from her sister, who sent her one of Noem’s leaked photos.

“There’s the Latino instinct,” said Saavedra. “You want to beat the crap out of something, so you take it out on a piñata.”

Alex Zaragoza is a culture journalist, TV writer and producer based in Los Angeles.