Champion of Local Business Makes Citizenship Official

Pictured: Venouziou, right, and her friends Monica and Brian Guerrero celebrated her new citizenship outside the Citizenship and Immigration Services field office in Tampa.

For the last forty years, Ester Venouziou has felt as American as any of her friends and neighbors. But now, this renowned small business advocate has taken her oath and made it official. On August 5, 2025, alongside one hundred other applicants in the Citizenship and Immigration Services field office in Tampa, she became an U.S. citizen.

As the founder of LocalShops1 and St. Pete’s legendary Shopapalooza festival, Venouziou’s interest in small business began with her parents, two Greek immigrants who owned a fabric and linen business in Manaus, Brazil. They not only provided a model of hardworking entrepreneurship but also shopped locally themselves: Venouziou recalls the weekly ritual of visiting city markets for meat, fruits and vegetables, clothes, and many of the family’s other needs. 

When her parents decided to move the family to Manalapan Township, New Jersey (just down the road from Bruce Springsteen’s hometown of Long Branch), it was not an easy transition. For a start, after a childhood spent in the tropics, she found the weather too cold. “That was the first time in my life that I had ever seen snow!”

But at 12 years old, Venouziou was also struggling with a new culture, a new language, and – toughest of all – an entirely new school. When she developed the habit of shying away from the crowded lunchroom, two concerned schoolmates quizzed her: Was she on a diet? With her limited English, Venouziou thought they had asked if she was dying.

Misunderstandings aside, these young women, alongside an empathetic teacher, became the anchors that helped her grow into her new surroundings. By the time high school rolled around, she was finally starting to feel at home. 

In college at Boston University, Venouziou’s interest in becoming a writer blossomed. Her degree in journalism eventually took her to Fort Lauderdale, where she loved patronizing the eclectic mix of local shops – but also mourned as they slowly give way to corporate chains. When she landed a job as a copyeditor for the St. Petersburg Times in 2003, she discovered the same local charm in the Sunshine City’s small business scene and began a campaign to preserve it. Her Breaking the Chains Facebook page, which featured Bay area shops, restaurants, artists, and nonprofits, soon evolved into a searchable website. LocalShops1 – which now provides advocacy, support, and education for locally owned independent businesses, as well as organizing the 365-vendor Shopapalooza event each November – was born. 

“My journalism background definitely helped in getting media attention, knowing how to pitch stories and fold them into marketing,” Venouziou recounts. “It’s been a lot of juggling and multitasking. I’ve learned to love spreadsheets!”

Life got busy, and with her focus directed toward building her business and building her community, Venouziou never got around to applying for U.S. citizenship. Her parents had eventually done so, but because she was over 18 when they did, she missed the opportunity to naturalize with them. For a long time, she reflects, it didn’t seem to matter. “I always felt the same as everyone else.” 

But in recent years, pressures have changed. Anti-immigrant sentiment, paired with the deportation of some lawful permanent residents, left her feeling less certain, less safe. So, in her 42nd year of U.S. residency, she applied to become a citizen. 

“It’s not a complicated process,” she says, “but it is a very long one.” 

First, applicants are fingerprinted. Then, usually months later, they are called in for an interview (and, in some cases, a written exam) that tests their knowledge of U.S. history, geography, and political processes. (Venouziou shared with me the pocket study guide that Citizenship and Immigration Services supplied; can you name the exact number of amendments to the U.S. Constitution?) If all goes well, aspiring citizens are called in to give their oaths of loyalty. Start to finish, these proceedings took Venouziou about 14 months.

When the big day came, she brought a cadre of supporters: her friend Monica Guerrero, who naturalized in 2018, and Monica’s husband, Brian. Chairs for the soon-to-be citizens were laid out with miniature American flags and brochures explaining new citizen tasks such as voter registration. During the 29-minute ceremony, she says, the new citizens took their oaths, said a pledge, and were then shown a lengthy welcome video advising them that they could now become contributing members of society. “That part felt a bit like I was in school with a substitute teacher!” Venouziou laughs.

Still, she says, she felt a kinship with the others who shared this experience. “We were all there for a common cause.” 

With her old green cards turned in, her voter registration complete, and her U.S. passport application submitted, Venouziou is well on her way to enjoying the full benefits of her new citizenship. As I listened to her extol the benefits of supporting local businesses – keeping dollars in the local economy, nourishing creativity and preserving the distinctive character of a city, providing a safety net of care and support when emergencies strike  – I sensed that Venouziou knows a lot more about being a citizen than any USCIS exam can assess, more about contributing to our society than any video can teach. When it comes to the long, slow, but vitally important work of building strong, vibrant communities, I think we could all learn something from her.