This article explores the plight of undocumented migrant workers in California who are increasingly avoiding public spaces due to threats of deportation. The recent ICE raids have cast a shadow over their daily lives, leaving them uncertain and fearful of accessing essential services.
Fearing Deportation: Farm Workers in California Seek Refuge in the Shadows

Fearing Deportation: Farm Workers in California Seek Refuge in the Shadows
Farm workers in California's Oxnard hide in fields amid increasing ICE raids, fearing for their safety and livelihoods.
In the frail daylight of Oxnard, California, farm workers are seen kneeling low among sprawling rows of berry bushes, their figures nearly swallowing into the landscape. The fear is palpable; "Are you from ICE?" one woman, donning a hat and purple bandana, asks with anxiety lacing her voice. Once reassured of our intentions, she hesitates, then inquires whether we’ve spotted any ICE vans or patrol cars lurking about.
This woman, an undocumented immigrant hailing from Mexico, has dedicated the past two years to berry-picking in a city that proudly labels itself the “strawberry capital of the world.” Just the previous day, local activists reported that ICE agents had conducted raids at nine farms nearby, instigating panic as 35 individuals were captured without even warrants, snatched from the streets instead of the farms.
The current spike in ICE activity forms part of a broader initiative set forth by President Donald Trump aiming for the deportation of 3,000 undocumented immigrants daily; even though his campaign emphasized targeting serious offenders, the fallout has seen innocent workers caught in the crossfire. The tension boiled over in Los Angeles, where protests erupted against these tactics, leading to Trump deploying military forces to the city in response.
“We feel treated like criminals; we’ve merely come seeking a better life,” says the woman, who left her children behind two years ago to pursue work, harboring hopes of reuniting with them in the near future. "We no longer wander outside. Going to a store is a luxury we can hardly afford due to fear.”
Lucas Zucker, a community organizer from California's Central Coast, remarks on the unprecedented nature of such raids after a 15-year hiatus. “They bulldoze through immigrant neighborhoods like Oxnard, targeting anyone who fits their politically-motivated agenda.”
The plight of farm workers is critical, considering that over 40% of U.S. agricultural workers are undocumented, and in California, this percentage rises to more than 75%, as per a recent USDA report. With ICE ramping up raids across workplaces throughout California initiated this month, apprehensions intensify about a looming reduction in the nation’s food supply if these workers remain in hiding, unwilling to return for fear of arrest.
Trump acknowledged the agricultural sector's growing concern on Thursday, recognizing that many of these laborers, though undocumented, form the backbone of American farming. "Our farmers are struggling," he said, recognizing the years of commitment these workers have made to their fields, despite legal shortcomings.
On a dreary Tuesday in Oxnard, a chaotic scene unfolded in nearby fields as agents chased down a man under the cover of thick fog, a visual starkly emblematic of the danger that looms over this community. When The BBC arrived on the scene, signs of heightened scrutiny were evident: a Customs and Border Protection truck parked ominously outside a local organic company brought forth anxiety amongst the workers, who began choosing to stay home rather than face inspection.
The ramifications of increased raids stretch beyond farms; at the Casa Grande Cafe, run by Paula Pérez and her daughter Raquel across from a local vegetable packing facility, business has dwindled since farm workers have chosen to avoid potentially dangerous public encounters. “No one’s come in today,” says Paula, expressing fear for the future amidst an empty restaurant during what was normally a bustling lunchtime.
Raquel reflects, “The impact is more concerning now than during COVID, when our customers still came for meals. The collateral damage from these raids is staggering.” With reduced harvests, nearby businesses that rely on agricultural output have already reported closures, creating a chilling effect across the board.
Óscar, a migrant who sells strawberries from his truck, echoes these sentiments, sharing his own fears of deportation but his necessity to continue working to provide for his family. He too is seeking to normalize his immigration status amid fears of ICE presence at courthouses.
“I’m scared, but I can’t cease working. I need to support my family,” he asserts, grappling with the complexities of pursuing legal residency while facing the overwhelming threat of detention.
As farmers confront the uncertain horizon of labor shortages and economic ripple effects, the community remains at the mercy of a political climate increasingly hostile toward undocumented status. The quest for stability and security continues within the shadowy contours of the fields they labor in, raising questions about the future of agriculture and the lives interwoven within it.