Carolina Martínez came to the United States to work in the fields, hoping to earn enough to build a house in her native Mexico. The crossing was harrowing and the work was hard, to add to her burden, Martínez faced continual sexual harrassment with no recourse:
The work was hard. During planting and harvest seasons she might work 10 hours a day, six or seven days a week. But she had expected that. What she hadn’t expected was the near-constant sexual harassment on the job. The crew leader would, she says, “touch women in a sexual way… touch women on their asses.” When Martínez threatened to report him, he’d warn, “They’ll get rid of you. And if you do go to the boss, I’ll call Immigration.”
So she didn’t tell the boss. And she didn’t tell her husband either, afraid he’d be so angry that he’d pick a fight and they’d both get fired—or worse, deported. “Women have to tolerate this in silence,” she says. “Because if you talk to the owners and you lose your job, then what? Many times during lunch, I cried. I felt I was alone.” The harassment continued every day for seven months. [In These Times]
Farm workers aren’t the only female migrants who face harrassment on the job. Women who work in meat and poultry processing plants also report high rates of harassment, Joseph Sorrentino reports.
To would-be abusers, undocumented migrant women may seem like the perfect victims, targets they can mistreat without fear of repercussions. The women may not speak English, they are far from their support systems, and they are reluctant to go to the police because they are out of status.
Sorrentino’s reporting was supported by the Investigative Fund of the Nation Institute.