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Miami Herald
7 hours ago
- Politics
- Miami Herald
At longtime South Beach club, new immigration rules force dancers off stage
On a recent Wednesday night, dancers in glittering sequined costumes spun across a bartop stage, gyrating to bachata hits under the neon rainbow lighting at Mango's Tropical Cafe. But one of the iconic South Beach club's beloved performers was missing from the lineup. A staple of dance performances at Mango's for the last two years, Eduardo was recently let go. Mango's owner David Wallack said Eduardo, a Cuban national who arrived in 2023 through a humanitarian parole program, is just one of many valuable employees the nightclub has lost because their work authorization was revoked. 'First we lost three, then it turned into four — suddenly I realized we've lost 10 people in the last two weeks,' Wallack said. 'That's a big percentage of staff for any small business. And a specialized person like a great dancer, an artist, that's extremely hard to replace.' Eduardo, who agreed to speak to the Herald using only his middle name because he fears being deported, recently became one of thousands of Cubans in South Florida who have lost the right to work because of the tightening of immigration policies under President Donald Trump. In March, the Department of Homeland Security announced it would terminate the humanitarian parole program for Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans and Venezuelans. A lower court briefly blocked that change, but a U.S. Supreme Court ruling on May 30 overturned that order, clearing the way for DHS to cancel work permits tied to parole en masse. At the time, DHS called the ruling 'a victory for the American people,' adding that ending the parole programs, 'as well as the paroles of those who exploited it, will be a necessary return to common-sense policies, a return to public safety, and a return to America First.' Within days, immigrants in South Florida began receiving notices that their status had been terminated. 'We started getting phone calls from employees in tears saying they got letters from the Department of Homeland Security that their work authorization was revoked,' Mango's human resources director Natalie Corporan said. Employers using the federal E‑Verify system — including Mango's — began receiving automated alerts in June that workers' employment authorization had lapsed. There was no grace period. For businesses like Mango's, the change meant instant staffing losses. 'It's heart-wrenching to have to do this,' Corporan said of the calls she's had to make to employees like Eduardo, letting them know they can't continue working at Mango's. 'It's totally unfair what's happening.' One of those alerts flagged Eduardo. In 2023, he had boarded a flight from Havana to Miami, entering the United States legally through the humanitarian parole program President Joe Biden had created to stem the flow of unauthorized migrants at the southern border. Under the program, citizens of Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua and Venezuela could instead legally enter the United States for two years if they had a sponsor in the country, passed a background check and bought a plane ticket. Eager to continue the career he'd begun in Cuba as a professional dancer, Eduardo, then 26, soon landed a spot among Mango's roster of performers, a job where he instantly felt at home. 'I loved everything about Mango's,' Eduardo said. 'There were always new shows, different dances and great vibes — I made new friends, started new relationships and met colleagues, other dancers.' Over the years, Mango's has drawn tourists looking for a quintessential South Beach experience, becoming famous for its entertainment and, in particular, its Cuban performers like the local legend Miguel Cruz. Wallack said he's always wanted Mango's to be the 'Tropicana of the U.S.,' referring to the renowned Havana cabaret club. Eduardo imagined years of choreographing dances and performing at the classic South Beach club. But that dream fell apart in recent months. 'When Trump won the elections, I was worried about what might happen,' Eduardo said. 'I felt a bit of anxiety and fear, but I still hoped everything would be OK.' Eduardo applied for permanent residency in 2023 shortly after arriving and didn't expect any issues with staying or working in the U.S. His parents and siblings, whom he lives with in Miami, were already permanent residents, having immigrated years prior. Wallack said losing Eduardo was particularly painful. 'I loved watching him perform — such unique moves, so acrobatic — and I thought, 'What if I just let him keep working?'' But when Wallack spoke to Corporan about it, she told him the risk was too great. Corporan said her job has become consumed by running weekly employment status checks and scrambling to find replacements for performers, bartenders and servers. 'It's become the top of my list to focus on, ensuring we're in compliance,' Corporan said, adding there's also 'extensive time training and doing rehearsals — we can't just hire anyone to replace employees with special talents.' 'It's a death sentence to our industry,' she added. 'Other businesses are going to face these same struggles with shortages of employees. We're all going to be struggling to do what we can to survive this.' Mango's has recently lost roughly 10% of its staff because of work authorization issues, according to Wallack and Corporan. 'This is really happening right now in Miami Beach. There's a lot of hospitality businesses and many positions filled by immigrants,' Wallack said. 'It's choking us — people who did everything right and got the proper papers, now all of a sudden the government is letting their authorization expire, forcing them to drop out of the workforce,' Wallack added. City commissioners in Miami Beach recently approved an official statement condemning 'the growing use of violent and dehumanizing rhetoric directed at immigrants — rhetoric that threatens the safety, dignity and well-being of thousands of families who call Miami Beach home.' Wallack dialed into the meeting to voice his support for the resolution and share how his business was being affected by the ongoing immigration crackdown. 'These are excellent staff, wonderful contributors to the community who generate tax funds for the city who have lost their ability to work,' Wallack told the commission. 'That resolution was so human. It was empathy, compassion — I felt it was very important to acknowledge that,' he later told the Herald. Mango's has been around for 34 years, and Wallack said that many of his employees have become citizens while working at the nightclub. 'We have employees who've been here for 20 years, who've made their lives at Mango's and supported their families through it. We've given scholarships to some of their children. It's a shame what's happening now. These people are being ostracized,' Wallack said. 'Our staff leans heavily Latin American. They're people who've come here to find a better life — wonderful, hardworking, industrious, hopeful people that have families.' Many of those families may now be facing serious struggles because of the sudden loss of income and employment, he said. Eduardo still hopes to be reauthorized to work and said he'd return to Mango's in a heartbeat. But for now, there's few options — there's no job Eduardo can legally work in the U.S. 'My Mango's salary was totally important to my family's finances,' he said. 'I feel awful because now I can't work or help my family, and I can't do what I love most in the world — which is to dance.'
Miami Herald
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Miami Herald
Bad wifi and power outages can't stop Cuba's new social media influencers
Ignacio Valdés, better known as El Chicle, shocks people on the streets of Havana with his provocative pranks. Valdés, dressed as his alter ego El Chicle, sneaks up on unsuspecting citizens as they wait for the bus or walk around the city with his signature scream. Some laugh, others cringe — but there's always a reaction. At 22, Valdés has amassed more than 290,000 followers on his new Instagram profile. He now devotes himself fully to creating content for social media. Like him, many Cubans are joining this trend — using social media not just to survive the crisis, but to express themselves creatively. After years of restricted internet access, Cuba has seen a gradual digital opening. As a result, social media use is growing across the island, and a number of Cuban content creators are now making money promoting local businesses — including some based in Miami. There were about eight million active mobile lines in Cuba by 2025 — 95% of them with internet access, according to government sources. But these official figures are difficult to verify due to the country's state-run telecommunications monopoly. Facebook and Instagram are the most popular platforms, while YouTube and WhatsApp are also widely used, according to authorities. The rise of influencers hasn't gone unnoticed by the government. In 2021, months before the July 11 protests, the state-run media published a dossier analyzing topics like 'the impact of social media on communication, society, and politics.' Still, most content creators in Cuba avoid directly confronting the government. Instead, they often reflect the absurdities and hardships of daily life — power outages, failing public services, food shortages and soaring prices — in subtle, often humorous ways. Speaking from Havana to el Nuevo Herald, Valdés describes El Chicle as a hybrid of various foreign and Cuban comedians. 'He's a kind of Frankenstein,' he says. 'He has a bit of Alexis Valdés and Limay Blanco — mostly Alexis — and also the Argentine YouTuber Gaspi.' Don't think the nickname has to do with chewing gum. The name 'El Chicle' comes from a physical trait: in Cuban slang, chiclano refers to someone with only one testicle. But that's not his only distinctive feature. Above his shaved eyebrows, Valdés has the female genitalia tattooed on his forehead. 'It symbolizes the connection between the mind and sexual instinct,' he explains. 'I wanted to synchronize them in my head.' His look also includes colorful wigs, sunglasses, makeup, tight or eccentric clothes, and sometimes a wild Michael Jackson impersonation right on the street. What Valdés values most in his character is spontaneity. 'I don't plan much. Other content creators organize their videos more, but I just hit the street and boom — I'm El Chicle,' he says. 'Even how I edit is strange. I improvise.' He films himself using both the front and rear cameras on his phone. Sometimes, a friend helps. Many people, he says, end up in his videos and enjoy the experience — though their initial reaction is usually shock or tension. One of his worst moments was during a prank in which he grabbed a man's backpack to simulate a robbery. The man didn't find it funny: he chased Valdés down, pinned him to the ground, and remained visibly angry — even after learning it was a joke. READ MORE: China plans to open a solar-powered shoe factory in Cuba Although the incident didn't escalate further, the video became one of the most-watched clips on his old page, drawing more than 1,500 comments. Some scolded him for being reckless, others cheered the 'deserved' response — and many praised his boldness. 'In the end, people laugh, even if that doesn't always show up in the posts,' says Valdés. 'It's true some of the jokes have gone too far.' He admits he needs to 'refine' his character. El Chicle's popularity isn't limited to street pranks. He's released catchy reggaeton tracks like 'El Pasillongo,' which racked up nearly one million views on YouTube in just four months. 'I want to keep improving my music and dancing,' he says. 'Maybe I'll pick up an instrument. Humor can always evolve a little more.' In 2020, Leonardo del Valle Pino saw the internet as a way to make his dream come true. That year, the Cuban government imposed one of the strictest COVID-19 lockdowns in the Americas, confining people to their homes with threats of heavy fines and other penalties. Del Valle turned to humor as a way to cope. He began uploading short videos to his WhatsApp status, and his contacts quickly took notice — encouraging him to keep going. Around that time, the slang term tortillero — literally, 'omelet maker' — began circulating in Cuba to describe someone who was constantly joking around. 'People would say, 'You're a tortillero' to mean you made a joke out of everything,' Del Valle told El Nuevo Herald. 'My friends saw the videos and started calling me La Tortilla. Eventually, I decided to embrace the name,' says the 25-year-old, who lives in Havana's Playa municipality. READ MORE: Cuba announces new rules for investing in hotels and a hike in state pensions He acknowledges the name of his page is 'a bit extravagant.' Of course, tortilla refers to the classic egg dish, but it also has a sexual connotation in Cuban slang, referring to women who are romantically involved with other women. 'That part never even crossed my mind,' he adds. His content leans heavily into anime. His followers often see wild, over-the-top videos influenced by Japanese animated series — like an epic battle with his parents over housework. Maybe it's a cleaning session that ends with a mother who has special powers to throw flip-flops, or a showdown sparked by who has to take out the trash. 'I've been watching anime since I was a kid. I've seen so many shows,' he says. 'Each frame inspires me — and then I try to recreate it.' Despite initially having a 'negative mindset' about the future of his page, Del Valle believed that content creators in Cuba could find ways to earn money if their posts gained traction. On the island, direct monetization through platforms like Instagram or YouTube is limited by restrictions tied to U.S. sanctions. Still, many Cuban influencers have found workarounds — often partnering with brands and small businesses, according to official media reports. Earnings vary widely depending on the terms of each collaboration. Del Valle says he's charged up to $250 per promotion. When the offer comes from a U.S.-based company, the rate can sometimes double. One of his most notable partnerships has been with Aeroenvío, a shipping agency that delivers packages from Miami to Cuba. 'I started from scratch, took risks, posted older clips I'd made, and then new videos,' he said. 'It took me a year to reach 1,000 followers, but then it all clicked once I figured out how Instagram's algorithm works to boost reach.' His strategy includes paying close attention to trends, viral content, and hashtags. Some of his most popular videos parody social media challenges — like dances to Kendrick Lamar's 'Not Like Us.' He learned it all on his own. In just over two years, Tortilla Cubana surpassed 150,000 followers on Instagram. Del Valle says his love for digital culture began when he discovered Spanish YouTubers like AuronPlay (Raúl Álvarez). But what truly sets his page apart is the starring role of his parents — Jesús del Valle and Irina Pino — who have supported his creative efforts from day one. They appear in many of his sketches, turning Tortilla Cubana into a family project — not just for the income, but for the joy it brings. 'Something funny is that my dad has never said a word on camera, but he's naturally funny,' Del Valle says. 'The first video I ever made was with him. He worked for years as a singer and comedian and performed with big names in Cuba, including the late Carlos Ruiz de la Tejera. My mom, on the other hand, didn't like being filmed. But eventually, we had so much fun recording together.' He also prides himself on using visual effects in his videos. A family friend taught him the basics of Adobe Premiere Pro. From there, he dove into YouTube tutorials and eventually taught himself Adobe After Effects. 'That one was more complex,' he says, 'but it let me do more advanced editing.' Del Valle always had a knack for technology. He once dreamed of studying computer science but never pursued it. Before becoming a full-time content creator, he worked in a cellphone repair shop. 'Since I started making videos, everything has changed. I used to be very introverted — I didn't like talking to people outside my circle. But now, my life has completely shifted. I enjoy going out, meeting people, connecting,' he says. One of his proudest moments came when Rubén Doblas — the massively popular Spanish YouTuber known as El Rubius — reacted to one of his videos. 'I'd followed him for a long time. Seeing his reaction was surreal,' Del Valle says. 'It made me realize how far my content could go. I feel fulfilled because I'm doing what I love — and because people send messages full of love and support for my family and me.' Laws in Cuba: Not everything viral is welcome In 2024, the Cuban government enacted a Social Communication Law that allows influencers to promote content on their pages — but also holds them legally responsible for their ads and posts. So far, creators like El Chicle and Tortilla Cubana have not faced government pushback or consequences for their videos. But that hasn't been the case for others who directly criticize the regime. One prominent example is Yoandi Montiel Hernández, better known as El Gato de Cuba (The Cat from Cuba), who spent nearly two years in prison on charges of 'contempt' after posting a series of viral videos — including one in which he named a frog after Cuba's leader Miguel Díaz-Canel. Under Cuba's penal code, insulting a public official can carry a penalty of six months to a year in prison. But when the insult targets the president, vice president, or other high-ranking authorities, the punishment can extend up to three years. 'The arrival of the internet in Cuba has radically changed how information circulates and has greatly weakened the traditional monopoly on state media,' said Theodore Henken, a researcher and professor at the City University of New York (CUNY) who has written extensively about Cuba's digital landscape. Lina Hernández, the grandmother who dances reparto When Lina Hernández posts a video online, she often receives comments about her age — some admiring, others less kind. CiberCuba, a popular independent news site, has shared her videos celebrating the vibrant energy of a grandmother dancing reparto, a Cuban reggaeton subgenre. Hernández is 71 years old and lives in Havana. She worked in economics in the tourism sector before retiring. Today, she's a homemaker — and an unexpected influencer. What began as a hobby now earns her over 73,000 Instagram followers. Her first video on the platform appeared in December 2022. Just a month later, she went viral with a humorous skit about Cubans trying to leave the island with the help of a coyote (a human smuggler) which racked up more than 60,000 reactions. Her dance videos also gained traction. In January 2025, one of her reels earned 58,000 likes and waves of praise — though not without criticism from some viewers who said she was 'too old' to be on social media. 'Honestly, I never thought my videos could go viral. I did it just for fun. I'm not shy,' Hernández told el Nuevo Herald. She's sometimes joined on camera by friends her age. She says the biggest hurdles to making content are Cuba's 'terrible internet' and constant power outages, especially because lighting is so important for her videos. She often films during daylight hours or rushes to shoot when the electricity briefly returns. Unlike El Chicle's raw improvisation or Tortilla Cubana's digital wizardry, Hernández's content is more curated: she pays attention to what's trending and crafts posts based on Cuban humor, daily frustrations and relatable struggles. Still, she believes younger, conventionally attractive creators are more likely to go viral. But that doesn't stop her. 'I don't give much weight to negative comments,' she says. 'I just try to entertain.' Hernández hopes that one day her content will generate enough income to support her — as it has for others. In that spirit, Del Valle, the creator of Tortilla Cubana, encourages other Cubans to believe in their talents and the new horizons that digital tools can open, even in a country full of obstacles. 'It's a very meaningful experience, and more Cubans should join in,' says Del Valle. 'There are many limitations, no doubt — but if there's will, it can be done.'
NBC News
2 days ago
- Politics
- NBC News
Hundreds of meatpacking workers with work permits lose their jobs following Trump immigration crackdown
Hundreds of immigrant workers at a meatpacking plant in Iowa have lost their jobs and face deportation risks after their work authorizations, which were tied to their immigration status, were revoked following the Trump administration's termination of a series of legal immigration programs. More than 200 employees at a JBS pork production facility in the city of Ottumwa began receiving letters of termination six weeks ago and having individual meetings with their employer, according to Otumwa Mayor Rick Johnson and Brian Ulin, a member and spokesperson of the United Food & Commercial Workers Local 230, which represents JBS workers in Ottumwa. In the meetings, JBS told the affected employees that their 'status was being rejected' by the company's verification system, Ulin told NBC News on Tuesday. "It said that they were no longer eligible to work in the U.S.' Many of the employees lost their legal immigration status and thus their accompanying work authorizations following the Trump administration's termination of programs such as the CHNV parole program for Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans and Venezuelans, as well as various types of Temporary Protected Status, or TPS, according to the mayor, Ulin and Paulina Ocegueda, vice president of Ottumwa's chapter of the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC), the nation's oldest Hispanic civil rights organization. The programs gave temporary legal status to eligible immigrants from certain countries who have undergone natural disasters or political turmoil. 'They came here legally and they were doing it the right way," Ocegueda told NBC News. The Trump administration has argued that the TPS and CHNV programs are meant to be temporary and have allowed too many immigrants to enter the country. 'President Trump is enforcing federal immigration law and fulfilling his promise to the American people to end the exploitation of temporary programs — like TPS and CHNV — that were never intended to be a path to permanent status or citizenship," White House spokesperson Abigail Jackson said in a statement to NBC News. "Under the Biden Administration, programs like CHNV were abused to admit hundreds of thousands of poorly vetted illegal aliens," Jackson stated, adding that there "is no shortage of American minds and hands to grow our labor force." 'A scary time for them' Ocegueda said LULAC had been meeting with employees losing their jobs and work authorizations who are now struggling to pay for their homes and feed their children. 'It's just a very scary time for them right now,' Ocegueda said. 'We're just trying to make sure that our community is not scared, making sure that they try to find the right resources.' Nikki Richardson, the head of communications at JBS, told NBC News in an email Tuesday evening that the company is "focused on hiring team members who are legally authorized to work in the United States, and will continue to follow the guidance provided to us by the U.S. government." "If that guidance changes, we will act accordingly. We are communicating to any impacted employees that if their status changes or they have different documentation to share, they are eligible for reinstatement and/or rehire," Richardson said. The affected meatpacking plant in Ottumwa is the city's biggest employer, according to Ocegueda and Ulin. 'People have to wake up. People have to realize how much this is going to hurt all of us. We are messing with people's lives right now," Ocegueda said. During a City Council meeting July 15, Johnson said: 'JBS has been issuing 200 notices to people from Haiti, Cuba, Guatemala and Nicaragua. These people have work visas, but they've been revoked and the Supreme Court has upheld those revocations." "When people get these letters, it's my understanding JBS is meeting with each of these families individually. Their employment at JBS is terminated immediately and they have to get out of the country immediately," the mayor continued. Even though resources are limited, Ulin said the union is trying to help impacted members with legal assistance. Some of the employees were fairly new and others had worked at JBS for a long time, Ulin said. He described them as "hardworking, decent people" who are "just trying to better themselves." "They're not being treated fairly. They did everything right. They did what they were told do. They followed the procedure," Ulin said. "But because of some political B.S. ... they're caught in the middle." He also pointed out that these are the same meatpacking workers the first Trump administration deemed essential workers during the Covid pandemic. "Everybody working on that plant, some of these people were among them, showed up for work willingly and proudly, to put food on the table during a crisis time," Ulin said. "Five short years later, because of some political immigration issue — you're not good enough to work here anymore. I just have an issue with that." According to Richardson, the JBS "facilities are operating normally and our production levels remain unchanged" as of Tuesday evening.
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Miami Herald
2 days ago
- Politics
- Miami Herald
Miami Herald, el Nuevo Herald reporter Nora Gámez Torres wins Maria Moors Cabot prize
Nora Gámez Torres, the Miami Herald and el Nuevo Herald reporter who has spent more than a decade chronicling the dramatic changes inside Cuba, including daily life amid a collapsing economy, has been awarded the prestigious Maria Moors Cabot Prize for career excellence. Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism announced Wednesday that Gámez Torres, a reporter with McClatchy newspapers, the Miami Herald and el Nuevo Herald, is among this year's winners for 'her fair, accurate and groundbreaking journalism.' She will be awarded the Cabot Gold Medal, the university said, at a ceremony in October. Gámez Torres is the 17th Herald journalist to win the lifetime achievement prize, the oldest award in international journalism and the most prestigious for coverage of Latin America and the Caribbean. The Cuba-born journalist also joins a prestigious list of Cubans and Cuban Americans who have also been honored over the years by the Cabot jury for promoting inter-American understanding of life under Cuba's communist regime. 'For more than a decade, Miami Herald and el Nuevo Herald correspondent Nora Gámez Torres has provided deeply reported, compelling coverage of Cuba, becoming the most authoritative voice on the island nation in the U.S. media,' the announcement said. Gámez Torres, who came to the Herald from academia, first joined el Nuevo Herald in 2014. Since then, her coverage has become a go-to resource for everyone from relatives living in the U.S. seeking information about what's happening on the island to policy hawks trying to carve out U.S. policy. Her essential coverage of U.S.-Cuba relations and historic developments on the island often beats Havana-based competition, although she has not been allowed inside Cuba for nine years, the Cabot jury noted. 'With Cuban media under tight government control, many Cubans also learn about events in their own country through her reporting,' said the judges. The Maria Moors Cabot jury highlighted Gámez Torres' reporting on the pivotal role that Cuban Americans in Miami played in the return of capitalist enterprises to Cuba; her exclusives on the Havana Syndrome illness that struck U.S. diplomats, and the arrest of a former U.S. ambassador in Miami who pleaded guilty to acting as a foreign agent for Cuba. Earlier this year, Secretary of State Marco Rubio cited her reporting during his confirmation hearing to become the Trump administration's top diplomat. During questioning about U.S. policy toward Cuba, Rubio referenced Gámez Torres exposé on how Cuba's military-run conglomerate, GAESA, has been hoarding billions of dollars in its secret accounts while the population suffers from electrical blackouts and starvation. Cuba runs one of the world's best intelligence services. Gámez Torres series, based on leaked documents, wasn't just a testament to her sourcing but her years of trusted reporting. The stories marked the first time internal information from GAESA's accounting system had been publicly disclosed. 'Nora embodies the spirit of courageous journalism that the Cabot Prize represents. Her work has consistently illuminated complex issues with depth, clarity and fearlessness,' said Alex Mena, executive editor of the Miami Herald and el Nuevo Herald. 'We are incredibly proud to see her named a Cabot Prize winner. It is a well-deserved honor and a powerful recognition of the impact of her reporting.' In addition to her investigations on government mismanagement and corruption, Gámez's reporting portfolio includes stories on human rights violations and political repression inside Cuba. That includes stories on the unprecedented anti-government protests in July 2021, the surprising return of capitalism to the island and the historic exodus of Cubans fleeing extreme poverty and repression. As a result of her hard hitting reports, she has been a frequent target of attacks by Cuban state media and state security forces. 'It is with great gratitude that I accept the María Moors Cabot award, which is also a testament to the Miami Herald and el Nuevo Herald's commitment to covering Cuba and the Cuban American community in South Florida,' Gámez Torres said. 'Throughout my time at the Herald, I have been inspired and mentored by colleagues and friends who have won this prestigious award. And I am honored to continue the line of Cuba-born journalists who have received this distinction.' That list includes former Herald foreign correspondent and assistant world editor Juan Tamayo and former Herald publisher and former head of the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation Alberto Ibargüen, who received a special citation along with Cuban dissident and blogger Yoani Sanchez. While Cuba and the Cuban American diaspora are her speciality, Gámez Torres also reports on U.S. foreign policy toward Latin America and the Caribbean. More recently, she has also been involved in reporting on the Trump administration's immigration crackdown. Gámez Torres, the Cabot jury said, 'keeps both governments in her sights; she reported on a Cuban woman who was detained while doing a routine ICE check-in and then deported, leaving a still breastfeeding daughter and American husband behind.' Gámez Torres has been part of winning investigative teams, including those behind the Panama Papers, the Odebrecht series and the Bribery Division series in partnership with other national and international media outlets. Her work has been recognized by the Florida Society of News Editors, the Society of Professional Journalists and others. Gámez first studied journalism at the University of Havana, where she later taught Media Theory. She has a Ph.D in Sociology from City University of London and a Master of Science in Media and Communications from the London School of Economics.
The Guardian
2 days ago
- Business
- The Guardian
US workers say Trump's immigration crackdown is causing labor shortages: ‘A strain on everybody'
Donald Trump's crackdown on immigration is piling pressure on US factories, according to employees and union leaders, as veteran workers from overseas are forced to leave their jobs. As economists warn the administration's full-scale deportation ambitions could ultimately cost millions of jobs, workers at two sites – in Michigan and Kentucky – told the Guardian that industrial giants are grappling with labor shortages. The US president has moved to strip more than a million immigrants of their legal status in the US, including by shutting down the Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans, Venezuelans (CHNV) Parole Program, which allowed hundreds of thousands to work legally in the country. It has meanwhile ramped up immigration arrest operations with prospective daily quotas of 3,000 arrests per day. Such moves have piled pressure on industries across the US economy – including the food, hospitality, construction, transportation and care sectors – which rely on large numbers of migrants to do essential work. At a GE Appliances plant in Louisville, Kentucky, more than 125 workers were abruptly forced out of their jobs in the spring due to programs cancelled as part of Trump's immigration crackdown, according to an employee. GE Appliances makes home appliances including refrigerators, microwaves and dishwashers. 'In three different buildings, on a couple of different shifts, stewards reported that they lost production so they weren't able to make all the products they were supposed to make,' said Jess Reese, a replacement operator at the plant and organizer for IUE-CWA Local 83761. 'It was hard to cover certain job tasks on the assembly line, and so that created chaos, and it was just hard to get things done.' Reese expressed concern about the threat of more workers being forced out. Trump's efforts to revoke protected status could impact an additional 200 union members next February, she said. 'Hundreds of workers kind of disappearing at the drop of a hat is no joke, as we've seen with the last wave of mass terminations.' A spokesperson for GE Appliances said: 'We added additional staffing where needed and continue to follow the law.' At a Kraft-Heinz plant in Holland, Michigan, meanwhile, workers are said to have been mandated to work overtime. The firm is one of the largest food and beverage companies in the world, behind brands including Philadelphia cream cheese and Jell-O deserts. 'We had people there for 20 years, and all of a sudden they get notification their immigration authorization is revoked,' Tomas Torres, a maintenance mechanic of 13 years, and president of RWDSU Local 705. 'And they can't be there anymore, and that just puts a strain on everybody,. 'The lack of people on the lines. There are employees running two machines; it should be one person per machine. Manager and supervisors are all stressed out, and cancelling vacations for people because they don't have enough to run the machines.' Torres has been working 12- to 14-hour days, he said: part of a first shift, all of a second shift, and part of a third shift. 'I'm tired. And you catch people falling asleep on the line, and it's a big safety issue,' he added. 'All of this that has happened has affected everybody at the plant. It's crazy, because I hear people complain every single day.' Kraft Heinz refuted the plant is experiencing labor shortages due to immigration policy changes, but did not say how many workers were lost at the plant due to the changes. 'Kraft Heinz has strict work authorization verification processes that comply with all applicable laws and regulations,' said the firm in a statement. 'Overtime is driven by the needs of the business, and we are currently in one of our busiest seasons of the year.' As Trump's officials press ahead, economists have warned that deporting millions of immigrants from the US could have drastic consequences. The Economic Policy Institute estimated this month that 4 million deportations would result in the loss of 3.3 million jobs held by immigrants in the US and 2.6 million US-born employees, hitting industries including construction and childcare. The American Enterprise Institute, a conservative thinktank, meanwhile found that Trump's immigration policies would likely lead to a negative net migration into the US for the first time in decades and result in a decrease in US gross domestic product of between 0.3% and 0.4%, or $70.5bn to $94bn in economic output, annually. 'One day they are there,' said Maria Jose Padmore, a human services assistant for Fairfax County in Virginia. 'And the next day, I'm looking for my coworker, and he's gone because their Temporary Protected Status expired. 'Forget about the fact that I now have to share my coworkers' job. Let's think about my coworkers' family: how are they going to put food on their table?' Padmore was speaking at a panel on how Trump's immigration polices are affecting workers, organized by the AFL-CIO in Washington DC this month. Gwen Mills, President of Unite Here, the largest hospitality union in the US, said they were 'wreaking havoc across the families of our coworkers and in our communities'. 'Oftentimes within the labor movement, we find ourselves divided by industries,' said Jimmy Williams, president of the International Union of Painters and Allied Trades, which represents construction workers. 'When it comes to immigration, it's gotta be the one single thing that puts a thread between a hotel worker, a construction worker, a service worker, a public employee, a teacher. This is something that affects every single working person in this country.' The Trump administration alleges that CHNV and other temporary protected status programs were abused, a claim challenged by groups such as Refugees International. 'There is no shortage of American minds and hands to grow our labor force, and President Trump's agenda to create jobs for American workers represents this Administration's commitment to capitalizing on that untapped potential while delivering on our mandate to enforce our immigration laws,' said Abigail Jackson, White House spokesperson. But its policies are already causing apprehension on the factory floor. 'This has a real impact on immigrant workers, obviously, but it also has a real impact on non immigrant workers,' Reese, at the GE Appliances plant in Louisville, said. 'It's really important that we stick together, because we all want the same things. 'We want safe workplaces. We want good wages. We all want to go home to our family in one piece. We want to live in a safe place. We want to be free. These are things we all share, and we're only going to get that stuff if we stick together.'
