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For the past 16 years, Isabel has been harvesting carrots, lemons and grapes in the Coachella Valley.
Three undocumented mothers — like the others the times spoke of, refused to give her last name out of fear of her family’s safety — says the heat in recent summers has become increasingly difficult. And now, with fewer workers appearing from fear of ongoing immigration enforcement raids across California, Isabel says she has to endure fewer breaks and more physical strains.
The crew, which once counted five groups of 18 workers, has declined to three groups of 18 people each. However, the request has not been changed.
“You have to pack so many boxes in a day,” Isabelle said in Spanish. “If it takes time to get water, I ignore the box I’m packing. I have to try harder.”
California’s outdoor fever standards (applicable to all legal or undocumented workers) guarantee shade and water breaks. But fear of being behind often discourages workers from using it, workers advocates say. And because there are few workers in this sector, employers began asking people who appear to stay later in the day. Some people who were at home by 1pm are in the fields during the hottest part of the afternoon, they say.
Isabel described the recent incident in a female crew member who appears to be suffering from heat stroke. The supervisor helped her, but “but it took me a while to call 911,” Isabelle said.
Sandra Reyes, program manager at the Todeck Legal Center, working with immigrants and their families in the Inland Empire and Coachella Valley, said he saw the same pattern unfolding across California’s agricultural community. Less workers means greater physical strain for those who remain. And in the fields, the strain rapidly produces compounds under high heat. “There are times when the body just lets out,” Reyes said.
“This all comes from fear.”
Outreach workers deliver cold drinks to those living in tents arranged between Imperial Valley, as temperatures go well above 100 degrees.
(Robert Gautier/Los Angeles Times)
From across Southern California, from fields to homes, parks and markets, the fear of immigrant enforcement makes it more difficult for individuals and families to stay safe as temperatures rise.
On early June 18th, in the Eastern Coachella Valley, words spread that unmarked cars and SUVs later spread between helicopter and military convoys between farm vehicles and transports, and federal agents correctly speculated that they had converged on the fields.
The response was immediate, anticipating a raid by customs and border protection or immigration and customs enforcement. Workers – many undocumented – run away, some enter the fields, hide under the grapevine, or climb the palm trees of the date. Local organizers began receiving calls from frightened workers and their families.
“There are times when my body just sticks out.”
– Sandra Reyes, Todeck Legal Center
It was hot to make things worse. The Inland Congregations, a nonprofit community organization in San Bernardino, sent teams over water and ice. They found many people who were in the fiery sun for hours and feared returning home. The temperature spiked to 113 degrees and when I ate grapes from the grapes to maintain hydration, the water was depleted. “There [were] J. Reyeslopez, who works with the organization, said:
Authorities later confirmed that the multi-agency operations led by the Drug Enforcement Administration detained between 70 and 75 undocumented individuals, part of the Trump administration’s immigration enforcement efforts.
In subsequent times there was a lasting impact on the field. “Many [workers] Todeck’s Reyes hasn’t returned to work,” Todeck’s Reyes said. And it became clear that for those who returned, they were expected to do the same amount of work soon.
The summer of 2024 saw record-breaking heat in Southern California, with experts predicting 2025 being equally bad if not bad. These climate rises — primarily due to climate change — have serious consequences for workers and their families, said Arturo Vargas Bustamante, professor of health policy and management at UCLA. Exposure to extreme fever can cause or exacerbate many health issues, including convulsions, strokes, cardiovascular disease, and kidney disease, as well as mental health problems.
Farmers in San Jacinto listen to representatives from Todeck’s law centre.
(Allen J. Scheven/Los Angeles Times)
It’s not just farm workers who are affected. Car wash employees are often exposed to direct heat without regular access to water or breaks, according to Flor Rodriguez, executive director of Clean Carwash Worker Center.
Because the industry has become a target for the execution business, parking owners had to hire staff to replace workers who were arrested or no longer come. It often means hiring young, experienced people who are new to workplace situations and protection.
“The most dangerous day in the workplace is your first day,” said Sheryal Chaoszi, executive director of the Warehouse Workers Resource Centre.
He said that even if workers feel physically unsafe, they may not speak up due to fear of occupational safety. When that happens, “preventive tactics like rest, cooling, drinking water don’t happen,” he said.
“We only see the beginning. People are suffering quietly.”
– Marvelles, Policy Director for the Healthy California Latin Union
Itzel is the recipient of postponed behavior for childhood arrival policy when his family lives in Long Beach, and has seen the same pattern among his colleagues in the landscape industry.
“They want to go to the scene early and they want to leave as soon as possible,” she said. “They don’t take a break. … They don’t have lunch.” When they do, it is often within 30 minutes, and many choose to eat behind closed gates rather than under the shade of trees, if it means they will remain in better hideout.
Excessive symptoms under peak heat are becoming a survival strategy, Javier Hernandez, executive director of the Inland Coalition for Immigrant Justice, at the expense of physical health, a way to reduce ice exposure.
Heat is unlike more visible workplace hazards, often unreported and unrecognised, especially in industries where workers are temporarily, undocumented or unfamiliar with their rights.
“The number of people affected by the fever is huge,” Chaosji said. “The fever is really complicated.”
And the presence of ice currently reported in clinics and hospitals has compromised access to medical care. “This is another way these communities can terrify,” Kaoosji said.
In the Inland Empire, where summer temperatures are regularly rising to triple digits, Hernandez said many families are now making impossible choices. Do they stay inside and risk fever fatigue, or are they at risk of going out and taking it?
These questions shaped Isabel’s life. She only works a few days a week when she feels safe enough to leave her child. This means there’s not enough money to cover the bill.
Isabel and her family now spend most of their days locked up in one room in a mobile home. Their electricity bills skyrocketed from $80 to $250 a month. So far, her family has been able to pay partially to the utility, but as some of her neighbors have happened, they fear what will happen if their electricity is cut off.
Before the attack, Isabel’s family cools down in a nearby stream, going to an air-conditioned store, grabbing raspads and shaving ice. However, in the face of enforcement strengthening, these types of routines have been largely abandoned. “These are very simple things,” Hernandez said. “But they mean a lot to the family.”
Fear also makes it difficult to spend time in public cooling centres, libraries, or other public buildings that can theoretically escape the heat. Isabel’s youngest child is unfamiliar with staying quiet for a long time. She is worried about attracting attention in unfamiliar public spaces.
“I will do my best to keep them cool,” Isabelle said, explaining that she now relies on having her kids bathe regularly as one cooling strategy.
Itzel’s undocumented father has not left his apartment for more than a month, fearing immigration enforcement action. He made up to $6,000 a month as a truck driver, but now he can’t afford to turn on the air conditioner.
Farm workers are located in the fields of San Jacinto.
(Allen J. Scheven/Los Angeles Times)
Once upon a weekend walk, family barbecue, or trips to the park and beach, cool-ups are now isolated.
“We’re basically in the cells,” Itzel said. “This is worse than Covid. At least with Covid, we were able to walk around the block.”
The same applies to five US-born children, a naturalized citizen living in Maywood with her husband, who is uncertain about immigration status.
The previous summer, her family, including four special needs children, relied on public spaces such as parks, splash pads, shopping centres and community centres.
“We’re basically in the cell. This is worse than covid. At least with Covid, we were able to walk around the block.”
– Itzel, DACA recipients in Long Beach
Now, her family spends most of her time indoors in isolation. Even important errands such as picking up medicines and groceries are shifting to nighttime hours for safety reasons. Meanwhile, her husband, the chef, stopped working completely in early June due to fears of deportation. Even turning on one small air conditioner became a financial decision.
Continuous fear, confinement and oppressive fever worsened the mental and physical well-being of her child, she said. Staying indoors has also led to serious health challenges for Mirsa herself, who is suffering from high blood pressure and other medical conditions. On a particularly hot day on June 21st, Mirta got so sick that he went to the hospital.
“My high blood pressure was getting too high. I started to suffer from tachycardia,” she said. Despite Mirsa’s citizenship position, she hesitated to call emergency services and instead asked her husband to drive her and drop her down at the entrance to the emergency room.
Summer temperatures continue to rise, and the executive business continues to expand. “We’re just looking at the beginning,” said Marveles, policy director for the healthy California Latin Union. “People are suffering quietly.”
Jason de Leon, professor of UCLA Anthropology and Chicana/O and Central American Studies, warns that the deportation that took place over the summer will likely force many to repetitive border crossings under the most dangerous conditions of the year. “We are not only harming people to the US, but by deporting them in the summer… They are now trying to run this kind of deadly gauntlet again through the desert.
Isabel claims they are here for one thing: to work.
“We’ve come here just to work. We want to be allowed to work,” she said. “We’re not coming now, we’re just going outside and hiding.” Above all, “We want to be again like we used to – free.”
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