Dutchess County residents for more than a decade, Mexican immigrants Camila and her nephew Carlos (not their real names) study English, determined to improve their ability to communicate.  Credit: Mary Jenkins 

 

Dutchess County residents for more than a decade, Mexican immigrants Camila and her nephew Carlos (not their real names) study English, determined to improve their ability to communicate. 
Credit: Mary Jenkins

Natives of Mexico, Camila and her nephew Carlos (whose names have been changed here for privacy) have lived in Dutchess County for more than a decade, working, paying taxes and taking English classes, even though they lack permanent legal status. They risked their lives to cross the Southwest border and join their relatives in the United States. “It’s scary to think about,” Carlos said in halting English. “I wanted so desperately to get out of poverty that I was willing to put myself in danger.” 

Camila and Carlos sheltered with family once they reached their destination in the Hudson Valley. Despite a guarantee of confidentiality, they were afraid to access direct aid or legal services provided by the North East Community Center in Millerton, or Northern Dutchess Immigrant Services in Millbrook. “My family took care of me,” said Camila. Relatives helped her find a job as a full-time housekeeper and open a bank account. (Chase and Wells Fargo banks require only proof of nationality.) Carlos found full-time construction work and got a driver’s license, made easier by New York state’s Green Light Law (no SSN needed). Theirs are typical jobs held by immigrants entering the country illegally; others include nanny and farmhand. 

Of the 45 million immigrants in the U.S., an estimated 11 million have entered without legal permission, and half of those came from Mexico. Attaining legal status can be difficult. Most immigrants don’t qualify as an asylum seeker or refugee; the process of becoming a naturalized U.S.citizen is hard to navigate and can take a decade; the forms for a visa are complicated, and the competition to get one is steep. A majority have lived in the U.S. for more than a decade, with no clear path to citizenship.  

In New York state, half of the 55,000 farm workers are immigrants without documentation, as are 54% of construction workers and 30% of domestic workers. Deportations in the Mid-Hudson Valley are uncommon—available data reports no “removals” from Dutchess County in 2020. Rick Osofsky, the co-owner of Ronnybrook Farm Dairy in Pine Plains, said at least 20 of his 40 employees are immigrants, most of them from Mexico. He explained, “Our 12 hour days start at 5 a.m. and this work is physical. Locals would rather have jobs that aren’t as demanding, with higher pay.” 

All immigrant workers need a Social Security number to be employed so business owners can report wages and pay the 12% payroll tax. This has led to a reportedly common practice: Those who enter the U.S. illegally borrow or buy SSNs. Immigrants without proper documentation contributed more than $13 billion to Social Security and $3 billion to Medicare in 2020 alone, even though they won’t benefit from these programs unless they become citizens. Employers also have to complete a federal Form I-9 for each worker verifying identity and eligibility for employment, using two IDs like a driver’s license and birth certificate (SSN optional). “Like other farms around here, we get the employee’s Social Security number for our payroll, fill out the I-9, and that’s all we need,” Osofsky said. 

New York state ranks fifth in the numbers of Hispanic workers without proper documentation. 
Credit: Courtesy of Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services

Most immigrants without proper documentation obtain an Individual Taxpayer Identification Number (ITIN) from the IRS to be able to pay personal taxes without a Social Security number. The IRS reports that three-fourths of these immigrants pay income tax, amounting to over $19 billion dollars annually in federal taxes and $11.7 billion in state and local. Many want to show they’re obeying the law, demonstrating the “good moral character” that will be important should they decide to obtain legal status.   

There is low turnover at Ronnybrook. Workers live in Pine Plains (occasionally in housing subsidized by Osofsky), and their children attend Pine Plains schools—some have had Osofsky’s wife, Jean, as their teacher. All children and youth between the ages of 5 and 21 have the right to free public school education in the U.S. regardless of immigration status; children born in the U.S. to immigrants without proper documents are considered legal citizens.  

“I have to say it makes no sense that either political party hasn’t addressed the immigrant problem,” Osofsky said. “Businesses need them, and the U.S. economy is dependent on them. There’s got to be a structure in place.” The U.S. Citizenship Act of 2023 would simplify the process, but it is stalled in Congress. The law allows these immigrants to apply for temporary legal status, and the opportunity to apply for lawful permanent residence after five years if they pass background checks and pay taxes. Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals participants (“dreamers”) and agricultural workers who meet specific requirements would be immediately eligible for green cards, with eligible spouses and children included.   

Dutchess County Legislature Chair Gregg Pulver said via email that he recognizes the valuable contribution immigrants without proper documents have made to the farming community, but noted the issue must be addressed on a federal level. He recommended they get “put on the books” by obtaining an H2-A visa, guaranteeing them fair wages. According to the U.S. Department of Labor, the H2-A program supplies 10% of farm labor; created for temporary agricultural employment of foreign workers (less than one year), it does not put them on the path to permanent U.S. residence or citizenship. 

Half of Ronnybrook Farm Dairy employees in Pine Plains are immigrants, working as farmers, dairymen, packagers and pasteurizers. 
Credit: Mary Jenkins

Ever-changing policies and red tape seem a small impediment to those in Central and South America desperate for a job or fearing for their safety. The U.S. Border Patrol apprehends an average of 6,900 people trying to cross the border each day, and 600 die annually from such causes as dehydration, exposure or abandonment in the locked truck of a coyote (a smuggler who transports people and goods across the Southwest border).  

In 2012, Carlos risked a harrowing trek across the Sonoran Desert. In four days he hiked 70 miles from Nogales, Mexico, to Tucson, Ariz., carrying only a backpack containing bottled water and a few clothes. Led by a coyote, Carlos and a dozen other immigrants slept in the scrub by day, then hiked in starlight to avoid detection by the Border Patrol. 

“I was exhausted, terrified and so thirsty,” Carlos, 33, recalled. Three miles from the city, he was spotted, captured and deported by the Tucson Sector Border Patrol. Within two nights of his return to Mexico, Carlos said he and two companions used ropes to scale a 25-foot tall border wall. They met a waiting coyote, who hid them in a truckload of chili peppers and drove to a Tucson safe house. Three days later Carlos crowded into a small sedan with seven others and drove 48 hours nonstop to New York state. 

Carlos said each immigrant paid the coyote $8,000; the second crossing cost Carlos an additional $2,000. (Prices from coyotes can go as high as $20,000.) Carlos’ family in New York state covered his fees. 

Camila’s exodus 16 years ago is similar: a $6,000 coyote fee paid by her American relatives; a perilous night hike through the mountains just across the border from Tijuana; a road trip to Los Angeles where Camila, then 43, was squeezed into the sleeper cab of a coyote’s semi with five strangers; a plane trip ride—her first—to New York state for an additional $1,000.   

Carlos and Camila have become typical Pine Plains residents. They get gas and coffee at Stewart’s and use a local library, where they also take free English classes. (Like more than half of immigrants without documentation, their English is poor. ) Both said they have felt safe living in their community, and unlike 50% of Hispanic immigrants, have not experienced discrimination.  

“I am grateful for my life here in America. I’m sad that I couldn’t return to Mexico City for my sister’s funeral, and I wish I could meet my new grandson,” Camila said in a whisper, eyes brimming with tears, “But if I went to visit, I couldn’t come back to my home in Dutchess County.”  

Carlos and Camila have chosen not to change their undocumented status. “That prospect is complicated and overwhelming,” Carlos said. “Things are good the way they are: The United States has offered us peace and stability.” 

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