Braceros helped build America. Honor them
My abuelo (grandfather in Spanish) was born in a tiny pueblo called Mezcala in Jalisco, Mexico. At the age of 12, he learned his father died in prison. Though he was an avid student, he left school to work and support his mother and six siblings. When local jobs could barely pay enough to put milk and tortillas on the table, he ventured north to California in 1955 at age 14 to work in the bracero program — a temporary federal work program to import farmworkers from Mexico to alleviate agricultural labor shortages.
Over the program’s duration, from 1942 to 1964, over 2 million Mexican farmworkers like my abuelo kept America fed while World War II raged and the subsequent post-war economy boomed. Braceros did work that other Americans did not want to do. Their efforts helped push America’s gross domestic product from about $200 billion in 1940 to $300 billion by 1950. It topped $500 billion in 1960, establishing the U.S. as the richest nation in the world. This economic growth was supported by a steady food supply from farmworkers of color, who were underpaid, neglected and discriminated against.
Most faced dehumanizing conditions during their tenure in the program — and my abuelo was no exception. The first time I talked with him about the bracero program was the only time in my life I saw him cry. Because of racial stereotypes that Mexicans were dirty and carried disease, every bracero was stripped naked as they crossed the border and sprayed with pesticides. They also labored under intense heat and unsafe conditions. Wage theft was prevalent and workers essentially lived on top of each other in cramped shacks with poor plumbing. My abuelo, already aching from the impact of being a teenager far from his family, was always disheartened to know that his labor was unappreciated by the country he fed.
Despite the labor and contributions of my abuelo and the millions beside him, the neglect these heroes faced in their working lives has been followed by a neglect of their stories in our education system. Very few Americans have even heard about the braceros. And this has had a cascading effect on the mistreatment of today’s farmworkers.
In California, 79% of individuals named in social science textbooks are white. And there are real consequences to not teaching an inclusive and truthful history. Legislators continue to make public policy decisions that treat farmworkers as economic assets and not human beings. Today’s farmworkers in California have worked amid a global pandemic with minimal access to protective equipment and in crowded housing conditions that led to higher COVID-19 infections and deaths.
Remedying this treatment can be aided by recognizing and teaching about the place of the braceros in American history, and the role that farmworkers — who remain predominantly Latino — play in keeping America running. We can ensure these stories are represented in education by implementing ethnic studies courses at the high school level. A study from UCLA shows that taking ethnic studies courses in high school helps all students mitigate racial biases and establish a stronger connection to their American identity. A bill by Riverside Assembly Member Jose Medina, AB 101, would make ethnic studies a high school graduation requirement in California. This bill should be signed into law and replicated across the nation. Teaching the stories of all Americans, including the braceros, will ensure that future public policy leaders know the histories of underrepresented communities and make legislative decisions that consider their experiences.
As we enter Latino Heritage Month in the U.S., I’ve reflected on the pathways of my Mexican American family into this country. On my mother’s side, my grandfather’s grandparents were Mexican Revolution refugees and my grandmother immigrated in the 1970s. On my dad’s side, my abuela’s (grandmother) father went back and forth between Mexico and the U.S. for work before settling in San Francisco, while my abuelo came through the bracero program. Millions of Latinos trace their U.S. journey through the braceros. Now 80, my abuelo is among the last of them alive.
It’s long past time to teach stories like my grandfather’s. Doing so can help today’s farmworkers, who deserve better treatment and a pathway to citizenship for keeping America fed during a pandemic. It also ensures that the braceros’ descendants, like me and my family, see our stories in American history. As U.S. Secretary of Education Miguel Cardona would say, we’re “as American as apple pie and rice and beans.”