‘It’s five years since a white person applied’: the immigrant workforce milking America’s cows

anti-barabas-ite

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Escaped True Master
you want milk? they immigrants!

its the only way whitey!

without the diversity we face emminant collapse and yuge climate crisis. you want climate crisis? food shortages diseases? get on the train. drop you guns in the barrel.



Products spring out from the walls of Veracruz Mexican market in Monroe, Wisconsin: packets of cinnamon sticks, nuts, seeds, herbs, spices, tiny rainbow-colored sprinkles, chicle; a wall of healthcare like anxiety pills and vitamins for energy, and a shelf devoted entirely to various forms of muscle pain relief. A large meat case full of Mexican specialties, such as longaniza. Piñatas. Maíz. Jarritos. Chicharrones. And rosquillas, a treat in between a cracker and a cookie which is what newly arrived immigrants ask for most often, says Maribel Lobato. She and her husband Santos Tinoco have owned the store for 13 years in Monroe, a small city in Green county about 40 miles south of Madison.

The couple are often first contact for an increasing number of Latinos who immigrate to Monroe – which is 95% white – to work on dairy farms. “We can see the new faces because we know all the Latinos in Monroe,” says Lobato. She offers them donated furniture, clothes, a way to connect to home. An InterCambio Express telephone for sending money sits beneath an advertisement for a $19/hour job at a cheese factory, “but this place requires good papers”, customers in the store say in Spanish.



“I. Am. So. Busy,” says Lobato, who switches between speaking fast English and even faster Spanish.

When a family skidded off the road during their first winter in Monroe and the dad broke his arm in three places, Lobato took care of the kids. The store served as a Covid vaccination center. People bring traffic citations into the store they need help filling out; profiling is so common that after a certain number of tickets, many Latinos here just get a new car. Still, customers will risk the 40-minute drive from Beloit, a city in a neighboring county with a growing Latino population, to get the products they miss. About once a month, someone calls Lobato in the middle of the night to pick them up from the side of the road after their car is confiscated because they don’t have a license.

Across the street from the market, Latino men play pick up games of soccer at Twining Park on weekends. When Lobato and Tinoco arrived 20 years ago from Veracruz, Mexico to meet her brother who had found work on a dairy farm, visibility of Latino culture was rare. That will only continue to change.

Maribel Lobato stands among the aisles of Veracruz Mexican market in Monroe, Wisconsin, surrounded by aisles of Mexican food products and a bin of fresh produce.

Maribel Lobato owns Veracruz Mexican market in Monroe, Wisconsin, with her husband, Santos Tinoco.
Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
As the number of dairy farms in Wisconsin declines, the size of dairy farms is increasing; large farms with thousands of cows that require round-the-clock milking, and by extension, a larger workforce. The foreign-born population in Wisconsin has grown by 45% since 2000, with rural counties seeing largest and fastest growth of that population. Immigrant workers make up approximately 40% of the workforce on Wisconsin dairy farms, and up to 90% are undocumented, according to UMOS, a multi-state farmworker advocacy organization, and the largest Hispanic-managed non-profit organization in Wisconsin. The shift in the way of dairy farming is slowly shifting the demographics of America’s dairyland.

Green county has seen one of the state’s fastest growths in Latino population, increasing by an estimated 228% from 2000 to 2019, according to the Applied Population Lab at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Monroe is the largest city in Green county and has seen a steady increase of Latino immigrants over 20 years. With a population of only about 10,800, new people stand out, which has made the adjustment, like the farm work, incredibly difficult for some dairy workers.

Orange signs advertising job openings in English and Spanish hang on a clear partition at the Veracruz Mexican market.

Cheese factories advertise jobs near the cash register at Veracruz Mexican market.
But as the dairies grow, so will the new population. Work on dairy farms is year-round, not migratory, not seasonal, like on crop farms, which means employees are able to settle down. They build networks and lives. Día de los Muertos, and Las Posadas, a Mexican Christmas event, are celebrated not just in homes but out in the community, at the YMCA. White kindergartners now come home telling parents new Spanish words they learned, thanks to a language immersion program started two years ago in Monroe’s three elementary schools.

Where Americans get our milk is not a red barn, and the people doing the milking are not Mom and Pop, who happen to be white. Without the immigrant labor force on large farms, the nation’s dairy industry would be in crisis.

‘I sleep, eat, work … like bears’
Flies swarm through screenless front and back porch doors of the house where dairy worker Solomon , 38, who is undocumented, lives in Monroe. Inside, kitchen cabinet doors have fallen off, paint is peeling, and sheets serve as room dividers.

The house is hot and quiet. The five other men – all co-workers at the same dairy down the road – are either at work or dead asleep. The house’s owner is their boss at the dairy. The rent is taken directly out of Solomon’s checks.

“First, you’re afraid, they’re huge,” says Solomon, adding that cows in Mexico are “crazy” so it’s natural to be fearful. “Then you see other Latinos doing it and it’s like, OK, I can do it too,” he says through interpreter Natasha Morgan.


We can see the new faces because we know all the Latinos in Monroe.
Maribel Lobato, owner of Veracruz Mexican market
Morgan, who is white, grew up in Monroe and four years ago married a Mexican man; together, they have two kids and one on the way. It was through her job at a local non-profit that offers 24-hour crisis support for women that she first came to know this house. She recently helped a female dairy worker who had been living here but had just been fired. The woman didn’t understand why she was let go, but understood the owner wanted her out of the house, too, immediately. Morgan drove her and her child to a temporary safe house.

Female dairy workers with children hope to share a home with another mother so they can tag-team childcare, Morgan says. Other times, they take their children to work. Morgan says she knew of a dairy worker whose child slept in a playpen through the mother’s night shifts. Anything to keep working.

“We don’t ask for breaks,” says Solomon. He works 16 hour shifts cleaning stalls and feeding cows after milking for the first six months as a dairy worker. Sitting across from him their dining room table is Giovanni, Solomon’s 18-year-old nephew who is shy with a sparse mustache and wears long sleeves and jeans, despite mid-day June stickiness. He just got to Monroe a month ago from Veracruz. He works as a milker – most immigrants work positions that are repetitive, require little training, and sidestep the language barrier such as milking or pushing, which means bringing cows down to the parlor.

Solomon, a dairy worker, stands in a milking parlor. On either side of him are rows of cows backed up to milking machines. Two workers are attaching the machines in the background.

Solomon works at a farm with 650 cows in Monroe, Wisconsin. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
Solomon goes to Veracruz market and sends $1,500 to his wife and two children in Mexico every two weeks. Some Sundays he will pick up a game of soccer at the park, but he is usually too tired. “I sleep, eat, work,” he says. “That’s what we came here to do, be like bears.”

Solomon’s friends who work at Pinnacle – a dairy that milks 5,000 cows and whose website advertises jobs in English and Spanish – say there is a constant turnover of workers. “You have to do every job fast, everything is fast,” he says. Does he want to work at Pinnacle? He shakes his head hard, no. “Too fast,” he says, snapping his fingers quickly to describe the pace.

Todd Tuls, owner of Pinnacle, says he would describe the pace there as “average” and that his staff were mostly Latino, with an “average or better than average” on turnover. He estimates more than 90% of his workforce is Latino.

‘They show up, they need a paycheck’
The 20-minute drive from Monroe to Brodhead, the county’s second most populated city with just over 3,000 people, seems to be just field after field of corn. The three biggest dairies in Green county are all in Brodhead -- Pinnacle started milking in 2018 and is the largest; second is California-transplant Spring Grove, which arrived in 2000. Jeff Williams can see it from the top of Williams Bedrock Bovine, the third-largest farm in the county, which he owns with his brother, Brad. They took the farm over from their father, starting with 48 cows in 1982 – a standard number at the time.

Bachata music blasts from a phone plugged into a speaker next to the milking parlor as dangling milking units clank against 24 metal stalls. A pusher and two milkers move mechanically, never looking up even as Jeff yells over the noise to check in with a shift manager named Lupe.

Jeff, a tall man with a chalk-white mustache, says that even in 2008 when they first expanded up to the 1,100 milking cows they milk today, it was hard to find anyone but Latinos willing to work on the farm; now, it’s been more than five years since a white person has even applied for a job there. Of the 24 employees who work on the farm, five are not Latino, including Jeff and Brad.

“It boils down to they are willing to do the work,” he says, “They don’t have parents footing the bill for them. If they want housing or a car, they have to work. They show up, they need a paycheck.” The majority of the Williams brothers’ Latino employees, including Lupe, have stayed with them for 12 years or more. Jeff suspects it’s because they “are never just pointing our finger for them to do something for us. We’re in our waders waist-deep in cow shit right next to them. We do monthly pizza parties, stuff like that. In the winter, we give them allowances to buy cold weather gear. We see them as humans and try to treat and pay them accordingly,” he says.

Pinnacle dairy is seen from a distance – long, low white buildings surrounded by a green field.

Large dairies like Pinnacle in Brodhead are increasingly common in Green county. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
His farm’s, any farm’s, survival requires a reliable workforce. With that in mind, he understands the need for immigration reform, a viewpoint that isn’t popular in Green county.

“How hard is it to give them some sort of legalization and work towards documentation or legal status? These guys all pay into social security and these guys will never see a dime of it,” he says, with his often unhinged bravado. “At least give them a goddang driver’s license.”

If he expresses this sentiment at the watering hole with white locals, or in a county board meeting where he’s served as a representative for seven years, responses often turn quickly to the misconception that Latino farmworkers don’t pay taxes. “I remind them that it doesn’t matter what color anybody is, they are all on the same pay schedule. I think it enters into racial prejudice,” he says. “They don’t know so they assume.”

‘It was very hard to live here at first’
When dairy workers come into Veracruz market, the smell is telling. But Santos Tinoco won’t send them away or ask them to take off their manure-caked boots. “I know where everyone works,” he says. “They just want to get a drink, some food, go home and relax.” They talk to him about their workdays. He says they tell him that at Pinnacle they barely have time to drink water on a 12-hour shift. (Pinnacle co-owner Todd Tuls refutes this, saying shifts are 12 hours but team members get multiple breaks for 15 and 30 minutes.)

Tinoco says his first name with a hard “A” like “sand”, the more American way. “Life is easier now than before,” he says. “I’m more comfortable now. People know me now. They give me respect for what I’ve done in this town, that’s the benefit of a small town.”


I’ll have teachers tell me, ‘Come get this Hispanic out of my classroom.’ Sometimes I was disappointed by my colleagues.
Sara Stone, an ESL teacher
Still, he remembers feeling disrespected recently when he applied for a business permit at the city hall. “Those secretaries answer me rude, they said, ‘You better forget about this,’” he says. “But it never gets me down.”

It’s harder for him to talk about how racism has impacted his and Lobato’s three sons, so she steps in to explain how alienating going to school in Monroe was for them. “One day he came home and asked me can we buy paint to paint his skin. I said it’s OK that we are brown. I told him paint would come off in the shower anyway, but when he went away, I cried,” she says of their oldest son. Their youngest son, Santos, Jr, the genial kid restocking Jarritos in the store, once shaved his eyebrows and all his arm hair off after being teased at school for not having blond body hair.


Dairy farmers Ron and Lori Wallenhorst on their generational farm in Cuba City, Wisconsin.
Small farms vanish every day in America’s dairyland: ‘There ain’t no future in dairy’
Read more

Sara Stone has been an ESL teacher in the Monroe school district for 18 years. At Taco Martinez, one of two Mexican restaurants in Monroe, a handwritten note above a bright orange InterCambio phone for sending money next to the register says, in Spanish, that anything over $1,000 requires a photo ID. The young woman working the register is Stone’s former student; so is the young woman’s brother, who is the cook. Stone will teach their little sister, who is sitting behind the counter watching TV on a phone, in the fall.

ESL means the students need extra support understanding English and don’t speak English at home; in Monroe, most ESL students are Latino. Enrollment for 2020-2021 at the Monroe school district – three elementary schools, one high school and one middle school; a total of 2,236 students – is 84% white, 12% Latino.

“I’m a bit of a bitch, a ballbuster, at work, because I’ve had to be. I’ll have teachers tell me, ‘Come get this Hispanic out of my classroom.’ Just because the last name is Martinez doesn’t mean he’s one of my kids,” she says, adding that out of about 80 teachers in the district, there are only two that are not white, and they are aides. “Sometimes I was disappointed by my colleagues.”

In 2018, she successfully advocated to the school board for a second ESL teacher at the elementary school because of Pinnacle’s pending arrival. How Pinnacle’s arrival would compound Monroe’s housing crisis was also a concern. “We just don’t have apartment buildings here,” she says.

Like Lobato, Stone never seems to be off the clock, driving around huddles of pastel-colored trailers and the area’s few apartment complexes for unofficial home visits. “This is how you read a report card, fill out medical forms, pay on your kid’s lunch account,” she says. “I did a lot of driving.”

A group of four Latino men and one woman congregate around a dining table in a house. One white man, pastor Dan Krahenbuhl, stands in the background.

Pastor Dan Krahenbuhl, center back, meets with leaders of the Latino congregation of Monroe Bible Church. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
A few blocks from the elementary school, at Monroe Bible Church, Dan Krahenbuhl’s title is senior pastor, but the Latino congregation call him El Pastor de los Latinos.

A leader of that congregation is Freddy Herrera, who came to Monroe from Veracruz 23 years ago. He works in a sausage factory, 12 hours a day four days a week, “But on Sundays, I serve the Lord,” he says.

Herrera and other local Latinos had been meeting regularly at the home of the man who now leads the Spanish service at the church. He worked at a dairy and rented a house from the dairy farm owner that was large enough for about 20 people to gather and pray in the living room. Two years ago, Herrera approached Krahenbuhl to ask if they could use the church’s building instead for worship. Initially, there was hesitation from one of the church’s senior members.

“The question was, how are we, as Christians, supposed to facilitate law breaking?” Krahenbuhl says, referring to how most of the Latinos in Green county are there without papers. He relates the Latinos in Monroe to foreigners who came into the land of the Israelites in the bible. “In the bible, everything says you treat them well, and take care of them. That’s what we’re doing,” he says. “It’s the government’s job to handle the laws and what to do about citizenship.”

Efren “Freddy” Herrera stands with his wife Susana, and children Freddy, 15, and Zoe, 8 at their home in Monroe, Wisconsin. Herrera immigrated from Mexico when he was 14.

Efren “Freddy” Herrera stands with his wife Susana, and children Freddy, 15, and Zoe, 8 at their home in Monroe, Wisconsin. Herrera immigrated from Mexico when he was 14. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
Krahenbuhl talks slowly, fingertips touching in front of his chest. He’s the kind of pastor who stays after leading back-to-back English-language services to stand and clap along with about 50 Latino church members for the Spanish-language service in the afternoon. He says the hour-straight of worship singing in the service is “neat”, though he can only make out a few words of it.

A young man walks in carrying an energy drink in one hand, a bible in the other. Two little boys repeatedly get shushed by their mom as they talk too loudly in English. Herrera, in a pastel pink shirt with his eyes shut, is pacing the stage, finger pointing to God.

“It was very hard to live here,” Herrera says of when he arrived in Monroe at age 14. “Most of the old people look at you. Call you illegal. Never heard someone speak Spanish. Never seen Latinos. A long time ago, they were afraid, they’re gonna rob us. It’s better now. They teach Spanish in the schools now. They know we are here to work on the farms and we’re hard workers.”

On Father’s Day, Herrera, his two kids, and his wife were packing up to move out of a rental into their first home. He says of Monroe: “I feel like it’s home.”

 

Kazeck

If it's All White it's All Right.
Old World Underground
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Yeah, of course white people don't apply.

As the fucking Mexigger said, 'We work 16 hours with no breaks, we never ask for one.' Yeah, okay Slave, I'm glad you're happy to be a slave but white men have Pride and Decency, we want enough money to have a house not share it with sixteen people, we demand basic human decency be shown to us by our employers too.

We used to be Christians, and even before that our Religions united us, and treated our people with a measure of decency and respect, you didn't work a man to the bone then expect him to be grateful for slave wages.

Edit: Yes some people did that, those people were also hated, often got killed or had their property burnt down, and had to have armed thugs to enforce their petty tyranny in the west lest a boy get a revolver and tell him just what he thinks about his labor policy.
 

W.W.H.D.

Member
If he expresses this sentiment at the watering hole with white locals, or in a county board meeting where he’s served as a representative for seven years, responses often turn quickly to the misconception that Latino farmworkers don’t pay taxes. “I remind them that it doesn’t matter what color anybody is, they are all on the same pay schedule. I think it enters into racial prejudice,” he says. “They don’t know so they assume.”

Pretty sickening how these cancerous farmers profiting off the destruction of their town judge the fellow Americans of the town who have to shoulder the actual burden including depressed wages and increased property tax. Then the media comes in and insinuates these farmers are not worthless traitors.
 

Blackbeard

Lord of the Gulf Stream
Old World Underground
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Immigrant workers make up approximately 40% of the workforce on Wisconsin dairy farms, and up to 90% are undocumented,
that means ILLEGAL, they are FELONS
In Mexico this company would be fined $100,000 PER DAY for EVERY illegal worker.
Solomon goes to Veracruz market and sends $1,500 to his wife and two children in Mexico every two weeks.
So this FUCKING SPIC can somehow afford to send THREE GRAND A MONTH out of the country and still has enough to live on. It's like magic. I guess it's becasue they are HARD WORKERS WITH STRONG FAMILY VALUES.
 

HairMoccasins

[Curse of the White Man from Town]
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“It boils down to they are willing to do the work,” he says, “They don’t have parents footing the bill for them. If they want housing or a car, they have to work. They show up, they need a paycheck.”
Thats the mindset of the average employer on display right there to justify hiring illegal immigrants. Remember that when your ancestors came here and were worked like slaves before all the supplemental assistance and advocates came along.
Vote with your dollars when possible.


“The question was, how are we, as Christians, supposed to facilitate law breaking?” Krahenbuhl says, referring to how most of the Latinos in Green county are there without papers. He relates the Latinos in Monroe to foreigners who came into the land of the Israelites in the bible. “In the bible, everything says you treat them well, and take care of them. That’s what we’re doing,” he says. “It’s the government’s job to handle the laws and what to do about citizenship.
Its been awhile since i read the whole bible but im sure there were parts in there that mentioned not to engage in sin or advocate for it or to demean your own at the expense of the invader in there somewhere.
 

Christopher

BLACK RIFLES MATTER
Old World Underground
🐸 Citizen of the Internet 🐸
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you want milk? they immigrants!

its the only way whitey!

without the diversity we face emminant collapse and yuge climate crisis. you want climate crisis? food shortages diseases? get on the train. drop you guns in the barrel.



Products spring out from the walls of Veracruz Mexican market in Monroe, Wisconsin: packets of cinnamon sticks, nuts, seeds, herbs, spices, tiny rainbow-colored sprinkles, chicle; a wall of healthcare like anxiety pills and vitamins for energy, and a shelf devoted entirely to various forms of muscle pain relief. A large meat case full of Mexican specialties, such as longaniza. Piñatas. Maíz. Jarritos. Chicharrones. And rosquillas, a treat in between a cracker and a cookie which is what newly arrived immigrants ask for most often, says Maribel Lobato. She and her husband Santos Tinoco have owned the store for 13 years in Monroe, a small city in Green county about 40 miles south of Madison.

The couple are often first contact for an increasing number of Latinos who immigrate to Monroe – which is 95% white – to work on dairy farms. “We can see the new faces because we know all the Latinos in Monroe,” says Lobato. She offers them donated furniture, clothes, a way to connect to home. An InterCambio Express telephone for sending money sits beneath an advertisement for a $19/hour job at a cheese factory, “but this place requires good papers”, customers in the store say in Spanish.



“I. Am. So. Busy,” says Lobato, who switches between speaking fast English and even faster Spanish.

When a family skidded off the road during their first winter in Monroe and the dad broke his arm in three places, Lobato took care of the kids. The store served as a Covid vaccination center. People bring traffic citations into the store they need help filling out; profiling is so common that after a certain number of tickets, many Latinos here just get a new car. Still, customers will risk the 40-minute drive from Beloit, a city in a neighboring county with a growing Latino population, to get the products they miss. About once a month, someone calls Lobato in the middle of the night to pick them up from the side of the road after their car is confiscated because they don’t have a license.

Across the street from the market, Latino men play pick up games of soccer at Twining Park on weekends. When Lobato and Tinoco arrived 20 years ago from Veracruz, Mexico to meet her brother who had found work on a dairy farm, visibility of Latino culture was rare. That will only continue to change.

Maribel Lobato stands among the aisles of Veracruz Mexican market in Monroe, Wisconsin, surrounded by aisles of Mexican food products and a bin of fresh produce.

Maribel Lobato owns Veracruz Mexican market in Monroe, Wisconsin, with her husband, Santos Tinoco.
Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
As the number of dairy farms in Wisconsin declines, the size of dairy farms is increasing; large farms with thousands of cows that require round-the-clock milking, and by extension, a larger workforce. The foreign-born population in Wisconsin has grown by 45% since 2000, with rural counties seeing largest and fastest growth of that population. Immigrant workers make up approximately 40% of the workforce on Wisconsin dairy farms, and up to 90% are undocumented, according to UMOS, a multi-state farmworker advocacy organization, and the largest Hispanic-managed non-profit organization in Wisconsin. The shift in the way of dairy farming is slowly shifting the demographics of America’s dairyland.

Green county has seen one of the state’s fastest growths in Latino population, increasing by an estimated 228% from 2000 to 2019, according to the Applied Population Lab at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Monroe is the largest city in Green county and has seen a steady increase of Latino immigrants over 20 years. With a population of only about 10,800, new people stand out, which has made the adjustment, like the farm work, incredibly difficult for some dairy workers.

Orange signs advertising job openings in English and Spanish hang on a clear partition at the Veracruz Mexican market.

Cheese factories advertise jobs near the cash register at Veracruz Mexican market.
But as the dairies grow, so will the new population. Work on dairy farms is year-round, not migratory, not seasonal, like on crop farms, which means employees are able to settle down. They build networks and lives. Día de los Muertos, and Las Posadas, a Mexican Christmas event, are celebrated not just in homes but out in the community, at the YMCA. White kindergartners now come home telling parents new Spanish words they learned, thanks to a language immersion program started two years ago in Monroe’s three elementary schools.

Where Americans get our milk is not a red barn, and the people doing the milking are not Mom and Pop, who happen to be white. Without the immigrant labor force on large farms, the nation’s dairy industry would be in crisis.

‘I sleep, eat, work … like bears’
Flies swarm through screenless front and back porch doors of the house where dairy worker Solomon , 38, who is undocumented, lives in Monroe. Inside, kitchen cabinet doors have fallen off, paint is peeling, and sheets serve as room dividers.

The house is hot and quiet. The five other men – all co-workers at the same dairy down the road – are either at work or dead asleep. The house’s owner is their boss at the dairy. The rent is taken directly out of Solomon’s checks.

“First, you’re afraid, they’re huge,” says Solomon, adding that cows in Mexico are “crazy” so it’s natural to be fearful. “Then you see other Latinos doing it and it’s like, OK, I can do it too,” he says through interpreter Natasha Morgan.



Maribel Lobato, owner of Veracruz Mexican market
Morgan, who is white, grew up in Monroe and four years ago married a Mexican man; together, they have two kids and one on the way. It was through her job at a local non-profit that offers 24-hour crisis support for women that she first came to know this house. She recently helped a female dairy worker who had been living here but had just been fired. The woman didn’t understand why she was let go, but understood the owner wanted her out of the house, too, immediately. Morgan drove her and her child to a temporary safe house.

Female dairy workers with children hope to share a home with another mother so they can tag-team childcare, Morgan says. Other times, they take their children to work. Morgan says she knew of a dairy worker whose child slept in a playpen through the mother’s night shifts. Anything to keep working.

“We don’t ask for breaks,” says Solomon. He works 16 hour shifts cleaning stalls and feeding cows after milking for the first six months as a dairy worker. Sitting across from him their dining room table is Giovanni, Solomon’s 18-year-old nephew who is shy with a sparse mustache and wears long sleeves and jeans, despite mid-day June stickiness. He just got to Monroe a month ago from Veracruz. He works as a milker – most immigrants work positions that are repetitive, require little training, and sidestep the language barrier such as milking or pushing, which means bringing cows down to the parlor.

Solomon, a dairy worker, stands in a milking parlor. On either side of him are rows of cows backed up to milking machines. Two workers are attaching the machines in the background.

Solomon works at a farm with 650 cows in Monroe, Wisconsin. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
Solomon goes to Veracruz market and sends $1,500 to his wife and two children in Mexico every two weeks. Some Sundays he will pick up a game of soccer at the park, but he is usually too tired. “I sleep, eat, work,” he says. “That’s what we came here to do, be like bears.”

Solomon’s friends who work at Pinnacle – a dairy that milks 5,000 cows and whose website advertises jobs in English and Spanish – say there is a constant turnover of workers. “You have to do every job fast, everything is fast,” he says. Does he want to work at Pinnacle? He shakes his head hard, no. “Too fast,” he says, snapping his fingers quickly to describe the pace.

Todd Tuls, owner of Pinnacle, says he would describe the pace there as “average” and that his staff were mostly Latino, with an “average or better than average” on turnover. He estimates more than 90% of his workforce is Latino.

‘They show up, they need a paycheck’
The 20-minute drive from Monroe to Brodhead, the county’s second most populated city with just over 3,000 people, seems to be just field after field of corn. The three biggest dairies in Green county are all in Brodhead -- Pinnacle started milking in 2018 and is the largest; second is California-transplant Spring Grove, which arrived in 2000. Jeff Williams can see it from the top of Williams Bedrock Bovine, the third-largest farm in the county, which he owns with his brother, Brad. They took the farm over from their father, starting with 48 cows in 1982 – a standard number at the time.

Bachata music blasts from a phone plugged into a speaker next to the milking parlor as dangling milking units clank against 24 metal stalls. A pusher and two milkers move mechanically, never looking up even as Jeff yells over the noise to check in with a shift manager named Lupe.

Jeff, a tall man with a chalk-white mustache, says that even in 2008 when they first expanded up to the 1,100 milking cows they milk today, it was hard to find anyone but Latinos willing to work on the farm; now, it’s been more than five years since a white person has even applied for a job there. Of the 24 employees who work on the farm, five are not Latino, including Jeff and Brad.

“It boils down to they are willing to do the work,” he says, “They don’t have parents footing the bill for them. If they want housing or a car, they have to work. They show up, they need a paycheck.” The majority of the Williams brothers’ Latino employees, including Lupe, have stayed with them for 12 years or more. Jeff suspects it’s because they “are never just pointing our finger for them to do something for us. We’re in our waders waist-deep in cow shit right next to them. We do monthly pizza parties, stuff like that. In the winter, we give them allowances to buy cold weather gear. We see them as humans and try to treat and pay them accordingly,” he says.

Pinnacle dairy is seen from a distance – long, low white buildings surrounded by a green field.

Large dairies like Pinnacle in Brodhead are increasingly common in Green county. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
His farm’s, any farm’s, survival requires a reliable workforce. With that in mind, he understands the need for immigration reform, a viewpoint that isn’t popular in Green county.

“How hard is it to give them some sort of legalization and work towards documentation or legal status? These guys all pay into social security and these guys will never see a dime of it,” he says, with his often unhinged bravado. “At least give them a goddang driver’s license.”

If he expresses this sentiment at the watering hole with white locals, or in a county board meeting where he’s served as a representative for seven years, responses often turn quickly to the misconception that Latino farmworkers don’t pay taxes. “I remind them that it doesn’t matter what color anybody is, they are all on the same pay schedule. I think it enters into racial prejudice,” he says. “They don’t know so they assume.”

‘It was very hard to live here at first’
When dairy workers come into Veracruz market, the smell is telling. But Santos Tinoco won’t send them away or ask them to take off their manure-caked boots. “I know where everyone works,” he says. “They just want to get a drink, some food, go home and relax.” They talk to him about their workdays. He says they tell him that at Pinnacle they barely have time to drink water on a 12-hour shift. (Pinnacle co-owner Todd Tuls refutes this, saying shifts are 12 hours but team members get multiple breaks for 15 and 30 minutes.)

Tinoco says his first name with a hard “A” like “sand”, the more American way. “Life is easier now than before,” he says. “I’m more comfortable now. People know me now. They give me respect for what I’ve done in this town, that’s the benefit of a small town.”



Sara Stone, an ESL teacher
Still, he remembers feeling disrespected recently when he applied for a business permit at the city hall. “Those secretaries answer me rude, they said, ‘You better forget about this,’” he says. “But it never gets me down.”

It’s harder for him to talk about how racism has impacted his and Lobato’s three sons, so she steps in to explain how alienating going to school in Monroe was for them. “One day he came home and asked me can we buy paint to paint his skin. I said it’s OK that we are brown. I told him paint would come off in the shower anyway, but when he went away, I cried,” she says of their oldest son. Their youngest son, Santos, Jr, the genial kid restocking Jarritos in the store, once shaved his eyebrows and all his arm hair off after being teased at school for not having blond body hair.

Dairy farmers Ron and Lori Wallenhorst on their generational farm in Cuba City, Wisconsin.
Small farms vanish every day in America’s dairyland: ‘There ain’t no future in dairy’
Read more

Sara Stone has been an ESL teacher in the Monroe school district for 18 years. At Taco Martinez, one of two Mexican restaurants in Monroe, a handwritten note above a bright orange InterCambio phone for sending money next to the register says, in Spanish, that anything over $1,000 requires a photo ID. The young woman working the register is Stone’s former student; so is the young woman’s brother, who is the cook. Stone will teach their little sister, who is sitting behind the counter watching TV on a phone, in the fall.

ESL means the students need extra support understanding English and don’t speak English at home; in Monroe, most ESL students are Latino. Enrollment for 2020-2021 at the Monroe school district – three elementary schools, one high school and one middle school; a total of 2,236 students – is 84% white, 12% Latino.

“I’m a bit of a bitch, a ballbuster, at work, because I’ve had to be. I’ll have teachers tell me, ‘Come get this Hispanic out of my classroom.’ Just because the last name is Martinez doesn’t mean he’s one of my kids,” she says, adding that out of about 80 teachers in the district, there are only two that are not white, and they are aides. “Sometimes I was disappointed by my colleagues.”

In 2018, she successfully advocated to the school board for a second ESL teacher at the elementary school because of Pinnacle’s pending arrival. How Pinnacle’s arrival would compound Monroe’s housing crisis was also a concern. “We just don’t have apartment buildings here,” she says.

Like Lobato, Stone never seems to be off the clock, driving around huddles of pastel-colored trailers and the area’s few apartment complexes for unofficial home visits. “This is how you read a report card, fill out medical forms, pay on your kid’s lunch account,” she says. “I did a lot of driving.”

A group of four Latino men and one woman congregate around a dining table in a house. One white man, pastor Dan Krahenbuhl, stands in the background.

Pastor Dan Krahenbuhl, center back, meets with leaders of the Latino congregation of Monroe Bible Church. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
A few blocks from the elementary school, at Monroe Bible Church, Dan Krahenbuhl’s title is senior pastor, but the Latino congregation call him El Pastor de los Latinos.

A leader of that congregation is Freddy Herrera, who came to Monroe from Veracruz 23 years ago. He works in a sausage factory, 12 hours a day four days a week, “But on Sundays, I serve the Lord,” he says.

Herrera and other local Latinos had been meeting regularly at the home of the man who now leads the Spanish service at the church. He worked at a dairy and rented a house from the dairy farm owner that was large enough for about 20 people to gather and pray in the living room. Two years ago, Herrera approached Krahenbuhl to ask if they could use the church’s building instead for worship. Initially, there was hesitation from one of the church’s senior members.

“The question was, how are we, as Christians, supposed to facilitate law breaking?” Krahenbuhl says, referring to how most of the Latinos in Green county are there without papers. He relates the Latinos in Monroe to foreigners who came into the land of the Israelites in the bible. “In the bible, everything says you treat them well, and take care of them. That’s what we’re doing,” he says. “It’s the government’s job to handle the laws and what to do about citizenship.”

Efren “Freddy” Herrera stands with his wife Susana, and children Freddy, 15, and Zoe, 8 at their home in Monroe, Wisconsin. Herrera immigrated from Mexico when he was 14.

Efren “Freddy” Herrera stands with his wife Susana, and children Freddy, 15, and Zoe, 8 at their home in Monroe, Wisconsin. Herrera immigrated from Mexico when he was 14. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
Krahenbuhl talks slowly, fingertips touching in front of his chest. He’s the kind of pastor who stays after leading back-to-back English-language services to stand and clap along with about 50 Latino church members for the Spanish-language service in the afternoon. He says the hour-straight of worship singing in the service is “neat”, though he can only make out a few words of it.

A young man walks in carrying an energy drink in one hand, a bible in the other. Two little boys repeatedly get shushed by their mom as they talk too loudly in English. Herrera, in a pastel pink shirt with his eyes shut, is pacing the stage, finger pointing to God.

“It was very hard to live here,” Herrera says of when he arrived in Monroe at age 14. “Most of the old people look at you. Call you illegal. Never heard someone speak Spanish. Never seen Latinos. A long time ago, they were afraid, they’re gonna rob us. It’s better now. They teach Spanish in the schools now. They know we are here to work on the farms and we’re hard workers.”

On Father’s Day, Herrera, his two kids, and his wife were packing up to move out of a rental into their first home. He says of Monroe: “I feel like it’s home.”

We get fresh cow's milk totally unpasteurized/non homogenized from a third generation owned & operated dairy farm. Ask your grandparents about how much better fresh milk with the cream on top was. Even just in a cup of coffee - let alone the difference in cooking/baking.
For the most part, we avoid 'factory-food' here. Haven't been into a McDonalds (another place crawling with non-whites) for years.
 

Jozef_Tiso

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If he expresses this sentiment at the watering hole with white locals, or in a county board meeting where he’s served as a representative for seven years, responses often turn quickly to the misconception that Latino farmworkers don’t pay taxes. “I remind them that it doesn’t matter what color anybody is, they are all on the same pay schedule. I think it enters into racial prejudice,” he says. “They don’t know so they assume.”

Pretty sickening how these cancerous farmers profiting off the destruction of their town judge the fellow Americans of the town who have to shoulder the actual burden including depressed wages and increased property tax. Then the media comes in and insinuates these farmers are not worthless traitors.
I remember listening to this podcast with @Azzmador discussing contractors in Texas. He mentioned the fact that these contractors are unwilling to pay young White guys a decent wage, but will pay Mexicans under the table. Then, they go to their church and are celebrated. Jews, White Women, and the Fortune 500 are enemies of Whites. Right after that, come the Ranchers/Farmers and Building Contractors.
 

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I thought farming was a noble profession? Doesn't seem that way, greedy bastards are happy to plant a dagger in their kins back to grub up more shekels. The plantation owners and their blacks, now these guys and their mexicans... then they virtue signal despite the fact that they want a disposable workforce of slave labor. The agricultural jew
 

Donk

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I don't even want to get started with this shit Newspeak article. It has it all: white replacement, race-mixing, globohomo, racism from whites, pity for browns, and the inevitability of the end of the white man...just let it go, quit struggling white man. Shhhhh. Just let it happen. It's like being civilizationally date raped into oblivion.

...OR we kick the immigrants all out, break up the farm monopolies, fire every dumb slut from her banking or HR job, and bring back the milk maid to give these skanks something useful to do.

 
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jackburton

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you want milk? they immigrants!

its the only way whitey!

without the diversity we face emminant collapse and yuge climate crisis. you want climate crisis? food shortages diseases? get on the train. drop you guns in the barrel.



Products spring out from the walls of Veracruz Mexican market in Monroe, Wisconsin: packets of cinnamon sticks, nuts, seeds, herbs, spices, tiny rainbow-colored sprinkles, chicle; a wall of healthcare like anxiety pills and vitamins for energy, and a shelf devoted entirely to various forms of muscle pain relief. A large meat case full of Mexican specialties, such as longaniza. Piñatas. Maíz. Jarritos. Chicharrones. And rosquillas, a treat in between a cracker and a cookie which is what newly arrived immigrants ask for most often, says Maribel Lobato. She and her husband Santos Tinoco have owned the store for 13 years in Monroe, a small city in Green county about 40 miles south of Madison.

The couple are often first contact for an increasing number of Latinos who immigrate to Monroe – which is 95% white – to work on dairy farms. “We can see the new faces because we know all the Latinos in Monroe,” says Lobato. She offers them donated furniture, clothes, a way to connect to home. An InterCambio Express telephone for sending money sits beneath an advertisement for a $19/hour job at a cheese factory, “but this place requires good papers”, customers in the store say in Spanish.



“I. Am. So. Busy,” says Lobato, who switches between speaking fast English and even faster Spanish.

When a family skidded off the road during their first winter in Monroe and the dad broke his arm in three places, Lobato took care of the kids. The store served as a Covid vaccination center. People bring traffic citations into the store they need help filling out; profiling is so common that after a certain number of tickets, many Latinos here just get a new car. Still, customers will risk the 40-minute drive from Beloit, a city in a neighboring county with a growing Latino population, to get the products they miss. About once a month, someone calls Lobato in the middle of the night to pick them up from the side of the road after their car is confiscated because they don’t have a license.

Across the street from the market, Latino men play pick up games of soccer at Twining Park on weekends. When Lobato and Tinoco arrived 20 years ago from Veracruz, Mexico to meet her brother who had found work on a dairy farm, visibility of Latino culture was rare. That will only continue to change.

Maribel Lobato stands among the aisles of Veracruz Mexican market in Monroe, Wisconsin, surrounded by aisles of Mexican food products and a bin of fresh produce.

Maribel Lobato owns Veracruz Mexican market in Monroe, Wisconsin, with her husband, Santos Tinoco.
Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
As the number of dairy farms in Wisconsin declines, the size of dairy farms is increasing; large farms with thousands of cows that require round-the-clock milking, and by extension, a larger workforce. The foreign-born population in Wisconsin has grown by 45% since 2000, with rural counties seeing largest and fastest growth of that population. Immigrant workers make up approximately 40% of the workforce on Wisconsin dairy farms, and up to 90% are undocumented, according to UMOS, a multi-state farmworker advocacy organization, and the largest Hispanic-managed non-profit organization in Wisconsin. The shift in the way of dairy farming is slowly shifting the demographics of America’s dairyland.

Green county has seen one of the state’s fastest growths in Latino population, increasing by an estimated 228% from 2000 to 2019, according to the Applied Population Lab at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Monroe is the largest city in Green county and has seen a steady increase of Latino immigrants over 20 years. With a population of only about 10,800, new people stand out, which has made the adjustment, like the farm work, incredibly difficult for some dairy workers.

Orange signs advertising job openings in English and Spanish hang on a clear partition at the Veracruz Mexican market.

Cheese factories advertise jobs near the cash register at Veracruz Mexican market.
But as the dairies grow, so will the new population. Work on dairy farms is year-round, not migratory, not seasonal, like on crop farms, which means employees are able to settle down. They build networks and lives. Día de los Muertos, and Las Posadas, a Mexican Christmas event, are celebrated not just in homes but out in the community, at the YMCA. White kindergartners now come home telling parents new Spanish words they learned, thanks to a language immersion program started two years ago in Monroe’s three elementary schools.

Where Americans get our milk is not a red barn, and the people doing the milking are not Mom and Pop, who happen to be white. Without the immigrant labor force on large farms, the nation’s dairy industry would be in crisis.

‘I sleep, eat, work … like bears’
Flies swarm through screenless front and back porch doors of the house where dairy worker Solomon , 38, who is undocumented, lives in Monroe. Inside, kitchen cabinet doors have fallen off, paint is peeling, and sheets serve as room dividers.

The house is hot and quiet. The five other men – all co-workers at the same dairy down the road – are either at work or dead asleep. The house’s owner is their boss at the dairy. The rent is taken directly out of Solomon’s checks.

“First, you’re afraid, they’re huge,” says Solomon, adding that cows in Mexico are “crazy” so it’s natural to be fearful. “Then you see other Latinos doing it and it’s like, OK, I can do it too,” he says through interpreter Natasha Morgan.



Maribel Lobato, owner of Veracruz Mexican market
Morgan, who is white, grew up in Monroe and four years ago married a Mexican man; together, they have two kids and one on the way. It was through her job at a local non-profit that offers 24-hour crisis support for women that she first came to know this house. She recently helped a female dairy worker who had been living here but had just been fired. The woman didn’t understand why she was let go, but understood the owner wanted her out of the house, too, immediately. Morgan drove her and her child to a temporary safe house.

Female dairy workers with children hope to share a home with another mother so they can tag-team childcare, Morgan says. Other times, they take their children to work. Morgan says she knew of a dairy worker whose child slept in a playpen through the mother’s night shifts. Anything to keep working.

“We don’t ask for breaks,” says Solomon. He works 16 hour shifts cleaning stalls and feeding cows after milking for the first six months as a dairy worker. Sitting across from him their dining room table is Giovanni, Solomon’s 18-year-old nephew who is shy with a sparse mustache and wears long sleeves and jeans, despite mid-day June stickiness. He just got to Monroe a month ago from Veracruz. He works as a milker – most immigrants work positions that are repetitive, require little training, and sidestep the language barrier such as milking or pushing, which means bringing cows down to the parlor.

Solomon, a dairy worker, stands in a milking parlor. On either side of him are rows of cows backed up to milking machines. Two workers are attaching the machines in the background.

Solomon works at a farm with 650 cows in Monroe, Wisconsin. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
Solomon goes to Veracruz market and sends $1,500 to his wife and two children in Mexico every two weeks. Some Sundays he will pick up a game of soccer at the park, but he is usually too tired. “I sleep, eat, work,” he says. “That’s what we came here to do, be like bears.”

Solomon’s friends who work at Pinnacle – a dairy that milks 5,000 cows and whose website advertises jobs in English and Spanish – say there is a constant turnover of workers. “You have to do every job fast, everything is fast,” he says. Does he want to work at Pinnacle? He shakes his head hard, no. “Too fast,” he says, snapping his fingers quickly to describe the pace.

Todd Tuls, owner of Pinnacle, says he would describe the pace there as “average” and that his staff were mostly Latino, with an “average or better than average” on turnover. He estimates more than 90% of his workforce is Latino.

‘They show up, they need a paycheck’
The 20-minute drive from Monroe to Brodhead, the county’s second most populated city with just over 3,000 people, seems to be just field after field of corn. The three biggest dairies in Green county are all in Brodhead -- Pinnacle started milking in 2018 and is the largest; second is California-transplant Spring Grove, which arrived in 2000. Jeff Williams can see it from the top of Williams Bedrock Bovine, the third-largest farm in the county, which he owns with his brother, Brad. They took the farm over from their father, starting with 48 cows in 1982 – a standard number at the time.

Bachata music blasts from a phone plugged into a speaker next to the milking parlor as dangling milking units clank against 24 metal stalls. A pusher and two milkers move mechanically, never looking up even as Jeff yells over the noise to check in with a shift manager named Lupe.

Jeff, a tall man with a chalk-white mustache, says that even in 2008 when they first expanded up to the 1,100 milking cows they milk today, it was hard to find anyone but Latinos willing to work on the farm; now, it’s been more than five years since a white person has even applied for a job there. Of the 24 employees who work on the farm, five are not Latino, including Jeff and Brad.

“It boils down to they are willing to do the work,” he says, “They don’t have parents footing the bill for them. If they want housing or a car, they have to work. They show up, they need a paycheck.” The majority of the Williams brothers’ Latino employees, including Lupe, have stayed with them for 12 years or more. Jeff suspects it’s because they “are never just pointing our finger for them to do something for us. We’re in our waders waist-deep in cow shit right next to them. We do monthly pizza parties, stuff like that. In the winter, we give them allowances to buy cold weather gear. We see them as humans and try to treat and pay them accordingly,” he says.

Pinnacle dairy is seen from a distance – long, low white buildings surrounded by a green field.

Large dairies like Pinnacle in Brodhead are increasingly common in Green county. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
His farm’s, any farm’s, survival requires a reliable workforce. With that in mind, he understands the need for immigration reform, a viewpoint that isn’t popular in Green county.

“How hard is it to give them some sort of legalization and work towards documentation or legal status? These guys all pay into social security and these guys will never see a dime of it,” he says, with his often unhinged bravado. “At least give them a goddang driver’s license.”

If he expresses this sentiment at the watering hole with white locals, or in a county board meeting where he’s served as a representative for seven years, responses often turn quickly to the misconception that Latino farmworkers don’t pay taxes. “I remind them that it doesn’t matter what color anybody is, they are all on the same pay schedule. I think it enters into racial prejudice,” he says. “They don’t know so they assume.”

‘It was very hard to live here at first’
When dairy workers come into Veracruz market, the smell is telling. But Santos Tinoco won’t send them away or ask them to take off their manure-caked boots. “I know where everyone works,” he says. “They just want to get a drink, some food, go home and relax.” They talk to him about their workdays. He says they tell him that at Pinnacle they barely have time to drink water on a 12-hour shift. (Pinnacle co-owner Todd Tuls refutes this, saying shifts are 12 hours but team members get multiple breaks for 15 and 30 minutes.)

Tinoco says his first name with a hard “A” like “sand”, the more American way. “Life is easier now than before,” he says. “I’m more comfortable now. People know me now. They give me respect for what I’ve done in this town, that’s the benefit of a small town.”



Sara Stone, an ESL teacher
Still, he remembers feeling disrespected recently when he applied for a business permit at the city hall. “Those secretaries answer me rude, they said, ‘You better forget about this,’” he says. “But it never gets me down.”

It’s harder for him to talk about how racism has impacted his and Lobato’s three sons, so she steps in to explain how alienating going to school in Monroe was for them. “One day he came home and asked me can we buy paint to paint his skin. I said it’s OK that we are brown. I told him paint would come off in the shower anyway, but when he went away, I cried,” she says of their oldest son. Their youngest son, Santos, Jr, the genial kid restocking Jarritos in the store, once shaved his eyebrows and all his arm hair off after being teased at school for not having blond body hair.

Dairy farmers Ron and Lori Wallenhorst on their generational farm in Cuba City, Wisconsin.
Small farms vanish every day in America’s dairyland: ‘There ain’t no future in dairy’
Read more

Sara Stone has been an ESL teacher in the Monroe school district for 18 years. At Taco Martinez, one of two Mexican restaurants in Monroe, a handwritten note above a bright orange InterCambio phone for sending money next to the register says, in Spanish, that anything over $1,000 requires a photo ID. The young woman working the register is Stone’s former student; so is the young woman’s brother, who is the cook. Stone will teach their little sister, who is sitting behind the counter watching TV on a phone, in the fall.

ESL means the students need extra support understanding English and don’t speak English at home; in Monroe, most ESL students are Latino. Enrollment for 2020-2021 at the Monroe school district – three elementary schools, one high school and one middle school; a total of 2,236 students – is 84% white, 12% Latino.

“I’m a bit of a bitch, a ballbuster, at work, because I’ve had to be. I’ll have teachers tell me, ‘Come get this Hispanic out of my classroom.’ Just because the last name is Martinez doesn’t mean he’s one of my kids,” she says, adding that out of about 80 teachers in the district, there are only two that are not white, and they are aides. “Sometimes I was disappointed by my colleagues.”

In 2018, she successfully advocated to the school board for a second ESL teacher at the elementary school because of Pinnacle’s pending arrival. How Pinnacle’s arrival would compound Monroe’s housing crisis was also a concern. “We just don’t have apartment buildings here,” she says.

Like Lobato, Stone never seems to be off the clock, driving around huddles of pastel-colored trailers and the area’s few apartment complexes for unofficial home visits. “This is how you read a report card, fill out medical forms, pay on your kid’s lunch account,” she says. “I did a lot of driving.”

A group of four Latino men and one woman congregate around a dining table in a house. One white man, pastor Dan Krahenbuhl, stands in the background.

Pastor Dan Krahenbuhl, center back, meets with leaders of the Latino congregation of Monroe Bible Church. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
A few blocks from the elementary school, at Monroe Bible Church, Dan Krahenbuhl’s title is senior pastor, but the Latino congregation call him El Pastor de los Latinos.

A leader of that congregation is Freddy Herrera, who came to Monroe from Veracruz 23 years ago. He works in a sausage factory, 12 hours a day four days a week, “But on Sundays, I serve the Lord,” he says.

Herrera and other local Latinos had been meeting regularly at the home of the man who now leads the Spanish service at the church. He worked at a dairy and rented a house from the dairy farm owner that was large enough for about 20 people to gather and pray in the living room. Two years ago, Herrera approached Krahenbuhl to ask if they could use the church’s building instead for worship. Initially, there was hesitation from one of the church’s senior members.

“The question was, how are we, as Christians, supposed to facilitate law breaking?” Krahenbuhl says, referring to how most of the Latinos in Green county are there without papers. He relates the Latinos in Monroe to foreigners who came into the land of the Israelites in the bible. “In the bible, everything says you treat them well, and take care of them. That’s what we’re doing,” he says. “It’s the government’s job to handle the laws and what to do about citizenship.”

Efren “Freddy” Herrera stands with his wife Susana, and children Freddy, 15, and Zoe, 8 at their home in Monroe, Wisconsin. Herrera immigrated from Mexico when he was 14.

Efren “Freddy” Herrera stands with his wife Susana, and children Freddy, 15, and Zoe, 8 at their home in Monroe, Wisconsin. Herrera immigrated from Mexico when he was 14. Photograph: Greg Kahn/The Guardian
Krahenbuhl talks slowly, fingertips touching in front of his chest. He’s the kind of pastor who stays after leading back-to-back English-language services to stand and clap along with about 50 Latino church members for the Spanish-language service in the afternoon. He says the hour-straight of worship singing in the service is “neat”, though he can only make out a few words of it.

A young man walks in carrying an energy drink in one hand, a bible in the other. Two little boys repeatedly get shushed by their mom as they talk too loudly in English. Herrera, in a pastel pink shirt with his eyes shut, is pacing the stage, finger pointing to God.

“It was very hard to live here,” Herrera says of when he arrived in Monroe at age 14. “Most of the old people look at you. Call you illegal. Never heard someone speak Spanish. Never seen Latinos. A long time ago, they were afraid, they’re gonna rob us. It’s better now. They teach Spanish in the schools now. They know we are here to work on the farms and we’re hard workers.”

On Father’s Day, Herrera, his two kids, and his wife were packing up to move out of a rental into their first home. He says of Monroe: “I feel like it’s home.”

Boycott Wisconsin. Duh.
 

JR_Rustler_III

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Some Sundays he will pick up a game of soccer at the park, but he is usually too tired. “I sleep, eat, work,” he says. “That’s what we came here to do, be like bears.”
Good thing we outlawed slavery, that's how I know this story isn't true
 

CryCzech

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I'm tired of hearing about how hard Mexicans work and that they'll work circles around you, etc. Bullshit!

Most of them do shitty work and you have to constantly supervise them. They do keep OSHA busy! They're constantly injuring themselves and others due to carelessness and stupidity. The only reason they're around is because of cheap labor and because someone can make a bigger profit, nothing else.
 

Jozef_Tiso

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If there is one thing the Catholic Church and the Evangelicals are both equally guilty of, it is advocating for endless Hispanic immigration. It also doesn't help when these "Kulak" type Whites who run ranches/farms endlessly discuss their "deep" religious faith. Maybe we should all worship Thor.
 

LittleGuinea

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I have no problem shipping labor in if it is truly needed (though we can obviously phase it out with tax incentives), but they should have to go back after 6 months on a work visa. They have six months to find an American citizen to marry and then they can joint the family, otherwise go home (and your kid you had while here). This is how it has always worked and there's nothing wrong with that system. We could all have little potato women pumping out half-breeds for us bros!
 

CallOfTheBlood

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In Mexico this company would be fined $100,000 PER DAY for EVERY illegal worker.
This is the Mexican border wall, that they paid for:

guatemala mexico wall.jpg
No, not the one between Mexico and the US but the one between Mexico and Guatemala.
 

V.I

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Well, there’s a grain of truth to it. In the low wage service sector, no White or Black men even apply unless they’re drunks that are looking for something between their next bender. Or college kids during Summer break.

Mexican immigration hurts blacks more than Whites. We lost building trade jobs to Mexican competition, but blacks lost everything except the DMV. Blacks are just too stupid to react politically.
 

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The one guest worker program that seemed to be successful, was one promoted by the former-East Germany. Vietnamese men were brought into the nation for six months. At the end of that six months--back to Vietnam. Here were the rules: no outside work fraternization, must live in company provided housing, must not be outside after 10pm, and absolutely no involvement with East German women. There were lots more, but you get the idea.
 

Kazeck

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Well, there’s a grain of truth to it. In the low wage service sector, no White or Black men even apply unless they’re drunks that are looking for something between their next bender. Or college kids during Summer break.

Mexican immigration hurts blacks more than Whites. We lost building trade jobs to Mexican competition, but blacks lost everything except the DMV. Blacks are just too stupid to react politically.
The thing is, corporations make obscene profit margins on everything from milk to produce, shafting both farmers and consequently farm-hands.

So a Whiteman just can't make enough money to justify the job, it'd be literally a better choice financially to work at walmart or mcdonalds as the Mexicans will work for below minimum wage and ridiculous overtime.
 

Christopher

BLACK RIFLES MATTER
Old World Underground
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If there is one thing the Catholic Church and the Evangelicals are both equally guilty of, it is advocating for endless Hispanic immigration. It also doesn't help when these "Kulak" type Whites who run ranches/farms endlessly discuss their "deep" religious faith. Maybe we should all worship Thor.
Actually, if people need something to worship that you can be 100% sure of, it's your ancestors. You can really learn a lot.

Mass religions are basically a business. That's why their angle is 100% in favor of nonwhite slave labor and white replacement. The bottom line is incoming shekels. Most of these churches should put up a mirror in front so the place can see itself as the deity. Once the money is grabbed, it's just scenery and entertainment.
 

GoodOlboY

In remembrance of American Martyr, Ashli Babbit.
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Thats the mindset of the average employer on display right there to justify hiring illegal immigrants.
I can understand where the normie is coming from. I have a friend that says things like this. He is concerned about keeping his business afloat, and the only help he can get is foreigners. It's not his fault wages are depressed. He does say things like, "It doesn't matter how much you offer, the White guys don't want to work."

I respond with, " I know you need help, but contributing to the problem isn't going to make anything better for you in the long run. You are literally disparaging the people who built this Country. That being said, it's obvious something else is terribly wrong to cause Americans to not want to work. I know you have a family to support, but keep in mind how your decisions play into the bigger picture."
 

tightywhitey

Can I put a gun rack on my bike?
Cave Beast
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an advertisement for a $19/hour job at a cheese factory,
you can’t tell me every single white high school dude in the area wouldn’t jump at this instead of college, I’m tempted and I’m over 30. Cost of living in rural Wisconsin can’t be that high

These guys all pay into social security and these guys will never see a dime of it
Yeah neither will I, dipshit
 

HairMoccasins

[Curse of the White Man from Town]
Old World Underground
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. It's not his fault wages are depressed
But it is actually, the owner is responsible for the wages he pays his employees.
He is also the one in charge of credentials required for the jobs he has available.


you offer, the White guys don't want to work
They have been telling white guys for atleast the last 30 years that you will die penniless in the gutter at best if they didnt go to college forever burying themselves in massive debt aquiring a bunch of pointless degrees to work in fields that never leave a desk.
The brain drain in the labor field shows by not having any real improvements or advancements made to it since then, other than lets just throw robots at it, so there will be no henry fords coming out of the migrant laborers filling these jobs. Just more of the same, garbage in garbage out.
These labor based companies also never said a word at the time when all this was happening, and gladly took the surplus illegal immigrants pouring in without any concerns about the future since they were happy with the new profits they were getting by having literal slaves they could strongarm into legal slavery, the boomers running these places sure were enjoying all this untill the slaves started getting advocates talking in their ears.
Now all this time later they are mumbling to themselves "boy i sure wish i could find some white guys to work for me now, too much liability having these moronic minorities working here that cant even speak their native languages", and unfortunately they cannot go back even if they wanted to thanks to the crippling debt they got for that desk job they were promised on the commercials.
So him not finding any white guys to slave for him isnt a surprise to me.
 

Donk

Net-gun Nationalist
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Escaped True Master
But it is actually, the owner is responsible for the wages he pays his employees.
He is also the one in charge of credentials required for the jobs he has available.




They have been telling white guys for atleast the last 30 years that you will die penniless in the gutter at best if they didnt go to college forever burying themselves in massive debt aquiring a bunch of pointless degrees to work in fields that never leave a desk.
The brain drain in the labor field shows by not having any real improvements or advancements made to it since then, other than lets just throw robots at it, so there will be no henry fords coming out of the migrant laborers filling these jobs. Just more of the same, garbage in garbage out.
These labor based companies also never said a word at the time when all this was happening, and gladly took the surplus illegal immigrants pouring in without any concerns about the future since they were happy with the new profits they were getting by having literal slaves they could strongarm into legal slavery, the boomers running these places sure were enjoying all this untill the slaves started getting advocates talking in their ears.
Now all this time later they are mumbling to themselves "boy i sure wish i could find some white guys to work for me now, too much liability having these moronic minorities working here that cant even speak their native languages", and unfortunately they cannot go back even if they wanted to thanks to the crippling debt they got for that desk job they were promised on the commercials.
So him not finding any white guys to slave for him isnt a surprise to me.
This post makes me want to start a company that simply makes machines that specificaly replace Mexican laborers, like the cotton gin did for blacks. Just one after another, come up with machines that do the jobs Mexican "guest workers" do, and do it better.
 
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