SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
Undocumented field workers in Georgia. Millions of workers without papers toil for long hours for low pay. (Photograph: David Goldman/AP)
Luis Zavala knew something had gone wrong when he saw the gun pointed at him.
The 45-year-old construction worker in Louisiana, and about two dozen others in his crew, had gathered in the small town of Kenner, on the outskirts of New Orleans, where he believed they were about to be given unpaid wages owed by their boss.
The move was set to bring an end to a bitter dispute, and their employer had told them to gather at a car park in front of an apartment complex. But instead of meeting him, they were surrounded by armed police and officers from Immigrations and Customs Enforcement.
Zavala, who was waiting in his car when the violent raid began, found himself dragged outside his vehicle, cuffed and laid out on the ground. "They came very aggressively, with their guns pointed. They threw me on the floor. They put their foot on my back. It was very terrifying," Zavala told the Guardian.
Zavala and his colleagues had just run up against a brutal truth that affects more than 11 million undocumented migrants who work in the shadowy low-wage depths of the American economy: speaking up against an employer who abuses you can get you arrested and deported.
Millions of workers like Zavala toil in industries like construction, casual day labour, agriculture or the food industry across America and, as Zavala and many others have found, standing up and complaining can result in an employer reporting them to the immigration authorities.
Read the full story at The Guardian.
Donald Trump’s attacks on democracy, justice, and a free press are escalating — putting everything we stand for at risk. We believe a better world is possible, but we can’t get there without your support. Common Dreams stands apart. We answer only to you — our readers, activists, and changemakers — not to billionaires or corporations. Our independence allows us to cover the vital stories that others won’t, spotlighting movements for peace, equality, and human rights. Right now, our work faces unprecedented challenges. Misinformation is spreading, journalists are under attack, and financial pressures are mounting. As a reader-supported, nonprofit newsroom, your support is crucial to keep this journalism alive. Whatever you can give — $10, $25, or $100 — helps us stay strong and responsive when the world needs us most. Together, we’ll continue to build the independent, courageous journalism our movement relies on. Thank you for being part of this community. |
Luis Zavala knew something had gone wrong when he saw the gun pointed at him.
The 45-year-old construction worker in Louisiana, and about two dozen others in his crew, had gathered in the small town of Kenner, on the outskirts of New Orleans, where he believed they were about to be given unpaid wages owed by their boss.
The move was set to bring an end to a bitter dispute, and their employer had told them to gather at a car park in front of an apartment complex. But instead of meeting him, they were surrounded by armed police and officers from Immigrations and Customs Enforcement.
Zavala, who was waiting in his car when the violent raid began, found himself dragged outside his vehicle, cuffed and laid out on the ground. "They came very aggressively, with their guns pointed. They threw me on the floor. They put their foot on my back. It was very terrifying," Zavala told the Guardian.
Zavala and his colleagues had just run up against a brutal truth that affects more than 11 million undocumented migrants who work in the shadowy low-wage depths of the American economy: speaking up against an employer who abuses you can get you arrested and deported.
Millions of workers like Zavala toil in industries like construction, casual day labour, agriculture or the food industry across America and, as Zavala and many others have found, standing up and complaining can result in an employer reporting them to the immigration authorities.
Read the full story at The Guardian.
Luis Zavala knew something had gone wrong when he saw the gun pointed at him.
The 45-year-old construction worker in Louisiana, and about two dozen others in his crew, had gathered in the small town of Kenner, on the outskirts of New Orleans, where he believed they were about to be given unpaid wages owed by their boss.
The move was set to bring an end to a bitter dispute, and their employer had told them to gather at a car park in front of an apartment complex. But instead of meeting him, they were surrounded by armed police and officers from Immigrations and Customs Enforcement.
Zavala, who was waiting in his car when the violent raid began, found himself dragged outside his vehicle, cuffed and laid out on the ground. "They came very aggressively, with their guns pointed. They threw me on the floor. They put their foot on my back. It was very terrifying," Zavala told the Guardian.
Zavala and his colleagues had just run up against a brutal truth that affects more than 11 million undocumented migrants who work in the shadowy low-wage depths of the American economy: speaking up against an employer who abuses you can get you arrested and deported.
Millions of workers like Zavala toil in industries like construction, casual day labour, agriculture or the food industry across America and, as Zavala and many others have found, standing up and complaining can result in an employer reporting them to the immigration authorities.
Read the full story at The Guardian.