ITHACA, NY (WENY) -- American immigration policy is entering a new era under the second Trump administration. On his first day back in the Oval Office, President Trump made his stance clear on what he calls an immigration crisis. 

During a speech in the Rotunda on Monday, Trump declared a national emergency at the southern border. 

“All illegal entry will immediately be halted, and we will begin the process of returning millions and millions of criminal aliens to the places from which they came,” he said. 

On Wednesday, immigration officers arrested at least 308 individuals living in the U.S. illegally, according to Border Czar Tom Homan. The operation was part of a targeted enforcement effort that Homan had anticipated after Trump was sworn in. 

“ICE is going to uphold the oath they took. They're going to enforce the laws enacted by Congress and signed by a president, and they're going to do that without apology,” Homan said. 

Opponents of Trump’s deportation plans argue that such measures could harm the U.S. food supply. As of 2022, the U.S. Department of Labor reported that 42 percent of agricultural workers were undocumented. 

Carlos Aguilera, owner of West Haven Farm in Ithaca, New York, is one of many in the farming community concerned about the implications of these policies. Aguilera, who has run his 10-acre certified organic farm since 2019, says that the idea of a mass deportation could dramatically affect the farming industry. 

“We are one of the very first certified organic farms in the Northeast. We've been certified since 1992, and it's a mixed vegetable operation,” he said. 

Aguilera’s personal journey from farmworker to farm owner adds a deeper layer to his concerns. Born into a farming family in Michoacán, Mexico, he explains that agriculture wasn’t just a business—it was a way of life. 

“Most immigrants from Central America or Mexico grew up this way,” he explained. “It’s in our DNA. It’s a way of sustaining ourselves.” 

His early life in Mexico was filled with curiosity and a drive to help his family, which was burdened with debt. Aguilera’s story took a pivotal turn when he was just 15 years old. He recalled feeling the pressure to support his family, especially when his mother was diagnosed with cancer. 

“I told my parents I was going to leave because I wanted to help them,” he said. “They had a lot of debt to maintain the farm, and we are a big family—eight siblings, six sisters and two brothers. That year, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, and I felt I needed to help.” 

At that young age, Aguilera and three friends made the decision to hire a smuggler and attempt to cross the Arizona border. 

“We were in Arizona for probably about a month, and then after that, they brought us up here to Pennsylvania. And then my father and a friend went and picked us up."

The journey was physically demanding, with long stretches of walking through the desert in cold temperatures. 

“I think it was very dangerous, from what things we saw, and, you know, a bunch of teenagers being on their own. But I remember I was just trying to get here. I [was] just trying to play being a grown up and help my parents.” 

From 2002 to 2008, Aguilera would find himself straddling two worlds—crossing back and forth across the border illegally. But as he grew older and more familiar with the systems at play, he found himself taking on leadership roles within his community. 

“What we did is that we went back and worked in vineyards and orchards,” adding “I learned English quickly, so I was able to understand some of the system and some of the culture behind it. I became a farm leader, helping others, especially the Latino workers from Michoacán, Oaxaca, and Guerrero who came here looking for work. A lot of farmers needed help but didn’t have the language skills or cultural understanding, so they turned to someone who could bridge that gap.” 

Aguilera’s work as a “farm labor contractor”—a term he finds somewhat misleading—helped connect farm owners with laborers in need of jobs. His experience in this role provided him with the skills to help others navigate the complexities of the American agricultural system. 

“Lorena and I, after she came here, decided that once we were both permanent residents, we had the privilege to ask ourselves, ‘What do we want to do with our lives?’ We dreamed of replicating what we had back home; having a small, diverse farm, with animals, fruits, and vegetables as a livelihood.” 

But the economic realities of farming in the U.S. presented major challenges. “Unfortunately, the economics don’t really work,” he said. “In the U.S., you’re punished if you produce anything in small amounts. Everything has to be done on a large scale for it to be profitable.” 

Keeping their dream at the forefront, Aguilera and his wife bought a piece of land in central New York and began building a barn, greenhouses, and a well for irrigation. They dreamed of building their home and growing their farm, but finances became a strain on their goal. 

“At the time, Lorena was pregnant with our second child, and we were very broke. We’d spent all our savings. We decided not to build a house because of all the bureaucracy involved—permits, costs, and so on. So, we sold the farm and I took a job in the dairy industry.” 

In the dairy industry, Aguilera encountered a different side of the agricultural system—an industry driven by exploitation. 

“One of the dirtiest secrets of the dairy industry in New York is that it’s the second largest producer of dairy in the country,” he said. “But the workers have so little freedom, if you can even call it freedom. The farmers provide housing, which sounds good, right? But they control everything—when the workers go grocery shopping, whether they can have visitors, and more. They keep them very well controlled.” 

He described grueling shifts where workers barely had time to sleep, yet on paper, it seemed like they weren’t working that many hours.

“You work from 6 p.m. milking cows, then you clock out, feed the babies, clock out again, then go back to milk, and so on. Many workers have no time to sleep.” 

Aguilera explained that while some farmers justify these conditions by claiming to provide transportation and housing at no cost, the reality is far different.

“They take you grocery shopping once every two or three weeks, so the workers end up eating poorly. This leads to all sorts of social problems like alcoholism and even prostitution. It’s a result of a system that strips workers of basic human dignity.” 

He strongly argues that the food production system in the U.S. is not only legal, but deeply unethical.

“You can make it legal, but it’s not ethical. It’s a lot more complicated than racism—it’s about exploitation and how the system is designed to keep people under control.” 

Aguilera’s own family story reflects the long, frustrating path many immigrants face when trying to navigate the U.S. immigration system. His father became a permanent resident during the 1986 amnesty under Ronald Reagan. However, after gaining legal status, Aguilera’s father had to wait many years to apply for residency for his wife and children

“He had to wait a bunch of years before he could apply for my mom and us as children."

The process, however, was long and complicated.

“The U.S. immigration system is so backed up with petitions, it took over 10 years for us to get through the process,” Aguilera recalled. “Some of my older siblings couldn’t even make it into the application, but I was lucky. I was still a minor when my father applied, and because of the Child Status Protection Act, I was able to benefit from that, even though I was over 21 by the time the application was processed.” 

But he calls himself one of the lucky ones. Aguilera was eventually granted residency in 2010, thanks to his own persistence.

“I knew about a little-known law that helped me. When I went to the consulate for my appointment, they had initially denied me, saying I was too old. But I showed them the law, and they accepted it. It was lucky, but it was also because I dug into the system and found the rules they weren’t telling people about.” 

As he reflected, he voiced something out loud. 

"I would have done it all over again, because my family is more important than some residency," adding "I was able to help my family, my mom was able to get treatment, and she's still alive today. So to me, that's more valuable than any residency."

Aguilera firmly believes that the key to resolving the immigration issue lies in recognizing the value of farmworkers and the food production system.

“We’ve created an immigration issue because, as a culture, we want cheap food. And the only people willing to do that work are marginalized groups, the undocumented. We have a moral responsibility in how we feed ourselves."

He argues that if we change how we value food production, we could also change the immigration issue.

“At some point, most people were farmers in this country. But over time, going to college and getting a degree became the trend—people valued becoming doctors, teachers, and professionals more. Farming has been devalued as a profession, but being a farmer requires just as much skill and expertise. A farmer is a professional in so many ways—they do accounting, plumbing, electrical work, mechanics, HR, and much more.” 

He believes that once farmers are given the dignity they deserve, the immigration issue would begin to resolve itself.

“We don’t have to focus on immigration problems. All we have to do is value the people who are here, support their role in society, and change the way we approach food production. If we do that, the immigration system will fix itself because people won’t feel the need to come here anymore.”