How North Carolina fails its farmworkers

One year ago this September, José Arturo González Mendoza, 30, was headed to work in Nash County, picking sweet potatoes for Barnes Farming.

It was 91 degrees outside: extreme heat conditions. José’s brother, who was working in an adjoining field, told WFAE, “He was harvesting sweet potatoes. He warned that he wasn’t feeling well, but they didn’t pay attention.”

When José collapsed, Barnes management failed to call 911 or provide first aid treatment, according to North Carolina Department of Labor citations issued in March.

Another worker eventually called 911. But González Mendoza was dead by the time the ambulance arrived.

González Mendoza had arrived in the U.S. from Guanajuato, Mexico just 11 days prior, on an H-2A visa, a seasonal work permit. Now he’s gone — and his young children will grow up without their father and sole provider. His death will have devastating impacts for generations to come.

The culpability lies not just with Barnes Farming itself, but with an entire political system that treats migrant workers as disposable — failing to enforce the simple workplace regulations and labor protections that might have saved González Mendoza’s life.

In fact, Johnny Barnes, the president of Barnes Farming, is married to Nash County state Sen. Lisa Barnes, who cites her “roots in agriculture” on her campaign website. Senator Barnes and her family business have faced no real consequences yet — financial, political or otherwise.

Barnes Farming appealed the $187,509 fine it received from the Department of Labor. The case is still in litigation today.

Johnny Barnes told the Spring Hope Enterprise, “We have had thousands of workers come through this farm throughout the years, and it’s the first one we’ve ever had to die in the field. … It’s just terrible timing for everybody. We are very distraught about his death.”

Barnes also told the newspaper he believed the fines levied on the business would be dismissed.

An attorney representing Barnes Farming, Marie T. Scott of Fisher & Phillips LLP, said in an emailed statement: “The North Carolina Department of Labor completed its investigation and issued citations, which remain merely allegations, and which Barnes is contesting.” The statement also says the farm “continues to be a leader in ensuring the safety and health of its team members.”

How can we expect our legislators to prevent exploitation when they hold the power to regulate their family businesses?

This isn’t just a rhetorical question. It carries real consequences for the González Mendoza family — and thousands of H-2A visa recipients across the state. North Carolina is home to the fifth-most H2-A workers in the country, nearly 15,000 migrants who labor in the agricultural sector with few protections.

Because their employers are the sole source of their legal status, a culture of fear permeates the H2-A program, leaving migrant workers vulnerable to abuse, exploitation and underpayment, a system explored in an investigation by the Carolina Public Press. Inexplicably, despite these deadly flaws, the state is trying to expand this program without alterations.

I’ve seen this firsthand in my own work as executive director of Casa Azul de Wilson, where in addition to educational equity and civic engagement programs, we provide financial support to farmworkers across the state. That’s how I first met Gustavo González Mendoza, José Arturo’s brother. He is one of tens of thousands of essential workers who show up every day, including through the most dangerous days of the pandemic, to feed our country.

After José Arturo’s death, we reached back out to Gustavo, only to realize that his family had received little support in the aftermath of this tragic loss. Casa Azul started a GoFundMe campaign, raising around $11,000 to support the family. Donations rolled in from friends and neighbors, even from families in our community that I know were stretched thin.

I’m proud of the support we were able to provide. It’s a reminder that we have to keep showing up, spreading small ripples of change — across our community and beyond. But it’s nowhere remotely close to justice for the González Mendoza family. True justice would be a living brother, father and husband at home and safe from a preventable death.

We can’t turn back the clock and bring him back. But we can help prevent the next extreme heat death with common-sense solutions in North Carolina, including breaks every three hours, all-day, easy access and provided cups for cold drinking water and an emergency protocol for health emergencies.

States like California, Minnesota and Oregon have passed explicit heat illness prevention laws that mandate breaks in large, shaded areas; cool drinking water; emergency response procedures and more. Our neighbor, Tennessee, legally requires a 30-minute break for a six-hour shift.

The stakes are literally life and death.

I want the state legislators to know they can’t sweep this under the rug. We are watching. They can’t feign ignorance or shut their ears to our cries for justice. We are here, and we are not going anywhere.

Flor Herrera-Picasso , co-founder and executive director of Casa Azul de Wilson, is a first-generation Mexican-American dedicated to fostering education equity and cultural inclusion in rural North Carolina. This column is syndicated by Beacon Media. Contact info@beaconmedianc.org with feedback or questions.

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