(Editor's Note: Thanks for taking time to check out this guest post from my farming friend Diana Prichard of Righteous Bacon. I've known Diana for many years now, and I've always been impressed by her dedication to farming and agriculture and her moral compass. I know I recently enjoyed Making a Murderer on Netflix and believe documentaries are one of the easiest ways to educate a lot of people in a little bit of time about complicated issues like the American judicial system or how we get our food. Immigration is not a pet cause of mine, but I fully support the part all immigrants play in the success of small businesses and small farms. Beyond dollars and cents, I personally believe America should open its arms to immigrants and refugees.)

From "The New Colossus," a sonnet by American poet Emma Lazarus, which is mounted on the base of the Statue of Liberty:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

I distinctly remember the first time it really hit me what was at stake in making a documentary about undocumented farmworkers. I had just finished filming and photographing the wedding of the couple featured in the documentary and was following the bride, groom and a caravan of their friends and family from the church to the reception location. I found myself wondering why in the world they were driving so slowly—just a mile per hour under the speed limit, but about ten miles too slow for my usual speed demon style. I knew where we were headed and planned to stop off on the way there anyway so I merged out into the passing lane and started to accelerate around the car carrying the bride and groom when it hit me like a ton of bricks: that even the slight risk of driving a few miles per hour over the speed limit was a distinct privilege. That they were driving “so slow” because, while if I got pulled over I’d have an unfortunate speeding fine to pay, if they got pulled over it could be the end of their lives as they know them. What would be a routine traffic stop for me could turn one of the happiest days of their lives into a living nightmare and tear their family thousands of miles apart from one another. 

It’s not that I’d gone into this project callously. We had many meetings and discussions before I ever began filming and I’d spent hours considering what security steps I would need to take in order to protect their identities until we were ready to reveal them. I knew in my mind, but that was the first time it really hit me in soul. Since then, there have been countless moments like that one. Fleeting seconds where I get just a glimpse of what it’s like to be productive, valued members of this American society, but also undocumented, and every single one is heart-wrenching. 

The story of immigration powering agriculture in the United States is long. In the 1920s Hispanic farmworkers were already migrating north to work in California’s green fields of lettuce and cabbage. Today, 77% of farmworkers in the U.S. are foreign born. Most of them are Hispanic, and most remain undocumented in the U.S. These people are economic contributors to our society and valued community members where they live and work, and they are at an ever-increasing risk of deportation—both now and as our next president is elected and takes office with immigration at the forefront of the national dialogue. The dairy industry alone estimates that loss of even half of Hispanic farmworkers in the sector would result in a 33% increase in milk prices. In the fruit and vegetable sectors we have already seen what immigration crackdowns do—when immigrant laborers have been run out of states like Georgia for fear of deportation under stricter laws the crops have rotted in the fields, because there is no one else willing to do the work. 

As the inflammatory rhetoric around immigration heats up this election cycle, I fear that some of our most vulnerable immigrants are getting lost in the noise. Through 'Farmworker,' a documentary and companion publication by the same name, I’m trying to change that, bring awareness to their contributions to our affordable food supply, give them a voice — too often they are portrayed as helpless in the media, but they’re capable people and deserve a spot at the table when we talk about immigration policy — and ultimately affect the national dialogue on immigration, cultivating an awareness of what we all have at stake if they are forced out. Farmworker isn’t just about farmers or even just about immigration; it’s about food, and if you eat, it’s about you. 

Beyond what I’ve learned about what it’s like to live undocumented in the U.S. these past few months, I’ve also learned what it takes to make a documentary. I’ve already spent thousands dollars and countless hours of my time—both of which I consider a good investment, because I believe deeply in the worthiness of this project—but neither of those things has brought me close enough to really doing these people justice so now, I’m crowd-funding. The truth is, I’m a farmer myself. We don’t employ immigrant workers. We don’t actually employ anyone outside our family, because our farm is tiny. But I’m still fairly well connected inside the ag industry. I probably could have gone to them for funding. This is a really important topic for farmers of all types and operations of all sizes. But I didn’t want to be tied to any industry for the message. I want to be able to tell it without bias and for our readers and viewers to know that what went into this is only heart, soul and hard work, no spin. That’s why I’m asking you for help. 

I need to raise $30,000

in 30 days

. It seems like an insurmountable feat, but I’m keeping the faith in the power of our online community strong. I know we can do great things; I’ve seen it happen before. 

Donate.

This

is

a crowd fund, and ultimately what I need to complete this project is money and I cannot express how much contributions of any size are appreciated. Backing this project financially—whether with $10, $100 or $1000 dollars—helps us do justice for people who are literally risking their lives to have a voice in a country where every citizen should already have one. And this crowd fund is all or nothing, which means if we don’t meet our $30,000 goal, we don’t get any of the pledges. Which brings me to the next item.

Spread the word.

 If 3,000 people give $10, we meet our goal. That seems like a lot of people, but if we put our networks together, it’s probably just a small fraction of the people we know. But we have to reach out to many, many times than number to get enough donations first. If you have a social media account on any platform, please consider telling your followers about this. And if you know family, friends or other contacts who might care about this issue, too, please consider reaching out to them directly to encourage them to back this project, too. Emails always reach people and encourage action better than Facebook posts and tweets, but I’m not picky. I’ll take both. 

EMBED CODE FOR VIDEO:

Farmworker: How Immigration Feeds America from Diana Prichard on Vimeo.

LINK TO CAMPAIGN: bit.ly/farmworker