This article was originally published by the North Carolina Justice Center.
It takes more than 33 hours to travel the 1,600 miles from Durango, Mexico, to Johnston County, North Carolina. This year, that was the journey one farmworker made to a tobacco and sweet potato farm in Johnston County, where he is spending another season harvesting crops. For three decades, he has crossed the border on H-2A temporary visas, moving through fields across the United States. Thirty years of planting, picking, and pruning. Thirty years of labor, building two economies, yet with no retirement, no health benefits, and no promise that either country will truly take care of him.
On Tuesday, September 30th, 2025, a group of state officials joined farmworker advocates to visit him and other farmworkers at the housing camp in Johnston County. From the state capital, the drive was less than 40 minutes, yet it was easy to get lost along the unmarked gravel road. Concrete barracks lined the camp, bed sheets hung as curtains, windows wouldn’t close, and clothes were hanging on makeshift lines. Inside, there were four twin beds in each room, belongings in lockers and storage totes, and fans circulating air to keep mosquitoes away.
The contrast between these two journeys—thirty hours versus forty minutes down I-40—says everything. Farmworkers cross a border to sustain North Carolina’s economy. But our state leaders have yet to move forward in establishing real protections for them.
The Policy Landscape
North Carolina’s Migrant Housing Act was passed in 1989 and has been updated only once—in 2007 —to require beds with mattresses in “good repair.” Beyond that, there has been little meaningful change. Yet the state continues to rely heavily on migrant farmworkers, ranking sixth in the nation for this essential workforce. Each farmworker contributes, on average, more than $12,000 in economic value every year, but the housing standards meant to protect them remain stuck in another era. This legislative session, lawmakers introduced HB458, Improve Enforcement/Migrant Housing, a bill designed to close a loophole that allows growers with repeated violations to rebrand their operations and keep hiring H-2A workers despite unsafe conditions. But HB458 went nowhere. It stalled, while other bills designed to target and criminalize immigrants advanced through the legislature.
That political choice carries a human cost. Each year, farmworkers die preventable deaths, whether from heat stress, pesticide exposure, or unsafe housing. North Carolina’s outdated migrant housing standards don’t even guarantee the basics: air conditioning in triple-digit heat, heat in freezing winters, privacy in showers, or sanitary kitchens.
For advocates in the Farmworker Advocacy Network (FAN), the push doesn’t stop at HB 458. We know accountability means:
- Stronger inspections: throughout the season, not just at the start.
- Basic dignity in housing: privacy in bathrooms, locks on doors and windows, and kitchens with sufficient facilities for all.
- Protections from heat stress: guaranteed breaks, cool water, and ventilation.
- Pesticide safety: washing machines so clothes from the fields don’t carry chemicals back into living spaces.
- Emergency access: a working phone, posted information, and the right for workers to welcome visitors of their choice.
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Workers’ Voices
Workers spoke powerfully during the visit. They thanked the state officials and advocates for coming and seeing the conditions they endure. They asked them not to forget them.
“If these conditions are bad,” one worker said, “there are others who have it worse”. We contribute to two economies—the United States and Mexico. But neither country cares for us. We return with no retirement, no health benefits, nothing to show for all the years we have given,” another worker said.
Workers described the camps’ isolation. There is no reliable transportation, many health issues go unaddressed, and contact with the outside world is limited. The mental and emotional toll is heavy. They spoke of tobacco and other crops that leave rashes on their skin, pesticides that cause nausea and insomnia, and long days under the sun with little relief.
Employers too often see farmworkers as disposable rather than as investments worth protecting. Lawmakers, pressured by industry representatives, avoid strengthening protections, citing concerns that it might raise costs for businesses. But what about the cost to farmworkers? The result is a workforce essential to our food supply left living in conditions that wouldn’t be tolerated in our jails.
>>> Here’s what you need to know to travel to North Carolina with an H-2A visa for agricultural workers
Where We Go from Here
So, the question becomes: who takes care of farmworkers while they take care of us? The man from Durango has given 30 years of his life to this country, bending over crops in North Carolina’s fields. He, and thousands like him, deserve more than exhaustion and invisibility. They deserve safe housing, workplaces that value their labor, and laws that recognize their humanity.
North Carolina’s agricultural legacy is something to be proud of, but it has always rested on the backs of migrant workers. It is long past time for lawmakers to honor that reality. Passing bills like HB458 is just the first step. Real reform means updating the state’s Migrant Housing Act, fully enforcing it, and rejecting the false logic that worker protections are too expensive. The real cost is already being paid in lives, in health, and in dignity.
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