AP STORY: Adoptee U.S. citizenship

Gosia Wozniacka AP PHOTOS, AP STORIES

I learned about Adam and his story from a source in the Korean-American community. Interviewing Adam took six hours and was emotionally wrenching. He is an intelligent, eloquent man who has faced big hurdles in his life. He’s also screwed up some. He has many emotional wounds, but he’s also trying to make amends and reimagine his future. Adam’s story opened to me a world I knew little about: that of adoptees, the often-questionable history of out-of-country adoptions, and the immigration laws that left adoptees behind. I easily could have written a great magazine piece about these issues and the stories of Adam and others like him… AP’s 800-word format didn’t do this story justice. But here is the short version, in PDF: AP-Adoptees Citizenship. 

I was, by the way, the first reporter to break this story. After that, Adam became a media sensation. 

In this photo taken on Thursday, March 19, 2015, Korean adoptee Adam Crapser poses with his daughters, 1-year-old Christal and 5-year-old Christina, and his wife Anh Nguyen in the family's living room in Vancouver, Wash. Crapser, whose adoptive parents neglected to make him a U.S. citizen, will face an immigration judge in April and could be separated from his family and deported to South Korea, a country he does not know. (AP Photo/Gosia Wozniacka)

In this photo taken on Thursday, March 19, 2015, Korean adoptee Adam Crapser poses with his daughters, 1-year-old Christal and 5-year-old Christina, and his wife Anh Nguyen in the family’s living room in Vancouver, Wash. Crapser, whose adoptive parents neglected to make him a U.S. citizen, will face an immigration judge in April and could be separated from his family and deported to South Korea, a country he does not know. (AP Photo/Gosia Wozniacka)

(AP Photo/Gosia Wozniacka)

(AP Photo/Gosia Wozniacka)

Flooded villages

Gosia Wozniacka AP PHOTOS, AP STORIES

This is one of my favorite stories that I’ve written and photographed at the AP. I worked with AP’s features editor and features photo editor to bring it together. To me, it’s an essential tale of the Pacific Northwest – a story about this region’s history and its making, the area’s principal characteristics (the river, salmon, dams, and hydropower), and the legacy of bad decisions, discrimination, and utter disregard for the suffering of a people. It is also a love story, about the devotion to a river, to a waning way of life, to the right to belong. It’s the story of Native Americans today, who are living along the Columbia River in Oregon and Washington in Third World conditions, across from power-generating dams. A few decades ago, those dams flooded Indian villages and fishing sites, leaving families without a home for generations. Read the story here, or in PDF: AP-Flooded Villages

This photo taken on August 22, 2014 at Lone Pine, a Native American fishing site on the Columbia River near The Dalles, shows the home of Ranetta Spino and her family at the river’s edge. Lone Pine is one of 31 fishing sites developed as a replacement for tribal fishing grounds flooded or destroyed by hydroelectric dams. About 40 people, including children, permanently live at the fishing site in substandard conditions. (AP/Gosia Wozniacka)

This photo taken on August 22, 2014 at Lone Pine, a Native American fishing site on the Columbia River near The Dalles, shows the home of Ranetta Spino and her family at the river’s edge. Lone Pine is one of 31 fishing sites developed as a replacement for tribal fishing grounds flooded by hydroelectric dams. About 40 people, including children, permanently live at the fishing site in substandard conditions. (AP/Gosia Wozniacka)

Flooded Villages-Tribes

Flooded Villages-Tribes

In this photo taken on October 20, 2014 on the Klickitat River, a tributary of the Columbia River near Lyle, Washington, a Native American fisherman catches fish on a platform. Platform fishing is one of the most common Native American fishing techniques on the rivers in the Columbia Basin. For millennia, Indians have fished and lived along the ColumbiaÕs shores, the salmon central to their culture and religion, sustenance and trade. (AP/Gosia Wozniacka)

Flooded Villages-Tribes

Flooded Villages-Tribes

Flooded Villages-Tribes

Flooded Villages-Tribes

Photo assignment: Harvest

Gosia Wozniacka Uncategorized

 

Edible MarinIn August, I photographed the peach harvest at the Masumoto Family Farm, an 80-acre organic farm south of Fresno in California’s San Joaquin Valley. It’s not just any old peach harvest. The Masumotos run an adopt-a-tree program and they allow teams of friends and relatives to harvest their adopted trees every summer. These photos were printed in Edible Marin’s Fall 2014 issue. Here are a couple of the spreads.

MasumotoEdible1

MasumotoEdible2

MasumotoEdible3

AP STORY: Labor shortages, a new reality in agriculture?

Gosia Wozniacka AP STORIES

I’m usually a big skeptic when it comes to labor shortages in agriculture. I put on my reporter hat and ask: are these shortages real, or are they just slogans used by the agriculture industry to advance an agenda? I say this, because for years – for decades – the U.S. had been awash in farmworkers streaming in from Mexico. Labor was plentiful as the unauthorized immigrant population ballooned… and yet, employers still complained of shortages. Sure, changes in crop patterns, stringent immigration laws in some states, or drastic weather changes might shift harvests and lead to a temporary need for more workers. But overall, farm labor has been plentiful for a long time.

This slowly changed in recent years. The recession in the U.S., an improved economy in Mexico, changes on the border and other factors contributed to the shrinking of mass migration from Mexico. Though the unauthorized population has now stabilized, mass migration of years past hasn’t resumed. And so, labor shortages.

There’s one way to tell whether shortages are real: and that’s to look at the wages of farmworkers. Last year, and even more dramatically this year, the wages and working conditions of workers have actually improved. Based on my conversations with workers, contractors, and farmers, labor is very tight. To be clear: crops are not rotting in the fields and consumers won’t see huge price increases. But for the first time, working in the fields means getting a better wage. As Fresno-area labor contractor Jesus Mateo put it: “For the first time, I can demand a living wage for my workers.” He also said, “Before, people were begging for work and some employers skimped workers on wages. Now the roles have reversed, with growers asking workers to come. And if the grower doesn’t want to pay, people will walk off his field.” Read my story here: AP-Labor Shortages

Reflections. Summer evening

Gosia Wozniacka Reflections

Walk. When the sun’s strength dims and shadows start to fall on homes and sidewalks. Walk down, straight down your street, your broken sidewalk, turn without thinking, Van Ness, Elizabeth, Fulton, Dudley. Walk. Past overgrown alleyways, past nopale bushes with tiny red fruit that cut your hands when you tried to steal them (someone once said, ‘be brave when picking cactus’), past children riding beat up bikes, skinny stray cats of every color, boys playing basketball inside a locked schoolhouse yard. A crumpled dollar bill to the street vendor, corn on the cob con mayonesa, queso y chile. Walk. Watch old men watering yellowed lawns as if nothing else awaited them, cholos in wifebeaters smoking on front stoops, women pushing strollers bulging with grocery bags and no children… Pit bulls bored, straining behind chain link fences, a bum with long unwashed hair swaying, absent. And always, a man or woman hidden in the bushes of a side porch, completely alone, suddenly emerging to greet you. Someone down the street singing. Walk, under trees flowering pink and white, sculptures of frayed palm leaves. The air stifling still, pressed against your skin like a warm bath. Walk until night envelops you, hints of wind brushing past the eyes of lit windows, crickets keen on their song. Listen to the train cutting diagonal across the neighborhood, its shrill call, its swish and lulling – walk, until you can walk no more, paused by the endless train tracks.

AP STORY: America at the Tipping Point

Gosia Wozniacka AP PHOTOS, AP STORIES, photos

After living for some time in Central California, America’s top farming region – where more than 250 different fruits and vegetables are grown! – you can’t help but notice the disparities and imbalance.

On one side, the farmworkers, who often earn wages well below the poverty line – because farm labor is a seasonal occupation and because it pays little. Many (if not most) of the workers can’t get unemployment insurance due to lack of legal immigration status. As seasonal workers, they have no benefits, no health insurance or paid days off. 

On the other side, the farmers, whose revenues have been growing steadily in the past few years – despite the recession and despite the drought. That’s right. As agriculture officials have often said, agriculture is one of the bright spots in our sagging economy. Alas, this bounty does not trickle down to the workers. 

I wanted to drill down on this division in a more in-depth story. For half a year, I followed one farmworker family in Fresno County, the nation’s richest agricultural county. I visited them as they worked, lost jobs, struggled with health problems and with their children. I participated in family celebrations. My goal was to paint a picture of the divide at the heart of an agricultural region, a duality that has real impacts on the workers at the bottom.

Of course, farming can be a low-profit margin business. The costs of farming keep growing. Labor is a significant expense. And American consumers demand inexpensive food. Competitors in other countries pay workers even less, meaning their products are cheaper. American farmers don’t set food prices. In many ways, farmworkers’ poverty is ingrained in the very nature of agriculture – and has been so for centuries. For some farmworkers, most of whom are immigrants to this country, working in the fields can be a springboard to a better life. But for too many, it is a permanent, punishing situation – one which they pass on to their children.

We must continue to ask: Is this situation intractable? How can we improve the lives of farmworkers and those their children? What are the impacts of depression, isolation, of being worn down by circumstances? What role can education play?  And, how much do we, as a society, owe to them? Lastly, what is the impact of leaving so many Latinos, one of the largest and fastest growing ethnic groups, in destitution – especially considering that Latinos will make up the vast majority of our future labor force? 

Read “In nation’s breadbasket, Latinos stuck in poverty”. This story is part of an Associated Press series called ‘America at the Tipping Point: The Changing Face of a Nation.’

(AP Photos/Gosia Wozniacka)

(AP Photos/Gosia Wozniacka)

AP STORY, AP PHOTOS: The farmworkers of 1986

Gosia Wozniacka AP PHOTOS

With the battle over the bipartisan “gang of eight” immigration bill heating up, I took a look at what the bill might do for farmworkers. While it’s hard to predict how workers will behave if given a path to citizenship faster than the rest of the undocumented population – but recent history offers a few interesting lessons. Just like the current legislation, the previous amnesty program of 1986 offered a special provision for legalizing farmworkers. What happened? Read my story.

Here are some of the farmworkers who legalized their status after 1986: 

In this photo taken on May 22, 2012, Paulino Mejia and his wife Julia Cervantes stand in front of their Madera, Calif. home. Mejia, a former farmworker, was able to buy the home after gaining legal status through the 1986 Amnesty program. (AP/Gosia Wozniacka)

In this photo taken on May 22, 2012, former farmworker Paulino Mejia poses in front of his Madera, Calif. home. After gaining legal status through the 1986 amnesty program, Mejia left agriculture for a well-paid construction job, sent his daughters to college, and bought a house in California instead of sending money to Mexico. Experts say the best indicator of how an immigration overhaul would play out for farmworkers is to look at the fate of the generation legalized over two decades ago.(AP/Gosia Wozniacka)

In this photo taken On May 16, 2013 in Delano, Calif., community worker Fausto Sanchez sits at his desk at the California Rural Legal Assistance office where he works. After legalizing his immigration status in the 1986 amnesty program, Sanchez left agriculture, got a high school and then a college degree and a job as a professional. (AP/Gosia Wozniacka)

Former farmworker Fausto Sanchez poses for a photo on May 16, 2013 in front of the Delano, Calif. office where he now works.After legalizing his immigration status in the 1986 amnesty program, Sanchez left agriculture, went to college, and got a job at a California nonprofit. (AP/Gosia Wozniacka)

VIDEO: Welcome to China Alley

Gosia Wozniacka Uncategorized

Here’s the short film about China Alley in Hanford, Calif. that I shot and produced with my colleague Jes Therkelsen and his two students, Tou Yang and Matthew Vincent. The film was made for the International Documentary Challenge. As part of this competition, crews from around the world are given five (5!) days to shoot, edit and upload a short non-fiction film. It’s pretty intense.

China Alley traces its roots to 1877 when the Central Pacific railroad was extended westward to central California. Numerous Chinese came to the area at that time, initially to help build the railroads and later to farm the vast fields surrounding Hanford. Since then, China Alley has endured, essentially unchanged – but in bad need of renewal. This is the story of one family who has taken care of China Alley for generations. 

PHOTOS: Dance of the devils

Gosia Wozniacka Uncategorized

The residents of Campo Nebraska on the outskirts of Fresno in California’s Central Valley live in shabby houses, in near complete isolation. The migrant camp, hemmed in front all sides by vineyards and fields, is owned by a Mexican mayordomo and houses immigrants from the village San Miguel Cuevas, Oaxaca. They are indigenous people, most of them Mixtecos who speak a pre-Hispanic language and little Spanish and cross into the U.S. from one of the poorest regions in Mexico. According to tradition, every pueblo holds an annual party for the village saint. Since crossing the border back and forth is difficult these days, this year the mayordomo organized the party for the camp’s residents in California. The highlight of these parties, other than the hand-made tortillas and the beef, is the dance presentation. This year, I photographed my favorite dance: la danza de los diablos.