Migrants’ belongings, left behind in Eagle Pass, Texas, in March. Photographer: Christopher Lee/Bloomberg
One of the most difficult days of Stan Marek’s 55 years in construction came in 2012, when US Immigration and Customs Enforcement audited his workforce. Some of the Social Security numbers Marek had on file didn’t pass muster, suggesting that the employees weren’t authorized to work. Marek was forced to fire men who’d been with him for more than 20 years.
“They all had American-born kids. They all had houses,” says Marek, chief executive officer of Houston-based Marek Brothers Co. “They had realized the American dream.”
Marek fears he and his workers will be forced to relive the experience if Donald Trump follows through with the hard-line immigration policy he promised, in no uncertain terms, during his campaign. Trump has pledged to carry out workplace raids and mass deportations to counter what he’s called “the greatest invasion in history,” and he’s bringing back a staunch loyalist, former acting ICE director Thomas Homan, to serve as his border czar. The policies are framed as a tool to tip the scales back in American workers’ favor. But undocumented workers play a pivotal role in many industries across the country, perhaps nowhere more than in Texas’ construction industry.
Source: 2022 American Community Survey, compiled by IPUMS
Almost a quarter of the state’s construction workers are undocumented, according to the American Immigration Council. The presence of undocumented workers is broadly acknowledged by the industry, but it’s hard for employers to ascertain their workers’ status. Although Marek hires his own people and goes through all the legally required procedures, it’s possible some are using fake IDs, which are sold freely online and at flea markets. Other construction companies use subcontractors to insulate themselves from accountability, industry experts say. Marek’s workers slipped into that economy after the ICE audit. “ ‘Y’all do whatever you want to do and just don’t tell me’—that’s the attitude subconsciously,” he says of some other companies.
Construction is already struggling to find enough workers. Tightening the labor supply further could mean project delays and higher costs, which could exacerbate high rents and housing shortages in Texas, as elsewhere. “This is a state that has for the last several years grown very rapidly,” says Laura Collins, director of the Bush Institute-SMU Economic Growth Initiative. “We know we need people here to build.”
Construction workers framing a new home in Buda, Texas. Photographer: Matthew Busch/Bloomberg
Similar dynamics could be at work in agriculture, another industry that relies heavily on undocumented labor and could see widespread raids. The US government offers special visas allowing agricultural workers to enter the country for harvest season and then head home, but those are costly and complicated to obtain, particularly for small farms. Some immigration advocates also worry that, while workers on those visas wouldn’t necessarily be targeted, mass deportations could produce a chilling effect, dissuading seasonal workers from coming in legally.
All of that could mean higher grocery bills for Americans who cast their votes based on concerns about inflation. “If you don’t have those workers, some of your favorite fruit and vegetable items are going to be more expensive, or they’re just going to be really hard to find,” says Dante Galeazzi, president and CEO of the Texas International Produce Association. “Either way, it’s a travesty.”
Businesses are already strategizing about how to advocate for their workers. Chelsie Kramer, the Texas organizer for the nonprofit American Immigration Council, says companies in her state are striving to educate people about their options and the importance of acting quickly. Workers should apply for citizenship now if they can and renew work visas sooner rather than later, she says. “It’s a lot of just trying to mitigate harm.”
Some business leaders facing the prospect of worksite raids are conveying their concerns to lawmakers behind closed doors, according to Juan Carlos Cerda, Texas state director of the American Business Immigration Coalition. “That’s what the Trump campaign promised, and so to some degree the campaign has to deliver,” he says. But a mass deportation drive would itself be so expensive that Cerda and other experts say they believe Trump is unlikely to remove workers on the scale he’s described.
That hope doesn’t make the prospect any less terrifying for those at risk. From border states to the outer reaches of the country, migrants and refugees are fretting about what Trump’s immigration plans mean for them. Since arriving in New York City in September 2024, Kingsley, a Nigerian asylum-seeker who requested partial anonymity because of safety concerns, says he’s walked the streets looking for odd jobs. His options are limited until he becomes eligible for a work permit, but he keeps searching because he has a wife, a toddler and aging parents to support in Nigeria.
He worries now that his almost two-year quest to reach the US might have been for naught. Trump “wants the best for America,” Kingsley says. “But also I want him to understand that so many people that came through the border into the country didn’t just do that because they chose to leave their country. Many people do that because they are running away from something that is going to cost them their lives.”