These past few weeks have been filled with uncertainty for those living in the Gulf Coast and the Southeast -- even more so as Maria bears down on the area. From Texas to Louisiana, Harvey turned communities upside down. Now Irma has done the same to Florida and Georgia communities. Some have already lost loved ones, many will be forced to rebuild, and too many to count have had their sense of home and community shattered.
Just like Harvey, Irma’s landfall has compounding impacts that put some of the state’s most vulnerable residents into an unimaginable situation. The Florida coasts and flood-prone areas are home to many who are particularly vulnerable in storms.
Florida is home to a large number of mobile homes, roughly 850,000 of them, and many were in the storm’s path. Only about one-third of Florida’s roughly 850,000 mobile homes were installed to current code, according to industry data -- meaning, just a fraction of mobile homes in Florida were strapped down with the kind of hardened braces meant to withstand fierce storms. They don’t usually have a permanent foundation either, which made them especially vulnerable to Irma’s strong winds. According to experts, more than a half-million homes were vulnerable to serious damage.
This was especially true in low-income areas, such as migrant worker and immigrant communities. Many of the older, more vulnerable trailers are rented by undocumented immigrants throughout South Florida's rural areas, including affected by Irma. Many of those residents didn't have the means to evacuate. Those who don't speak English might not receive the warnings and emergency information issued by authorities and rely instead on neighbors or work colleagues for information.
In the Immokalee area, a region highly populated by low-income farmworkers, a quarter of the housing units are mobile homes, according to the most recent Census housing estimates. Here, 44 percent of the area’s population lives below the poverty line, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Fear of proposed mass raids by ICE coupled with the rollback of DACA may have also contributed to many vulnerable residents avoiding shelter. Only 4,000 of the 24,000 or so residents were in shelters as of Saturday evening when the storm struck, according to the Naples Daily News. Immokalee saw up to 3 feet of water, with many vehicles submerged. At Farm Workers Village, at least 20 structures collapsed, according to early reports.
Immokalee isn’t an anomaly. Across South Florida many agricultural communities and other areas have a high percentage of mobile homes. They make up 28 percent of housing in Hendry County's LaBelle and 18 percent in Clewiston; and 32 percent in Martin County's Indiantown, according to census estimates.
Access to a car and a place to go wasn’t the only thing keeping immigrant communities from evacuating the storm’s path. Irma isn’t the only storm migrant worker and immigrant communities were forced to weather. With the threat of immigration raids and the fear of detention at evacuation shelters, they were also weathering a storm created by political malfeasance.
As Floridians lived in fear of losing their homes and possibly their lives to climate fueled Hurricane Irma, they were also living in fear of being forcibly removed from their homes and losing their livelihoods through the threat of deportation as they tried to escape the storm’s path. As evacuation orders came in, so did terrifying immigration news: a Polk County pledged to check criminal records of people seeking shelter, ICE planned immigration raids around the country for next week.
Irma, just like Harvey illustrated a dangerous pattern we must continue to address: discriminatory institutions, environmental injustices, and politicians have forced vulnerable communities to make impossible choices: evacuate and risk deportation, or stay and risk your life?
These latest extreme weather events are another unfortunate example that the immigration and environmental movements’ concerns are intertwined. The communities most threatened by Trump’s presidency -- immigrants, communities of color, women -- are the most vulnerable to toxic pollution and climate change. The struggles to protect our communities and our environment cannot be separated.