Sandro Lopes and his 11-year-old daughter, Maria, ambled through their nine-acre property in David City, Nebraska, discussing the future of their family farm. A dilapidated white and red farmhouse sagged to the right of the driveway, and their newly repaired barn sat a couple of yards to the left. The two eventually came to a stop under a willow tree, one Maria said she imagines reading a book under, though she would rather be doing other things like practice presenting her ducks for 4-H shows.
“I’d rather be doing stuff on the farm than being inside all day,” she said, already walking back towards the farmhouse her family plans to restore over the next two years.
The farmhouse will take around two years and $60,000 to refurbish, and Lopes plans on doing most of the repairs himself. It will be one of the final parts of the family’s “Little Amazon,” a place to honor his Indigenous culture.
“That’s the American dream,” he said.
Since emigrating from Brazil in 2015, Lopes and his family have been searching for a place to build community and grow food. His business, NaTerra Regenerative Farms, is not just a food source; it is a legacy he nurtures by integrating Nebraskan and Indigenous agricultural practices.
“Farming is part of my life. It takes personality,” Lopes said. “Each farm is different because the farmer has their own background. I want to follow my own path, growing food and taking care of people.”
According to the National Center for Farmworker Health, of the approximately 2.9 million agricultural workers in the U.S., 78% are Latino and 70% were born in another country. Guarantees of work in American agriculture draw Latino non-citizens to the country under temporary work visas through initiatives like the H-2A Temporary Agricultural Worker program, which allows agricultural business owners to hire immigrants because of domestic labor shortages.
Nevertheless, Latino representation among farm producers — people who are involved in making decisions for a farm operation — is not as common. Lopes is one of about 83,000 Latino farm producers in the U.S. and one of approximately 700 Latino farm producers in Nebraska according to the USDA’s Agricultural Census. The number of Latino farm producers nationwide as well as within the Midwest has continued to grow over the past decades.
But, as Lopes found, when it comes to starting a farm or food business, many Latino immigrant farmers experience difficulty qualifying and applying for financial assistance.
Barriers to access
When Lopes founded NaTerra Farms in 2022, he applied for a grant through EQIP, a USDA program that provides aid to farmers and ranchers who integrate conservation into their practices. Lopes needed initial funding to rebuild and repair the acres of property in David City. His application was denied in 2023. A local USDA agent said NaTerra needed to have at least two years of production to be eligible for the grant.
“This is my first year,” Lopes said. “How are we going to start a business without any educational training, without any financial support? I wasted like seven, eight months for [them] to say ‘no.’ ”
Lopes said the USDA is not prepared to help beginner Latino farmers like him.
Studies by Latino researcher Eleazar Gonzalez back up this concern. Gonzalez said the lack of outreach and communication channels within local USDA agencies can prevent applicants like Lopes from applying for funding.
“We have a partner who is an immigrant and does not have very good English skills but he still wants to farm,” Gonzalez, a professor at Lincoln University Extension, said. “We are the resources for him. We are his voice. But they feel like they don’t see a solution right away and they get discouraged.”
Gonzalez’s recent polling of Latino farmers in Missouri found that many were not aware of the department’s services, like USDA business loan and grant programs. And, language barriers prevent primarily Spanish-speaking farmers from connecting to federal resources.
In response to lawsuits from Black farmers alleging racial discrimination – followed by additional suits from Latino, Indigenous and female farmers – the USDA launched a financial assistance program for previous grant and loan applicants “who experienced discrimination in farm lending programs.” The program launched in July 2023 and stopped accepting applications in January of this year.
Despite this USDA initiative, marginalized communities’ distrust of the federal department endures. Saul Lopez, interim executive director of Comunidad Maya based in Omaha, Nebraska, said the Maya immigrant farmers he works with – largely from Guatemala and Mexico – are generally distrustful of the government.
“First and foremost, there is a cultural barrier,” Lopez said. “We need to also understand that there is an educational capacity when it comes to having the knowledge and understanding of why access to this type of funding is important.”
Beyond the need for accessible, multilingual resources, Lopez also noted that the often traumatic process of arriving in the U.S. as an immigrant can prevent a potential applicant from seeking out aid, financial or otherwise.
“It is not easy to talk about grow[ing] your business when someone is just trying to recover after going through a very long immigration process,” Lopez said. “It is not the same to talk to someone who is not worried about that.”
In addition to offering financial assistance to minorities who have been discriminated against during previous application processes, the USDA also launched 12 regional food business centers across the country in 2023.The Heartland Regional Food Business Center, composed of 34 partner organizations from Nebraska, Kansas, Iowa, Missouri, Oklahoma and northwest Arkansas, will offer up to $50,000 in grants to Midwesterners wanting to start or grow food businesses.
While the launch of the business builder grant program could be an additional measure to restore marginalized communities’ trust in the USDA, immigrants without a social security card will not be eligible to apply.
Federal grant applications pose challenges for non-citizen farmers, especially those with limited English skills. A Unique Entity Identifier is required to receive grants. However, a social security number, which some Latino immigrant farmers lack, is the prerequisite for applying for a UEI. This often makes them ineligible for federal grants, depending on their residency status.
Lopes had the necessary documentation required to obtain a UEI, yet, he was unable to receive any funding from the USDA.
“They see the Latino as a worker, not a farmer,” Lopes said. “We’re invisible here. It’s not bad to be a worker, but I want people to recognize me as a farmer.”
Lina Traslaviña Stover, executive director of the Heartland Workers Center in Omaha, Nebraska, said Latino immigrants working in the agricultural and meatpacking industries often experience a drastic power imbalance in the workplace, particularly if their documentation is temporary.
“Every two years, they have to pay for a work permit because without the work permit, they’re not able to get a social security card,” Traslaviña Stover said. “As a result, how do you build roots, if you know that every two years [your status] is going to go away?”
For Lopes and others, the answer is, with tentative optimism.
Seeding solutions
When accessing federal aid becomes too difficult or impossible, funding from non-profit organizations can be a viable alternative for immigrant farmers.
Since its inception in 1973, the Center for Rural Affairs based in Lyons, Nebraska, has assisted rural communities across Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota and Minnesota. Local foods associate Kjersten Hyberger said the Center continues to make a concerted effort to aid underserved demographics, particularly Indigenous and Latino farmers.
“We are always designing all of our work and the grants we apply for to directly meet the needs of the communities in Nebraska,” Hyberger said.
Latino, Indigenous and immigrant farmers working with the Center expressed their difficulty accessing government loans, which prompted the non-profit to apply to become a community development financial institution (CDFI). This status allows the organization to give loans directly to farmers, regardless of citizenship status. As long as an applicant is a resident of Nebraska, they are eligible to apply.
The Center provided Lopes with technical assistance and business management training to hone NaTerra’s mission and help him develop a long term business plan. For the next year, Lopes will participate in the Center’s mentorship program, receiving guidance from a Nebraska farmer.
“[I] can learn how they [farm] here in Nebraska because it’s very different from South America,” Lopes said.
Practical Farmers of Iowa and its Agricultores Latinos program operate similarly. In 2020, the organization, based in Ames, began providing business training in Spanish after local farmers requested more Latino representation within Practical Farmers’ services. This was the beginning of Agricultores Latinos. Now, the program provides workshops and technical assistance in Spanish as well as access to loans and grants.
“There’s more flexibility with foundational grants versus federal and state, which I don’t think is talked about a lot,” Valeria Cano Camacho, the senior Latino engagement coordinator for Practical Farmers, said. “A lot of the federal and USDA [awards] are tied to getting more folks to either take out more loans or to use their programs.”
Practical Farmers’ foundational grants, like the Center for Rural Affairs’ loans, allow residents of any citizenship status to apply. Cano Camacho noted that these financial opportunities are specifically targeted toward both immigrant and Latino farmers in Iowa.
“To be transparent and create trust with the community, [we say], ‘First, we are not taking any of your information and sharing it with anyone,’” Cano Camacho said. “‘We know that that is a really valid fear, and we don’t want to pressure you, but we also don’t want you to feel like you can’t continue with this dream of own[ing] a farm.’”
Cano Camacho echoed concerns regarding the USDA’s history of discrimination. When Spanish-speaking farmers have to consult a local agency, she will offer to accompany them to appointments to ensure nothing is lost in translation.
With foundational grants from Practical Farmers, Lopes was able to repair and expand his farm’s facilities. He built a vegetable washing station for his produce, patched the roof of the barn and is raising livestock through the organization’s cost-share grazing program. NaTerra is home to five goats, around 90 chickens as well as ducks and quail.
Lopes is grateful for the financial support and training he has received from organizations like the Center for Rural Affairs and Practical Farmers. Still, he recognizes that many other Latino immigrant farmers remain unable to acquire funds to start their own farms.
While running the farm, Lopes teaches his children the value of “nhembojera,” a word from the Tupi language, which is spoken by the Indigenous peoples of Brazil Lopes and his family are descended from. “Nhembojera,” he says, means “to be willing to learn together.”
That is the legacy he wishes to leave.
Cover Photo: Sandro Lopes and his daughter Maria stand at the entrance to their farm in David City, Nebraska. Their shirts carry the name of their business, NaTerra. (Isa Luzarraga / The Midwest Newsroom)
This story comes from the Midwest Newsroom, an investigative journalism collaboration including IPR, KCUR 89.3, Nebraska Public Media News, St. Louis Public Radio and NPR.
Publisher’s Notes: Isa Luzarraga is working as a summer intern through a partnership between the Latino News Network and The Midwest Newsroom via the Hortencia Zavala Foundation.
