A mother and her child get free food from a farmers market event put on by nonprofit Latinos Unidos Y Floreciendo event in Woodland, Wash., on Feb. 24, 2026. In recent months, the people the nonprofit serves have become more fearful of leaving their home as President Donald Trump's immigration crackdown has ramped up.
Saskia Hatvany / OPB
Colorful produce fills black plastic crates in the common room of a housing complex in Woodland, Washington. People buzz about, picking out the best dark green poblano chilis, thick bunches of cilantro and bright red Roma tomatoes.
Maria Calderon stands next to a table of pink, yellow and brown Mexican pastries — or pan dulce — laid out near the door. She holds several bags filled with vegetables which she plans to use for molcajete salsa and toppings for sopes, fried cakes made from masa corn flour.
Many Latino immigrants in the Woodland area work in agriculture, she says, especially in seafood processing and on Christmas tree farms. None of her family members have been deported, but she knows others who have been. Simple tasks like getting healthy food have become more difficult for local immigrants who are afraid to leave their homes, she says.
“I’m experiencing the same thing, but we have to go out for our children,” Calderon says. “They have to eat. We have to go out to work.”
Food distributions like this by Latinos Unidos y Floreciendo started in 2024 in parts of Woodland and Kelso considered food deserts, where accessing healthy produce can be difficult. The nonprofit gives the vegetables away for free as part of its mission to expand access to food that is culturally relevant in Latino communities.
But in the last six months, many of the people the nonprofit serves have grown too afraid to go out in public because of the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown. That chilling effect also impacted volunteers at the nonprofit’s farm.
Maria Caldero Garcia gets groceries from a market event held by Latinos Unidos Y Floreciendo. As families have grown increasingly afraid to leave their homes, the nonprofit's events are no longer advertised, and news of them is spread through word of mouth.
Saskia Hatvany / OPB
Now, instead of advertising the markets, the nonprofit relies on word-of-mouth networks. And instead of adults, it’s often children who come pick up food. Many are teenagers, but one girl is just five years old, according to Executive Director Michelle Vazquez. She comes to the market with empty bags.
“That one is really heartbreaking for our staff,” says Vasquez. “Our staff will walk her back to her apartment because her mom watches from her apartment window and she’s too afraid to leave. Our staff will walk her back up because the grocery bags are too heavy for her.”
The number of immigration arrests in Washington state and Oregon increased dramatically in the last three months of 2025, according to data released Wednesday by the University of Washington’s Center for Human Rights.
Stricter immigration enforcement was a pillar of Trump’s platform as a candidate and has remained a priority since he took office. The White House has said mass deportations are “freeing up resources” and “restoring safety” to the American public.
Trying to stay lighthearted
Rachel Feston stands behind the bins of produce, talking with people as they fill bags of food. Feston manages Latinos Unidos y Floreciendo’s 10-acre plot at the 78th Street Heritage Farm, a historic site managed by Clark County.
Feston coordinates volunteers with the nonprofit — its name translates to Latinos United and Flourishing. But many of the Latino volunteers she used to see at the Hazel Dell farm have stopped coming in recent months. At least one was detained nearby by ICE.
Feston says she tries to keep her interactions at the food distribution events upbeat because of the stress the community is under.
“One of the big things is joking around with them. They’re always checking to see how my Spanish is doing and testing me, so I try and just be more lighthearted when I’m talking with them,” she says.
Latinos Unidos y Floreciendo has had to adapt in other ways. The nonprofit’s federal funding from USDA was frozen in 2025 during the Department of Government Efficiency’s downsizing efforts. The funds were later reinstated and are currently set to expire in May.
Vasquez thinks their funding was targeted because of the organization’s emphasis on diversity, equity and inclusion programming. The Trump administration characterized such activities funded by the federal government as “discriminatory” in a January 2025 executive order. More recently, the nonprofit has scrubbed DEI language from its websites and social media.
Getting out of your bubble
Midway through market day in Woodland, Vasquez is interrupted by a woman picking up produce. The woman has just received a text that a mother in the area was detained the previous night, and her two 11-year-old twins were left behind. She would later be deported, Vasquez told OPB.
“I would take them two weeks’ worth of food,” Vasquez calls across the room.
The kids won’t self-deport, she says. Instead, they’ll stay in Woodland — and now will be supported by the mothers in their church.
Those mothers are “going to walk that food over to that house and make sure those babies are taken care of,” she says. “They’ll stay in the community.”
Michelle Vasquez, left, and Irma Duarte prepare a bag for a family who's parents were recently deported. Vasquez and other nonprofit workers report often seeing children coming in to collect groceries while their parents wait in the car or at home.
Saskia Hatvany / OPB
A few minutes later, the tone takes a humorous shift. A man is drinking a cup of champurrado, hot chocolate thickened with masa corn flour, as he picks up produce.
“What happened to your diabetes?” Vasquez jokes.
Tomorrow, he says, tomorrow he’ll deal with his diabetes.
That levity is another reason for the market. It creates a place where the people here can share food and be comfortable.
Vasquez lives in Camas, an upscale city east of Vancouver. Without intentionally going to the food distribution events or the farm, she says, she could easily live in a bubble, disconnected from what’s happening with the current immigration policies.
“How would I know?” she says. “It’s not about what’s on the news. These are real people in our own neighborhoods.”