Emily Cohen Ibañez’ Fruits of Labor is an unusual entry in the genre of documentary work about farm laborers and the food system. The hour-long feature POV documentary, which airs on PBS and streams on the PBS website starting tonight, is focused on the daily life of Ashley Pavon (credited as a cowriter for her work on the film’s voiceovers), a teenage farmworker in Watsonville, California. And while a critical analysis of the food system is wound indirectly through every frame, the film focuses on Pavon and her experiences, narrowing the lens from some 830,000 farmworkers in the state to just one pair of hands that picks and packs strawberries in the smoky fields and chilly early mornings.
Pavon is from a mixed-status family—she and her siblings have documentation that allows them to live and work in the United States, while their mother Beatriz does not. Questions of status and citizenship flow throughout; nationwide, around 50 percent of farmworkers are undocumented and the number is believed to be even higher in California. Filmed during the height of the immigration raids on the region’s agricultural regions under former President Trump, Fruits of Labor explores the emotional tension of living with familial uncertainty while coming of age.
Pavon is struggling in high school, yet wants to go to college; in one scene, a guidance counselor winces as Pavon talks about her absences, forced to choose between work and her education. When she is in school, she’s exhausted from working the night shift at a packing facility, sorting flash-frozen strawberries. During the days she labors in the strawberry fields, picking fruit in repetitive, low-paid toil.
She experiences pressure to provide for her family, as her mother cannot support them alone in low-wage jobs as a cleaner and farmworker; while Beatriz aspires to one day buy a house for her family, they share a crowded home in which immigrants from 12 families share a bathroom. Her younger brother, also in high school, doesn’t work; Pavon expresses clear frustration with his privileged status as a boy, even as they have an affectionate relationship, and crushing fear at what might happen if her mother is deported. This taps into the deeply underlying theme of Latinas as providers for their families, managing everything from household cleaning to paying the rent.
The hyperfocus on Pavon gives the viewer a very distinct and personal view, humanizing a farmworker who actually does very little work on screen. The viewer will come away from the film understanding in broad sketches what it’s like to work in the fields and the processing plant, but it is Pavon as a person they are likely to care for, and Pavon they will think about when slicing strawberries over their morning yogurt.
As Pavon navigates her transition into adulthood, followed by the camera from the prom to the boardwalk and back home, it’s impossible to avoid her humanity. It’s also impossible to avoid a reckoning with the hidden costs of the food system and who ultimately pays them.
Civil Eats spoke with Ibañez about the film, the dignity of farm work, labor organizing, and the next chapter in Ashley Pavon’s life.
What brought you to this very personal approach?
The coming-of-age story is a popular American genre in film, and yet, it’s rarely afforded to women of color, especially working women of color. I did a short film [on the same topic] for The Guardian that was more social issue based. For a feature, I wanted to show Ashley as the full, complex, layered young woman that she is. So that when you see people working in the fields, it’s not someone to ignore or to conflate with a social issue, but to see people as full humans, people with complexities, navigating all these dreams and desires that are often universally shared. To me, that was really important. Oftentimes, for women, work politics don’t end in the external work world, but actually in domestic life. To look really closely at gender, it required looking at the family and its dynamics. Those were some of the reasons I approached the film in the way that I did.
“I wanted to show Ashley as the full, complex, layered young woman that she is. So that when you see people working in the fields, it’s not someone to ignore or to conflate with a social issue, but to see people as full humans.”
The theme of Latina women holding up their families is an incredibly powerful element of this film. What surfaced as you followed Ashley and her family, especially her brother, whom viewers might come to resent?
I think it’s a sensitive subject. I hope that viewers see how much love there is between Ashley and [her brother] Ashford. There’s an old saying here in the U.S., “boys will be boys.” Men are often burdened with having to be the breadwinners as they grow older, but young boys are given more freedom than young girls. It’s certainly the case in many Latino families, but I think it goes beyond that. The young girl is seen as the responsible one, who will take on the work responsibilities, to keep the family going, and to be able to lift everyone else up. That kind of burden oftentimes also thwarts our dreams and aspirations. Most of us have some relationship to a tension between family obligation and our own desires for individual independence and freedom—our dreams.
Many viewers may be surprised to see teenagers at work in physically demanding jobs like this; can you tell me a little about underage farmworkers?
As Americans, food is so intimate that we want to look away. But actually, children have been working in the fields since the time of slavery. After Emancipation, there was Jim Crow. When we did get more broad worker protections across the country, with the New Deal, for example, Jim Crow was still in place, and what happened was that the Dixie Democrats actually wanted to exclude worker protections for Black and brown people.
What they did was a compromise with Franklin D. Roosevelt to exclude whole sectors of the economy— agriculture and domestic labor, [which both] have a relationship with slavery. So, to this day, even though we have more worker protections, especially in California, they aren’t equal by any stretch to other forms of work in the American economy.