HISPANICS IN NW ARKANSAS FIND COMMUNITY AND CONTRADICTIONS

FAYETTEVILLE, Ark. - The Hispanic population in Northwest Arkansas continues to grow, but a University of Arkansas researcher believes the reason for that growth has recently changed. No longer are Mexicans and other Latin Americans moving into the area simply for steady jobs. They’re now drawn as much by the community as by the work.

"The first wave of immigrants were men looking for jobs, usually with the idea that they’d earn money and return home," said Steve Striffler, assistant professor of anthropology. "Now full families immigrate. No one comes into Northwest Arkansas without already knowing somebody, and increasingly they come to stay."

Striffler has devoted the past several years to interviewing and observing Hispanic workers in poultry plants across the south. He has gotten to know their families, their feelings about the area and their frustrations. He has accompanied them on trips back to Mexico and witnessed the conditions in which they work. Today he presents his insights at "The Hispanic Phenomenon: New Directions for Arkansas" - a conference co-sponsored by the Hispanic Women’s Organization of Arkansas and the U of A.

As new immigrants enter Northwest Arkansas, they find a burgeoning Hispanic community - restaurants, church groups, soccer leagues. But according to Striffler, that community has been generated and supported largely by the Hispanic population, with only minimal help from other residents of the area. It’s a missed opportunity, Striffler said, and typical of the contradictions that greet Hispanic immigrants as they settle in new areas.

"They’re not necessarily harassed here, but neither are they welcomed - except as a source of labor," Striffler said. "Northwest Arkansas is a bit stunned, not knowing how to react either positively or negatively to this new population."

The subtle divisions between the new Hispanic community and area natives become increasingly evident as more families immigrate to Northwest Arkansas, bringing with them school-age children. In public schools, these children face language and culture barriers that the Arkansas school system is not fully prepared to address. As of yet, too little has been done to accommodate the special needs of Hispanic students, said Striffler.

Other rifts are evident in the poultry plants, where many Hispanic immigrants work. Although the plants virtually guarantee employees 40 hours a week and full benefits, the work is physically grueling and promises little opportunity for advancement. Over 75 percent of the production line workers in Northwest Arkansas poultry plants are Hispanic. The remaining 25 percent come largely from other minority backgrounds.

However, supervisors of the production line are predominantly white, and few speak Spanish. In addition, most poultry plants are beginning to require that supervisors hold at least a bachelor’s degree - a qualification that serves little purpose, according to Striffler, but which effectively limits immigrants from attaining management positions.

"Anyone who’s worked on the production line for more than five years knows they are being exploited," Striffler said. "What makes it bearable to them is the idea that they’re working for a future, and that future is their children."

As Northwest Arkansas continues to adjust to its new demographics, Striffler hopes that the Hispanic and native communities will begin to interact more. He believes it’s time for the school system to start providing for a wider range of student needs and for area organizations to extend more support and services.

"It’s a shame this hasn’t happened already on a larger scale because there could be a real cultural expansion if the area was more accommodating, more supportive. This could broaden everyone’s horizon," he said.