C\u00e1ndido \u00c1lvarez has made it his policy never to go to the doctor.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot when I\u2019m sick, not even when it\u2019s serious,\u201d he said. \u201cI prefer not to go.\u201d<\/p>\n
So when, amid one of Houston\u2019s increasingly sweltering summers<\/a> recently, he said his body temperature reached a whopping 120F during his construction job at an unventilated bodega \u2013 and when blood in his urine indicated that such extreme heat exposure was likely damaging his kidneys \u2013 he acknowledged it was an alarm bell. But not enough of one to get him to the emergency room.<\/p>\n He remembers how just four hours at the hospital when he had Covid-19 landed him with a $7,500 bill.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to die not so much from the illness but from thinking about how I\u2019m going to pay the rent,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Originally from Honduras, \u00c1lvarez, 47, is an undocumented immigrant who has lived in the US since 2015 and in Houston<\/a> for almost as long. Unlike his wife and three kids, he doesn\u2019t have health insurance, despite constantly facing risks on the job such as contact with mold and insulation debris, threats made worse by bosses who don\u2019t provide basic safety equipment such as masks and eye protection.<\/p>\n He has often worked remodeling houses inundated by Houston\u2019s notorious floods or cleaning up waste that people have thrown into the streets after major storms sweep through. Then, at home, he is surrounded by other potential contaminants, including one of Houston\u2019s two major airports right down the street and many of its chemical plants within a few miles. He says the city\u2019s environmental agency insists the air is fine, but he has his doubts.<\/p>\n \u201cHow is it going to be possible that this doesn\u2019t affect the environment?\u201d \u00c1lvarez asked. \u201cIt has to affect it, because 24 hours a day they\u2019re expending smoke from those plants.\u201d<\/p>\n An worker walks back to his shop after fixing a tire damaged in the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey, on 29 August 2017 in Houston, Texas. Photograph: AFP\/Getty Images<\/p>\n \u00c1lvarez and his family are just one example of how the climate crisis, industrial pollution and environmental disasters already combine to hit lower-income immigrant communities harder than most others in Houston, one of the most diverse metropolitan areas<\/a> in the country. Public health is affected, and then, on top of that, the second Trump administration has been choking off access to healthcare for these marginalized communities because of rising costs and the hardline mass deportation agenda<\/a> making people afraid to seek treatment, even in emergencies.<\/p>\n Where \u00c1lvarez\u2019s family lives is where much of Houston\u2019s pollution ends up, tied to a 21-year life expectancy gap<\/a> between the lower-income, primarily Black and brown residents on Houston\u2019s east side and their wealthier, whiter neighbors on the west side of the city.<\/p>\n This phenomenon is illustrated partly by something known as \u201cthe arrow\u201d because of the shape relevant data make when displaying key indicators of wellbeing on a map of the city. If the arrow represents affluence, it points from the wealthy western neighborhoods to the east, where prosperity is lacking.<\/p>\n A map showing the \u2018arrow\u2019 that highlights the disparity in median home prices in Harris county, Texas<\/a><\/p>\n Inside the arrow\u2019s lines, if superimposed on a map, sit luxury stores<\/a>, green spaces and the richest suburb<\/a> in Texas, with the point of the arrow abruptly ending where it hits the downtown area. <\/strong>And just outside<\/a> the arrow\u2019s margins, to its south and east, where many of the city\u2019s blue-collar immigrants live, poverty rates, childhood asthma rates, and the number of solid waste sites and facilities that use harmful chemicals are all higher, while markers of prosperity such as median home value and college degree attainment are lower.<\/p>\n \u201cAlmost every indicator you look at, this arrow emerges,\u201d said Nadia Valliani, director of community impact at the Greater Houston Community Foundation.<\/p>\n Now, with Houston\u2019s outsized vulnerability to extreme weather \u2013 cyclones, severe thunderstorms, winter storms, hurricanes, floods and heat have all pummeled<\/a> the south-east Texas city in recent years \u2013 and the local county\u2019s moniker<\/a> as \u201cthe epicenter of North America\u2019s petrochemical industry\u201d, immigrants exposed to the worst consequences of poor environmental planning disproportionately struggle with health and safety.<\/p>\n \u201cI think we just haven\u2019t stopped living in survival mode for a very long time,\u201d said Norma Gonzalez, a community advocate at the Houston-based immigrant-serving organization Woori Juntos.<\/p>\n Gonzalez said that homes in their neighborhood that have been flooded up to their windows during past deluges remain in the same precarious condition, with no added infrastructure to prevent future floods. And amid disaster after disaster, staff at Woori Juntos have noticed people becoming more isolated, not wanting to ask for help.<\/p>\n Roughly 30%<\/a> of the residents of Houston \u2013 the fourth-largest city in the US, with a population of about 2.4 million people<\/a> \u2013 <\/strong>are foreign-born.<\/p>\n Downtown Houston, Texas, on 29 August 2017, after Hurricane Harvey caused massive flooding. Photograph: Marcus Yam\/Los Angeles Times\/Getty Images<\/p>\n Nearly a third of immigrants in the area do not have legal immigration status, while 64% are either green card holders or naturalized citizens, according<\/a> to the Migration Policy Institute. Although Mexicans constitute<\/a> the largest immigrant group based on nationality and a majority of local immigrants identify as Latino<\/a>, Houston is extremely diverse. Vietnamese, Urdu, Tagalog, Arabic and other languages all coexist with Spanish and English on the streets and in homes.<\/p>\n \u201cThe city beats [to] the pulse of immigrants,\u201d said Ginny Goldman, director of the climate recovery group Organizing Resilience, adding that it \u201ccould not be more run, and developed, and shaped by immigrants\u201d.<\/p>\n However, Texas is already a disaster-prone<\/a> state and Harris county, the largest and most central county in the Houston metropolitan area, <\/strong>encompassing much of the city\u2019s east and west sides, is more vulnerable<\/a> to disasters\u2019 negative impacts than 72% of other US counties, <\/strong>according to the Greater Houston Community Foundation. Summers bring excruciating heat, with the number of days above 95F increasing<\/a> substantially in recent years, while storms<\/a> and other weather-related emergencies<\/a>, often exacerbated by the climate crisis, cause property damage and loss of life.<\/p>\n When Hurricane Harvey<\/a> hit in 2017, the area was engulfed in up to 60in of rain<\/a>, a downpour that estimates<\/a> indicate was made 15-38% worse by the climate crisis.<\/p>\n Considered <\/strong>a <\/strong>one-in-1,000-year flood<\/a> event, Harvey set a record<\/a> in the contiguous US for the maximum amount of rainfall from a tropical storm or hurricane. It killed 89 people and left $158.8bn in estimated damages<\/a> in its wake.<\/p>\n This was followed by a series of other massive storms and the Covid-19 pandemic, compounding Houstonians\u2019 adversities.<\/p>\n More than half of Harris county\u2019s residents who responded to a survey<\/a> by local university researchers said they endured blackouts during Harvey and the 2021 winter storm. About 900,000 Houston-area residents lost<\/a> power for days during the May 2024 derecho wind storm, and when Hurricane Beryl hit two months later, 3m homes and businesses were<\/a> plunged into darkness.<\/p>\n Jesus Nunez carries his daughter Genesis, six, to the safety of a relative\u2019s house after flooding from Hurricane Harvey, on 27 August 2017. Photograph: Robert Gauthier\/Los Angeles Times\/Getty Images<\/p>\n Meanwhile, natural hazards have not mixed well with the petrochemical industry\u2019s human-made ones in Harris county, where 2.6m<\/a> barrels of crude oil are processed daily.<\/p>\n Even under normal circumstances, Houston\u2019s east side must contend with a 52-mile shipping channel that human rights advocates have labeled<\/a> a \u201cracial sacrifice zone\u201d, as residents report significant respiratory issues after living alongside more than 400<\/a> petrochemical facilities.<\/p>\n Then, ahead of big storms, the city\u2019s oil refineries and chemical plants tend to hastily<\/a> burn off fuel and chemicals. Those same refineries and plants are easily flooded, contaminating flood water that then pollutes streets and local waterways. Chemicals<\/a> release into the soil, water and air after combining with flood waters.<\/p>\n During Harvey, a trillion gallons of rain formed flood waters and mixed with surface water that reportedly<\/a> contained thousands<\/a> of gallons of sewage, while 340 tons<\/a> of air pollution came from plants<\/a> shutting down, restarting and malfunctioning. After powerful flood waters hit two tanks at an energy pipeline operator facility, 461,000 gallons<\/a> of gasoline spilled<\/a> half a mile from a neighborhood that is predominantly Latino.<\/p>\n Inevitably, the more vulnerable immigrants were harmed at high rates by Hurricane Harvey<\/a>. Nearly a quarter of participants in a study<\/a> focused on Houston\u2019s Vietnamese community said they suffered injuries or illness, while those with damaged homes were far more likely to endure poor mental health.<\/p>\n Years later, after the derecho and Beryl, immigrant communities similarly grappled with their health because of mold and debris where they resided, Gonzalez said.<\/p>\n \u201cIt is a hassle for folks to have to continue to try to go on with their regular lives when things in their home are literally falling apart,\u201d they said.<\/p>\n In a 2017 survey<\/a> of Texas gulf coast counties, nearly a quarter of immigrants said they could use more help getting the medical care they and their families needed. Over half did not have health insurance, and more than four in 10 didn\u2019t have a doctor\u2019s office to visit when sick, unless they went to the emergency room.<\/p>\n Such barriers to healthcare access have only deepened with the second Trump administration\u2019s immigration crackdown, which has hit Houston\u2019s communities hard<\/a>. Advocates have likened the ramped-up enforcement \u2013 and the fear it has engendered \u2013 to a disaster in itself.<\/p>\n Since January 2025, 48% of likely undocumented immigrants, 14% of lawfully present immigrants and 8% of naturalized citizens across the country say<\/a> they or their families have skipped out on medical care because of immigration-related fears, according to research by the KFF non-profit organization (formerly the Kaiser Family Foundation). The mass deportation campaign also has<\/a> inherent health implications, putting additional stress on patients who are already struggling with chronic disease or mental health concerns.<\/p>\n Protesters at a No Kings demonstration in Houston, Texas, on 28 March 2026. Photograph: NurPhoto\/Getty Images<\/p>\n Melissa Villarreal, who researched Harvey\u2019s impact on Mexican-origin women for her PhD dissertation, recalled how even under the first Trump administration<\/a>, the lack of access to Fema assistance or loans with an affordable interest rate through a reliable lender left many families in unsafe conditions \u2013 immigrants who are undocumented or in liminal statuses face challenges opening bank accounts and accruing credit. Families blocked off whole rooms in their homes because of mold and holes in the roof, she said, or they used only one bathroom in a two-bathroom home because they couldn\u2019t afford to fix the other one.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause they didn\u2019t have the money, they never recovered,\u201d she said. \u201cBut then what happens the next time there\u2019s a disaster?\u201d<\/p>\n Fema\u2019s bureaucratic hurdles in turn exacerbated people\u2019s stress and disaffection amid an already fragile situation.<\/p>\n \u201cYou think, \u2018Well, Harvey\u2019s a once-in-a-lifetime storm.\u2019 And then suddenly they\u2019re realizing now, \u2018Oh, that\u2019s not the case. This is going to happen again,\u2019\u201d said Villarreal.<\/p>\n Experts have called<\/a> the ensuing mental health effects the \u201crecovery from the recovery\u201d, as many people of color who deal with Fema denials and other frustrations after the storm feel as though they\u2019re simply expected to live in unsafe situations as their new normal.<\/p>\n Villarreal suggested fixes that Fema could implement with relative ease: accepting more types of documentation, training its call center operators better and hiring more multilingual staff.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, some local organizations and grassroots activists are devising better-targeted aid after disasters and advocating for more proactive prevention beforehand.<\/p>\n Carolyn Rivera looks at photos of past community meetings she helped organize in the historically Black neighborhood of Settegast, which has the shortest life expectancy in all of Harris county, in 2023 in Houston. Photograph: Raquel Natalicchio\/Houston Chronicle\/Hearst Newspapers\/Getty Images<\/p>\n Sitting in a park in north-east Houston\u2019s Settegast neighborhood, Hilda \u2013 an undocumented immigrant, environmental advocate and three-decade-long Houstonian who asked to only use her first name for fear of immigration enforcement \u2013 said she hopes to mitigate future local soil contamination and flood risks through communities planting more vegetation to address contaminants and absorb water. More plants and fewer impermeable surfaces such as concrete or cement, she argues, could help combat some of the devastation that the homes around her suffered during Harvey. She remembers how people abandoned or sold their properties to investors for cheap, some of them after nightmarish experiences of being inundated during the floods.<\/p>\n \u201cThey were afraid that their children would be taken by the current,\u201d Hilda said. \u201cBetter to sell that house, because they don\u2019t want to go through that again.\u201d<\/p>\n After Harvey, the city\u2019s official plans for flood reduction in wealthy, whiter west Houston far eclipsed<\/a> those for north-east Houston.<\/p>\n And when Hurricane Beryl hit in 2024, which scientists say was intensified by<\/a> the climate crisis, Hilda got very sick after running out of her diabetes medication.<\/p>\n Hilda lives between Settegast and a neighboring community called Trinity Gardens, in a historically Black area where she moved because of the lower cost. Other immigrants did the same, she said, because without being able to secure loans \u2013 without credit or a social security number \u2013 it\u2019s better for them to buy cheaper houses that they can pay off quickly. That way, the argument goes, even if they\u2019re detained or deported, they at least retain the US-based asset they\u2019ve worked hard for, and can rent it out.<\/p>\n Originally from Mexico, Hilda has always lived in regions affected by hurricanes, and in Houston, she said, extreme weather is nothing new. But she has noticed an increase in the volatility around her in recent years \u2013 how dry it is usually, and then how much rain falls when the water finally comes.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s what has changed,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n James Killings, center, plays dominoes with his friends in the Settegast neighborhood of Houston on on 19 January 2019. Photograph: Houston Chronicle\/Hearst Newspapers\/Getty Imag<\/p>\n Then there is industrial waste. Hilda pointed out one of Houston\u2019s infamous \u201cmountains\u201d nearby \u2013 an unusual rise in the city\u2019s low-lying, flat topography that usually means<\/a> a grassed-over dump, despite looking natural to the untrained eye.<\/p>\n Her local site is part of Houston\u2019s long history of placing waste disposal and other polluting facilities in communities of color. An academic study<\/a> published in 2023 found 40 out of 46 soil samples in north-east Houston showed<\/a> chemical levels that suggested a potential risk for cancer, and lead levels in some of the samples were well above what is safe for children.<\/p>\n In the city\u2019s south-west, which is also outside the more affluent periphery of universities, world-renowned hospitals and other prime real estate \u2013 and where another large concentration of lower-income <\/strong>immigrants lives \u2013 the infrastructure is similarly poor, said Alain Cisneros, campaign coordinator at the immigrant-led organization Fiel.<\/p>\n In Harvey\u2019s aftermath, Cisneros took a truck filled with donations to the area, where he recalls lines of people waiting for dry clothes. His organization went door to door to understand how people were living and found newborn babies in first-floor apartments inundated with water, he said.<\/p>\n \u201cEverything combines from something bad to worse,\u201d Cisneros said. \u201c[And] if there isn\u2019t enough income for a family, they\u2019re going to continue renting, in deplorable situations, but they can\u2019t move.\u201d<\/p>\n For immigrants stuck in dangerous conditions, one invaluable local source of medical care is the <\/strong>Ibn Sina Foundation\u2019s network of community clinics. Staff from there have waded through flood waters to bring basic medical supplies and other necessities to people.<\/p>\n Mariela Soberanis, a clinic manager, said that many Houstonians struggle with healthcare after a major storm, related to both physical and mental health.<\/p>\n And in more normal times, her staff provide a low-cost one-stop shop, especially for the uninsured, with specialists, ultrasound exams, bloodwork, dentists, pediatric specialists, facilities for minor procedures and an on-site pharmacy.<\/p>\n Yet in recent months, the clinic\u2019s waiting room has been noticeably emptier as immigration enforcement officers prowl the streets.<\/p>\n \u201cPeople don\u2019t want to come out,\u201d Soberanis said. \u201cUnless they really, really, really have to.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"C\u00e1ndido \u00c1lvarez has made it his policy never to go to the doctor. \u201cNot when I\u2019m sick, not…\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":768361,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[23],"tags":[746,159,67,132,68],"class_list":{"0":"post-768360","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-environment","8":"tag-environment","9":"tag-science","10":"tag-united-states","11":"tag-unitedstates","12":"tag-us"},"share_on_mastodon":{"url":"https:\/\/pubeurope.com\/@us\/116505501074296400","error":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/768360","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=768360"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/768360\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/768361"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=768360"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=768360"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=768360"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}