Marlon, an undocumented immigrant from Guatemala, fled violence there many years ago and traveled to the United States atop the dangerous freight train known as “La Bestia” in search of a better life. “Ten years ago, they killed one of my sisters in Guatemala. That was the hardest thing in my life. You have an option: You stay there, and you know in two or three years maybe you don’t survive — or leave your family, and risk your life to cross the border. But then you confront another struggle.”
Undocumented workers comprise 10% of California’s workforce. Though an expansion of COVID-19 relief cleared Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom’s budget, these vulnerable people are still working at risk of exposure while waiting in limbo for assistance. The pandemic added a burden to everyone’s life, but disproportionately impacted Latino communities. This project aimed to reveal how one man on the margins adapted to the weight of his heavier load.
High Country News: Marlon's Hustle to Survive Without a Safety Net
Undocumented workers comprise 10% of California’s workforce. Though an expansion of COVID-19 relief cleared Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom’s budget, these vulnerable people are still working at risk of exposure while waiting in limbo for assistance. The pandemic added a burden to everyone’s life, but disproportionately impacted Latino communities. This project aimed to reveal how one man on the margins adapted to the weight of his heavier load.
High Country News: Marlon's Hustle to Survive Without a Safety Net
Marlon during a house call from a longtime customer of the barbershop where he used to work before losing his job when the shop closed during the first wave of covid-19 in Los Angeles.
Marlon on an early morning run training for a marathon race. “One of my points is to show that even though there’s a lot of bad things, I still give my best. I want to try to change my life. I didn’t go to school. Because my father passed away when I was 10 months old, I didn’t know him. I saw my mom struggle, and I promised myself that I have to live, to do something. I want to show other people we can do good things, even though we struggle with a lot here.”
Marlon sells masks on a nearly empty LA Metro train in April.
“I feel healthy. I go to the street, God covers me,” he said. “I feel healthy physically, but mentally, not so much, because a lot of things changed in my life: paying my rent, sending my family money, worrying about bills, my son, everything. It’s not easy working on the streets.”
Marlon lifts a rock in a canyon near the Los Feliz neighborhood where he runs 10 miles from downtown.
“I only want to work,” he says. “I want to give my best. I’m not stealing. I’m not doing things to hurt people.”
Marlon gets a meal at a local kitchen in Westlake, Los Angeles.
Marlon is an Indigenous K’ich’e man who fled violence in Guatemala, traveling atop the dangerous freight train from Mexico known as “La Bestia” (“The Beast”).
Marlon training in Bronson Canyon.
Marlon is seen in the window of the small apartment he shares with his brother before sunrise one early morning in April.