Aztlán to Eden: Primitive Accumulation on the Grasslands of Arizona

AUTHOR: Anjika Pai

Author’s Note:

This essay is non-exhaustive in its coverage of issues surrounding race and ethnicity in Arizona. It is a product of natural curiosity, research that I completed after finishing a final essay for professor Peluso’s class on political ecology. I welcome any feedback or further research describing the intersection of the state’s role in grazing culture and racial formation.

View original submission here. igin people cultivated a land ethic which “instructs peo-

Introduction

Arizona is home to over six thousand ranches, each contributing to a total of 880,000 head of cattle in the state (Arrowquip). To begin ranching, a farmer needs fertile grasslands for grazing and three to thirty gallons of water each day per cow—both difficult resources to find and access in a desert state (Rasby). Pre-colonial ranchers, including Native Mexican and American people, managed desert landscapes to maximize biodiversity and minimize reliance on any single crop, forming landscape mosaics to support ranching and other cultural activities (Peña 56). Biologists today regard the greater Mexico region as a Vavilov Center: a biogeographic region which played a major role in the domestication of wild plants, as well as the conservation of wild plant species (Peña 46). Aboriginal Mexican ranchers were responsible for the establishment of lucrative crops such as corn, beans, and squash (Peña 46). Planting these three crops together naturally replenished the soil’s stock of nitrogen and inhibited weed growth (Peña 86). Additionally, communities utilized traditional use areas, followed commons rules, and promoted mutual aid in order to maintain their natural resources (Peña 71). Together, the ranchers’ collective actions developed a “cowboy ecology,” marked by a landscape which was once described as “one continual

Early farmers in the American Southwest were guided by ideologies which emphasized respect for the natural world and centuries of accumulated knowledge on plant biology and weather patterns in the Sonoran Desert (Sheridan 34). Native people were taught by animal guides “to avoid being greedy and self-centered” (Peña 69). These lessons morphed into sayings such as La tierra es vida (“The land is life”) and Sin agua, no hay vida (“Without water, there is no life”) which describe the intrinsic link between human life and the natural world (Peña ixx, 68). Mexican-or-

pasture” (Peña 89). ple to act as caretakers of the earth” (Peña ixx). They act with vergüenza, a norm which is similar to the aboriginal rejection of the capitalist system and the greed which accompanies it (Peña ixx). As Spanish, Mexican, and Anglo waves of colonization occurred, however, greed leached into Arizonan soil.

Since the start of Spanish contact, Arizona’s natural resources have been subjected to primitive accumulation, a concept introduced in Marx’s Capital to describe the simultaneous divorcing of labor and manufactured products, as well as the formation of a free labor pool. The ongoing primitive accumulation of ranching capital in Arizona most severely impacts the state’s ecosystems and Hispanic communities. After exploring the materiality of Arizona’s land, water, and cattle, I delineate each era of ranching in the state. I conclude by discussing the dominant narratives which have shaped Arizona’s landscape and the recent racialization of Hispanic laborers in relation to the cowboy figure. By integrating environmental, economic, and ethnographic studies of Arizona, I argue that barriers to capital which Hispanic ranchers face today arise from misrepresentations of their cultural history.

Materiality

Before understanding the relations between the land, water, cattle, and people of Arizona, I will address the materiality of land and water, recognizing the biophysical constraints and the agency of nature (Bakker 46). The name Arizona, an Uto-Aztecan word, means “place of little spring” (Arizona State Library). The state’s water sources are indeed limited, constricted to few permanent streams and between zero to fifteen inches of rainfall each year (Lewis 120). Perennial grasses cover valleys in wet years, but dry years observe empty, loose soil and stripped-down oak trees (Sayre 248, 249). Half of

Arizona’s area is covered by desert shrubland, which supports diverse plant and animal life like mesquite trees, prickly pear, and saguaro cacti (Lewis 120). Easily-eroded valleys contain alluvial soil with minimal organic content (Lewis 120). Since the quantity and quality of land and water affect the survival of cattle, the materialities of the three natural resources are interdependent. Thus, Arizonan farmers strive to control each aspect of these ranching inputs to maintain their livelihoods. The abundance of one element could drastically change within a year, impacting the other two resources, as well as the social and economic structures of Arizonans. On this active, dynamic stage, Spanish, Mexican, and American forces began to change Arizona’s landscape through primitive accumulation.

Primitive Accumulation through Arizona’s Eras of Ranching Activity

Establishment of Settled Grazing and the Formation of “Hispanic” as an Ethnicity (1697-1847)

The history of settled grazing in Arizona begins with Father Eusebio Francisco Kino, a Spanish Jesuit who created missions from 1687 to 1710 in Arizona’s southern plateaus (Sayre 244). Kino’s 1697 expedition in southern Arizona introduced sixty head of cattle to San Luis de Bocuanos, eventually forming the first two cattle ranches in the state. The Spaniards, led by Kino, colonized grasslands with longhorns, uncastrated and “semi-feral beasts” which could maintain their own herd health in most seasons (Sheridan 84). Native cowboys confined in the missions were tasked with branding these cattle—perhaps the first documented instance of the utilization of Native labor to manage colonial ranching (Sheridan 39). As a result, Jesuit missions were not self-sufficient. They required Native people’s labor to survive, a fact which tribes often used to negotiate gifts in return for their work (Sheridan 54). Yet despite these gifts, most missions exacerbated the power gap between Native communities and the Spanish elite. The cattle, cared for by Native residents, empowered missions, not the tribes themselves. In the example of Tumacacori, 5,500 head of cattle acted as the mission’s liquid assets (Sheridan 54). The herds were sold for twelve thousand pesos, providing the necessary funding to finish the establishment’s church (Sheridan 54). Mission officials also used violence to maintain sovereignty over Native communities (Sheridan 31). Under Kino’s rule, Spaniards punished rebel leaders by tricking O’odham tribe members to arrive at a marsh unarmed before slaughtering them (Sheridan 31). The onset of settled grazing in Arizona introduced colonial frameworks to the grasslands that were once home to Native American tribes.

Following Kino’s death in 1711, Apache tribes limited the influx of Spanish cattle to the Santa Cruz Riverbed for nearly eighty years (Sayre 245). At the end of the century, relations between Spanish settlers and Apache people improved, allowing secular cattle ranchers to expand into the Sonoita, San Pedro, and Babocomari Valleys (Sayre 245). From 1820 to 1835, Mexican estates and ranches began to replace Spanish missions (Lim 30). But Native people, still fighting for their homeland after the departure of Spanish colonists, disrupted the growth of Mexico’s empire. Consequently, the Mexican government offered citizenship to Indigenous villagers, undermining Indigenous land claims and political sovereignty (Lim 30). After the failure of this program, northern Mexican states began an extermination program which rewarded anywhere between a hundred and 250 pesos for dead or imprisoned Apache people (Lim 30). Native communities, however, continued to persist. Many federally-recognized tribes exist on reservation land within Arizona to this day, though they suffer the effects of benign neglect in the form of policies which ignore the undesirable situation that the federal government should be responsible for dealing with.

Despite the existence of Indigenous reservations on Arizonan land, years of erasing Indigenous sovereignty paved the way for eventually “collapsing Indigenous identities into Mexican-ness,” as historian Julian Lim writes (Lim 61). This process, spearheaded by both Spanish and Mexican governments, culminated in a turning point of Hispanic history in 1848, when the Mexican War ended. That year, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo brought centuries of conflict to the attention of United States citizens (Lim 61). The true history of the Hispanic community, complicated by the influences of Spanish, Mexican, and Indigenous territorial disputes, was incomprehensible for American nationalists (Lim 61). Eugenicists and nationalists latched on to the belief that Mexican and Hispanic people were simply the product of “the absorption of the blood of the original Spanish conquerors by the native Indian population” (Lim 89). Thus, the concept of “Hispanic” as an ethnic category arose from white Americans who ignored complex relationships in order to deem the group “not white” (Lim 89).

Anglo-American Colonists and the Formation of the Hispanic Labor Pool (1848 - 1893)

The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, along with the Gadsden Purchase, provided the United states with over

525,000 square miles of land, including present-day Arizona, California, Colorado, Nevada, New Mexico, Texas, and Utah. The agreements marked the beginning of a new environmental era focused on extraction and introduced new ways of imagining territories in the American Southwest. On paper, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo promised to respect all property owners. Yet Article 10 of the original treaty, a section which stated “All grants of land made by the Mexican government… shall be respected as valid, to the same extent that the same grants would be valid, if the said territories had remained within the limits of Mexico,” was removed from the Treaty’s final revision (Sheridan 140). In the aftermath, less than half of the grants brought before the Court of Private Land Claims were confirmed, validating only five percent of 38,000,000 claimed acres (Sheridan 141). The U.S. judicial system, even if operating with good intentions, did not accept the customary rights and common property systems of Mexican and Spanish law (Sheridan 142). Additionally, courts privileged those who had “worked the land” but did not acknowledge Native methods of ecological management (Sheridan 142). By 1876, Anglo-Americans owned more than eighty percent of the grant’s area (Sheridan 142).

Prior to the Gadsden Purchase, land known as the Tumacacori grant included reservation space. As homesteaders flooded Arizona, at least four corporations and 120 homesteaders occupied portions of this grant by 1880 (Sheridan 134). In response, three suits from landowners arose to examine the legitimacy of reservations on the Tumacacori grant, all of which were valid under Mexican law (Sheridan 135). Ultimately, the involved court did not decide if the current homesteaders’ occupation of the land was legal; instead, they focused on the legality of the first auctioneer (Sheridan 135). After consolidating the suits, the Court of Private Land Claims claimed that Ignacio Lopez, the treasurer general of Sonora, did not have the right to auction public lands (Sheridan 135). That action could have only been taken by the national treasury (Sheridan 135). The three parties then took their consolidated case to the U.S. Supreme Court, resulting in the Faxon v. United States decision which upheld the Court of Private Land Claims’ ruling (Sheridan 136). In official records, courts incorrectly claimed that the “land had been abandoned about the year 1820” (Sheridan 136). Consequently, Spanish and Mexican communities lost both their right to Arizonan land and their history of occupation.

In 1855, one year after the Gadsden Purchase was signed, cattle arrived in Arizona in excess, escaping depleted rangelands on the Great Plains (Sayre 250). The abandoned herds ran feral and grew exponentially; those who could control and brand these cows were free to establish their own herd with physical enclosures (Sayre 250). The cattle were left to returning soldiers who also profited from the surplus labor from an influx of Mexican immigrants during the 1870s (Knepper 135). The immigrants were given strenuous, dangerous jobs, what Anglo-Americans called “Mexican work,” and were paid a “Mexican wage” (Knepper 136). In 1876, Arizona began operating its first federal prison (Knepper 137). An analysis of Arizona’s Mexican-American population and the race of prison admits demonstrates that Mexicans were disproportionately imprisoned at the end of the nineteenth century (Knepper 139). The leasing of prison labor allowed industrial farms to profit from cheap labor, creating a greater divide between laborers and Anglo landowners (Knepper 140). Due to the excess of land, labor, and capital, the number of Anglo-owned herds began to grow.

Additional support for the ranching economy came from British investors, novel capitalists who poured almost 300,000,000 dollars into the ranching economy within two decades (Sayre 253). Joining British businessmen were wealthy Americans from the east, eager to “reenact the life of the landed gentry” from years past (Sayre 254). Eastern elites entered the grasslands of Arizona, eager to colonize a space which was described in 1857 as a space where there was “no occupation but labor” (Sheridan 118). Once the dry years arrived, however, these inexperienced ranchers allowed their herds to overgraze, leaving the land barren and eroded (Sayre 249). The number of herds expanded, as per conservative estimates, from forty thousand to 400,000 from 1870 to 1891 (Sayre 248). In the two years that followed, fifty to seventy-five percent of the cattle starved to death, causing one of the greatest environmental catastrophes of the nineteenth century (Sayre 249). The new settlers’ privilege provided them ranching capital and labor in the form of displaced Hispanic Arizonians, and their capitalist endeavors caused the destruction of the once open grasslands.

Continued Primitive Accumulation and the Anglo Illusion of Labor (1894 - 1932)

The dispossession of Hispanic property continued into the twentieth century, marked by the loss of land known as the Baca Float in the Santa Cruz Valley. John Watts, an attorney who represented the Baca heirs who owned the grant, bought four portions of the float in 1871, accumulating nearly 300,000 acres (Sheridan 145). Eager to begin development, Watts inaccurately described Baca Float No. 3 as “entire vacant unclaimed by anyone [sic]” (Sheridan 145). After decades of legal battles over the exact location and contents of Baca

Float No. 3, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals decided that the Baca heirs no longer had a claim over the land grant and that the Float lacked meaningful occupation (Sheridan 166). In the early 1900s, Anglo capitalists evicted the float’s settlers, the majority of whom were Hispanic (Sheridan 167). The remaining Hispanic families who escaped eviction often moved to valleys, attempting to sustain their families on small plots of land (Sheridan 170). Those who could not became migrants, following the harvest seasoning and aiding farms from the Salt River Valley to California (Sheridan 170).

Once the Hispanic community vanished, Eastern Americans descended on the property, forming the Baca Float Ranch (Sheridan 172). The “dude” ranch, formed by White settlers who longed to perform their masculinity through the reenactment of cowboy activities, reduced cattle ranches to mere backdrops for parties (Sheridan 173). As said in a magazine published in 1925, Eastern Americans flooded Arizona in an attempt to “meet nature in her ruggedness and still live a ‘white-man’s life’” (Sheridan 187). The money to support their booze and hotels arrived in the form of Texas cattle, and Arizonan stockmen expanded their ranges rapidly (Sheridan 182). Unfortunately, this basis for business left Arizona’s ecosystems vulnerable for the second time in fifty years (Sheridan 182). The end of World War I in 1918 ushered in a national agricultural depression. The reduced demand, paired with a severe drought which decreased available fodder, resulted in an increase in cattle mortality (Sheridan 182). Exacerbated by the stubbornness and ignorance of capital-driven colonizers, this crisis further altered Anglo-Hispanic relations through the codification of water and property rights.

Federal Involvement and Discriminatory Practices (1934 - 2005)

Two federal projects marked the transformation of Arizona in the twentieth century. The first major change was the Taylor Grazing Act of 1934 (Sheridan 144). The act instituted mandatory fencing, effectively enclosing the remaining grasslands of Arizona (Sheridan 144). Cattlemen altered their perspective of the meat industry, decreasing herd size and selling their cattle by weight, not numbers (Sheridan 144). As anthropologist Thomas Sheridan proclaims, in that decade, “the era of the open range had come to an end” (Sheridan 144). The second policy began the construction of the Central Arizona Project (CAP), leading to the reallocation of water rights from the Gila River and the creation of the Groundwater Management Act (Alley & Alley 39). Signed into law by Governor Bruce Babbitt in 1980, the act regulated groundwater pumping for the first time in the state’s history (Alley & Alley 44). The introduction of water pricing, mitigated by CAP discounts, forced Arizonan farmers to participate in the water market and to monitor their consumption (Alley & Alley 44). While these measures recognized the impacts of economic activity on grasslands, the government failed to acknowledge the inequity of their regulations. Ranchers with the ability to manage externality costs continued to produce, and those without the capital to do so lost their livelihoods. Regardless of the condition of various classes of farmers, grazing lands, in the eyes of the state and federal government, were protected at the turn of the century.

Throughout this process of enclosure and commodification, Anglo citizens continued to benefit while Hispanic farmers formed a free labor pool. Shortly after the establishment of the Taylor Grazing Act, states began advocating for the Bracero program, an agreement with Mexico’s government which allowed American states to recruit temporary workers from Mexico. At the time, Arizona Congressman Carl Hayden advocated for the program, assuring the federal government that Mexicans would be restricted to agricultural labor and returned to their own country after a year of work (Plascencia 131). Bracero, derived from the Spanish word brazo, or arm, described the “body-men” of the economy (Camacho 63). The Mexicans involved in the program, as such, were valued only for the physical labor they could perform. The program codified the belief that Hispanic people were input factors for capitalist endeavors, or arms detached from the minds of migrants (Camacho 63). The workers were housed in converted chicken coops and warehouses, as well as former Japanese internment camps, keeping them close to industrial farms (Camacho 90). In Arizona, cotton labor camps utilized Mexican crew bosses to manage other workers (Mize 95). The bosses received slightly higher wages, but the growers continued to profit from the surplus without having to enact social control themselves (Mize 95). While the Bracero program was central to the development of Arizona’s cotton industry, the laborers were frequently used to bolster other farming giants (Plascencia 138). Hispanic people continued to exist and work on land which was once their own, unable to earn the right to conduct ranching activities themselves.

Following the termination of the Bracero program, some low-wage Hispanic laborers became sharecroppers but were often robbed of their fair share of water. One Hispanic farmer in Safford Valley recounted: “During times of drought; that’s when water bosses play favorites, and the Mexican farmers are the first to see their share of water reduced” (Vásquez-León 296). Furthermore, the Hispanic farmers’ production of chilies, white corn, and fruit, notably, not cash crops—prohibited them from gaining federal sup-

port (Vásquez-León 294). From 1995 to 2005, annual farm subsidy payments averaged almost three thousand dollars per Hispanic farmer, contrasting with an annual average of over eleven thousand dollars per Anglo farmer (Vásquez-León 294). In 2014, while thirty percent of Arizona’s population was Hispanic, only five percent of farm operators identified as Hispanic or Latino (National Center for Farmworker Health 6). Without access to water rights and federal subsidies, Hispanic farmers were excluded from the Arizonan grazing economy.

Dominant Narratives on Arizona Grasslands

Frontierism

As described by environmental historian William Cronon, frontierism imagines landscapes such as Arizona’s as empty of humans and reveals an American desire to control the wild (Cronon 76). Following their success in the Revolutionary War, Americans had already begun to dream of westward expansion and the creation of structured towns beyond the Appalachians. In letters to other founding fathers, Thomas Jefferson glorified the self-sufficient farm as the model for a democratic society which could expand into America’s “seemingly uninhabited and limitless environment” (Lewis 8). The concept is closely related to Manifest Destiny, the belief that Anglo-American expansion was justified and inescapable.

Arizona was subjected to these visions of supposedly open landscapes which called for strong, white men to establish true civilizations. The Baca Float, for example, was originally envisioned as an Eden which presented the opportunity for work. During the Department of the Interior vs. The Baca Float case hearing, Watts waxed poetic about “valleys harmonious with the music of a thousand sparkling hills, mountains shining with untold millions of mineral wealth,” all of which “[wooed] the hand of capital and labor to possess and use it” (Sheridan 163). The Calabasas Land and Mining Company, led by entrepreneur C.P. Sykes, subjected the Santa Cruz Valley to romantic visions of frontierism (Sheridan 125). The valley promised agricultural abundance and luxury, and Sykes began to herd investors across the continent (Sheridan 125). These visions of Arizona were more than speculation and the formation of fictitious landscapes—they were promises of the future Anglo colonizers could have if they took advantage of Manifest Destiny’s westward expansion.

Anglo-Americans’ confidence in their capabilities stemmed from the racist assumption that Spanish attempts of forming a civilization would surely be outshone by the product of American determination. John Goodwin, Arizona’s first governor, once announced to the legislative assembly: “The Aztec has been here, the Spaniard has retreated. The Anglo-Saxon stands secure. The tide of our civilization has no refluent wave, but rolls steadily over ocean and continent” (Knepper 138). So secure were the Anglo-Saxons in their occupation that they began to fabricate the image of the white cowboy. White settlers used ranches as a setting to relive a fictional lifestyle, reenacting cowboy activities in dude ranches. Their performances of ranching masked the contributions of favorable environmental conditions and cheap labor towards their profits (Johnson 438). Enshrined by figures such as President Roosevelt and novelist Maxwell Burt, the cowboy image became a source of unearned American nostalgia which ignored the original ranchers: the people of color who occupied the American Southwest prior to the Gadsden Purchase (Johnson 438, 439). The concept of frontierism bolstered the stream of capital which led to the two cattle collapses. The state could not simultaneously exist as a venue for capitalist conquest and as the origin of Mexican ranching practices, so the latter was erased by Anglo-American colonizers to suit their needs.

Ethnic Distancing

Throughout Arizona’s ranching eras, the formation of a Hispanic labor pool required viewing Hispanic people as other: foreign bodies. As previously described, “Hispanic” communities were the product of tribal, Spanish, and Mexican conflict and coexistence. Despite Hispanic Americans’ extensive history occupying Arizona’s rangeland, white leaders of agribusiness developed “foreignness” to label Mexicans as illegitimate and inferior (Ngai 132). As explained by historian Mae Ngai, “Casting Mexicans as foreign distanced them both from Euro-Americans culturally and from the Southwest as a spatial referent: it stripped Mexicans of the claim of belonging that they had had as natives, even as conquered natives” (Ngai 133). Additionally, Anglo-Americans took measures to segregate native communities from Mexicans, defining Mexicans as an inferior half-breed and speaking against racial mixing (Peña 77). The ethnic group, formed by narratives which supported the capitalist activities of Anglo settlers, suffered through economic and social segregation (Ngai 131). Whether born inside U.S. borders or brought in during the government-sanctioned Bracero program, Mexican-Americans were reduced to a “commodity function,” allowing Anglo-Americans to feel entitled to the land, labor, and capital that supported their ranches (Ngai 132). Within the framework built by white ranchers, Hispanic farmers had no historic claim over the land and water in Arizona, rendering countless individuals incapable of accumulating capital.

Existing as the “other” population within the United States, Hispanic people were molded into caricatures who not only faced legal barriers to capital but had few options other than manual labor for an occupation. Father Kino, Arizona’s original colonizer, believed that animal husbandry distinguished Christian communities from the “savage” hunter-gatherer nomads he encountered (Sayre 245). Spaniards used the term gente de razón (“people of reason”) to distinguish themselves as “non-Indians” (Sheridan 59). Framing Native people as lesser, uncivilized beings, Kino and other Spanish missionaries justified their appropriation of land, water, and cattle. These racist sentiments persisted during waves of American expansion, as seen in the records of nineteenth-century Anglo pioneers describing Hispanic settlements as a “mere pile of tumble-down adobe houses” or a “God-forsaken place...with a miserable population.” (Sheridan 111). In 1876, Arizona Governor Anson Safford discussed his belief that Mexicans were dangerous bandits, calling them “a scourge to civilization, a disgrace to humanity” and “wild beasts” who “should be swept from the face of the earth.” (Knepper 137). Twenty years later, depictions of Hispanic Americans focused on the perception that they were a lazy population. The Arizona Gazette supported the use of prison labor in 1896, stating: “Hundreds of Mexicans commit crimes on purpose to be incarcerated in that prison, where they get plenty to eat and no work” (Knepper 142). Imagining Hispanic people in these ways removed their agency, ultimately removing the Hispanic influence on Arizonan grasslands.

Conclusion

Against their will, Hispanic communities became whatever the dominant capitalist desired them to be to further primitive accumulation. At first, they were savage beasts who had to be tamed with new frameworks of ranching. Then, their perceived laziness forced Anglo-American leaders to push them into labor. Most importantly, however, they could be erased completely in order to ensure that land fell into the hands of Anglo-Americans. They were tokens, pawns to be pushed around in order to maximize the extraction of natural resources.

The way America remembers its past affects how the nation may shape its future. The television show Westworld depicts a futuristic theme park in which visitors may interact with stereotypical cowboy figures against the background of the Sonoran Desert. When speaking about the true history of this setting, a Westworld character reminisces, “The West was cruel, unjust, and chaotic, but there was a chance to chart your own course” (Nolan & Joy). This quote, like those found in writings from the nineteenth century, romanticizes the supposed potentiality of Arizona. However, that “chance” was only afforded to certain races. Today, Hispanic farmers face the historic barriers set in place since the advent of colonial grazing: unfavorable land deals, a history of unequal pay, and limited access to land and water rights. Forced to join a free labor pool, many farmers cannot compete against Anglo Arizonians for resources as environmental conditions continue to deteriorate. The recognition of vaqueros may allow for fairly assigned water rights designated based on prior appropriation, or, at least, return power to the original ranchers of Arizona to recount environmental history.

The entanglement of various races, classes, materialities, and narratives complicates the grasslands of Arizona. The impacts of various modes of enclosure, beginning with Civil War-era fences and continuing today with discriminatory farming credits, extend beyond their detrimental environmental effects. Each additional land use change furthered primitive accumulation, separating Hispanic farmers from the means of production—the land, water, and cattle of the state—and using their bodies to form a free labor pool. While actions such as the Gadsden Purchase and Taylor Grazing Act highlight contradictory understandings of property between localized and governmental actors, the resource conflict in Arizona exists because of racial category formation and differing concepts of ranching as a cultural practice. Primitive accumulation, enforced by international capitalists and the U.S. government, caused the racialization of farm labor in Arizona and, ultimately, the limited participation of Hispanic farmers in the state’s grazing culture.

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