Four months ago, Henry Barnes, mayor of Bayou La Batre, a beleaguered fishing village in southern Alabama, penned a plea to Donald Trump. The town, self-styled as Alabama’s Seafood Capital, is drowning under a deluge of cheap imported shrimp, which Barnes blames on “low and non-existent tariffs.” His letter, an appeal from a third-generation net-maker and Trump voter, invited the former president to witness the crisis firsthand. No reply has come, though Barnes remains optimistic: “He’ll eventually get around to us.”

The mayor’s hope now hinges on “Liberation Day,” as Trump has branded Wednesday, April 2, 2025. The administration is poised to unveil a tariff strategy, though its specifics remain murky. A White House official hinted that it targets imports “undermining American producers.” For Bayou La Batre’s shrimpers, who number among the town’s roughly 2,000 residents, the promise of protectionism offers a lifeline against a market swamped by foreign shrimp, which constitutes over 90% of U.S. consumption.

Tariffs as a Lifeline

Unlike their northern counterparts in the lobster trade, who fret over Canadian retaliation, U.S. shrimpers sell mostly domestically and thus crave tariffs to buoy prices. Imports have forced them to slash rates to compete, a pressure Barnes deems existential. Half the town works in the marine sector, and he estimates a 30% drop in tax revenue in recent years. The docks along Shell Boat Road, where the tang of salt and fuel hangs heavy, bear witness to this struggle—workers toil with blowtorches and ropes, eking out a living.

The malaise stretches beyond Alabama’s shores. NOAA Fisheries reports the value of the U.S. shrimp catch plummeted from $522 million in 2021 to $268 million in 2023. In February, Representative Clay Higgins of Louisiana urged Trump to slap tariffs as high as 100% on shrimp and crawfish imports. The administration has since fielded nearly 200 pleas from shrimpers and trade groups, including the Southern Shrimp Alliance, whose president, Steve Bosarge, insists tariffs aren’t punitive but a bid for fairness: “We just want to be at a level where we all can compete.”

The Cost of Cheap Shrimp

At the Integrity, a shrimp boat docked in Bayou La Batre, crew members divvy up pink shrimp after a haul from Key West. Co-owner Charlie Rodriguez, 46, laments, “A can of dog food is more expensive than a pound of shrimp.” Prices for medium headless shrimp in the Gulf have slid from $2.85 per pound four years ago to $1.64 last June, barely ticking up since. Fuel and maintenance costs gnaw at what little profit remains. “Everybody who has worked in this industry has felt pain,” Rodriguez says.

Jeremy Zirlott, a 52-year-old shrimper with three boats, shares the sentiment. At a shipyard, he surveys repairs on his vessel, the Kimberly Celeste, while a dog lounges in sanding grit. He recalls the pandemic-era surge of Ecuadorian farm-raised shrimp, which doubled exports to the U.S. between 2019 and 2023. Prices cratered as a result. “I call it the ‘chickenization’ of shrimp,’” Zirlott says. “It used to be a luxury item; now it’s one of the cheapest proteins.”

A Graying Fleet and Fading Hopes

In Bayou La Batre’s icehouses and trawlers, shrimping sustains livelihoods. At Graham Shrimp Company, workers sift through popcorn-sized shrimp, discarding shell fragments. Yet the industry’s veterans speak of a “graying of the fleet,” as aging captains retire with few successors. Alabama’s commercial shrimp license-holders dwindled from 1,423 in 1995 to 407 last year, per state data. Bosarge notes his daughter Leann persists in the trade, but many peers see their children abandon it: “These guys are working twice as hard as they used to for half the money.”

Last December, the International Trade Commission imposed tariffs on shrimp from Ecuador, India, Vietnam, and Indonesia for five years, but shrimpers deem them too feeble. They also seek stricter import testing for banned antibiotics and curbs on U.S. support for foreign aquaculture. In Venice, Louisiana, Acy Cooper, 64, of the Louisiana Shrimp Association, echoes the call for robust tariffs: “This industry is dying.” After a stint driving a barge last summer, he’s back shrimping, drawn by the sunrises and sunsets on the water. “It’s in my blood,” he says.

A Divided Industry and Uncertain Future

Not all in seafood welcome tariffs. Maine’s governor fears Canadian reprisals, while the National Fisheries Institute warns of inflation. Analyst John Sackton of Seafood Source cites consumer surveys showing a shift to cheaper groceries, sidelining seafood counters. “If this economic headwind follows through, seafood is going to be hurting a lot,” he says. Tariffs could thus be a double-edged sword, lifting shrimpers while squeezing broader demand.

For Bayou La Batre, relief might come from another quarter: a shipyard expansion promising 136 jobs. Standing on the porch of his net shop—a repurposed church—Barnes prays for better days. Wednesday’s tariff reveal looms as a potential turning point, though its impact remains as uncertain as the tides. For now, Alabama’s shrimpers wait, nets cast wide, hoping for a catch that sustains more than just their boats.