I Still Can’t Believe What Happened in Texas Tonight

Going into Tuesday night, all I could think was that the last time I felt this hopeful about the political future of my home state of Texas was when I was still in college. I was a student journalist at the University of Texas at Arlington, helping cover the exciting 2018 midterm elections. Beto O’Rourke had made a stop at the university when he was running against Sen. Ted Cruz. At the time, I was extremely hopeful O’Rourke could win. He was crisscrossing the state, hopping on Facebook Lives to showcase where he and his team were campaigning. He felt so close to us young students. I remember thinking that if we were ever going to see any positive change, it was going to be then. Then O’Rourke lost by 2.6 points. It may have been the closest a Democrat had come to winning a Senate or governor’s race in Texas in recent history, as my colleague Jim Newell puts it, but to me it felt as if any potential progress had been ripped from our hands. I vowed to not let myself get that excited again.

At the start of tonight, the energy and anxiety in my home in east Austin, just shy of 10 miles from where James Talarico’s watch party is taking place, was high. We wanted to believe, but we had been here plenty of times before. For a solid few hours, every other sentence between my roommate and I was “I want to throw up” and “Is this real?”

As the numbers started to come in, I was hesitant to go all in. That is, until I saw how Denton County was leaning. Early numbers showed that Talarico was leading Ken Paxton. That’s when I felt I could let myself breathe a deep sigh of relief. Denton County, one of Texas’ largest, has been historically red since the ’90s, although it’s gradually shifted leftward the past few elections.

Seeing early numbers roll in, thinking the blue wave was going to happen in Texas—tonight it wasn’t just a dream we’ll have to wake up from tomorrow. It’s our new reality. Watching Steve Kornacki on NBC call the Senate race between Talarico and Paxton felt like a dream, but it isn’t. It’s the first time a Democrat has won a U.S. Senate race in Texas since 1988, when Lloyd Bentsen won the seat.

Then, Gov. Greg Abbott conceded in the race against Gina Hinojosa, before any major network had even officially called the race. That’s when we started hearing popping sounds outside. Gunshots or fireworks? I guess we’ll never know for sure. But that sounds about right after we got two wins in one night in Austin, an overwhelmingly blue city.

I had been less hopeful about the governor’s race. If Abbott had gotten reelected, he would’ve been on track to be the state’s longest-serving governor. Instead, Rick Perry currently holds that title. And Hinojosa is the first Latina governor of Texas. And yes, I cried happy tears when I saw the news.

It’s the first time Texas has had a Democratic senator and governor in my lifetime. This is historic for a state whose demographic makeup is more than 40 percent Latino. For me, what feels so meaningful after what we’ve lived through over the past couple of years is that Talarico and Hinojosa have both been vocal about their opposition to ICE operations—especially the separation of children from family members who are detained.

In January, I went to a rally Talarico organized in east Austin; at the event, he spoke out against the detention of 5-year-old Liam Ramos and his father, who were being held at a Texas correctional facility. It was clear then that he would be one to watch during this election, but Hinojosa was also there, alongside Talarico. That’s when I started following her more closely.

Seeing a Latina become the governor of Texas, someone who believes in expanding women’s healthcare and supporting a pathway to citizenship, both issues personal to me, gives me hope that things will change in a state that’s long been controlled by Republican men.

My mom has been texting me all day, asking me how I felt, if Texas really was going to turn blue. As the hours went by, I could feel her getting more hopeful, mainly because of the increasing amount of emojis she was using. “Mija, it’s going to happen.” I was hesitant to believe it, but she was right.

My roommate and I never threw up. My mom ended her night with one more text: “Ya se escribió la historia en Texas.” History has been written in Texas.

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