Quinceañeras, Community, and the Power of Being Seen by Bobby Pulido in South Texas, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D. 5 de Mayo, 2026

Quinceañeras, Community, and the Power of Being Seen by Bobby Pulido in South Texas

by 

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

Feliz 5 de Mayo! Happy 5th of May! 🇲🇽 

A recent piece by Joe Holley appearing in the Washington Post asks a question that has quickly entered public debate: Is the shift in Hispanic voters permanent? It’s an important question—but perhaps not the most generative one.

What we are witnessing in South Texas is not a simple story of partisan movement, but a powerful reminder of how communities respond, adapt, and reassert themselves under changing political conditions. The congressional race between Monica De La Cruz and Bobby Pulido has captured national attention, but its deeper significance lies closer to home—in the everyday lives, relationships, and cultural practices of the Rio Grande Valley.

Yes, the district lines matter. Yes, national narratives matter. But what stands out most in this moment is something far more grounded: the enduring importance of connection. When quinceañeras become campaign stops, it is easy to reduce them to strategy. But that misses the point. These are not just events—they are intergenerational spaces of family, memory, aspiration, and belonging. To show up in those spaces is to recognize a community not as a voting bloc, but as a living, breathing social world.

And a beautiful one at that. 🩷

That kind of presence matters.

It matters especially in a time when policy decisions—particularly around immigration—are being felt in deeply personal ways. Across South Texas, families are navigating uncertainty, economic strain, and fear. Workplaces are disrupted. Schools feel the absence. Churches and community spaces carry a quiet tension. In this context, politics is not abstract. It is lived.

And yet, what also emerges in moments like this is resilience.

South Texas has long been a place where people hold multiple truths at once: pride in hard work and citizenship, deep cultural roots, strong family networks, and an unwavering belief in a better future. As Bobby Pulido himself has put it, many do not see themselves as poor, but as “broke”—a temporary condition tied to aspiration, not defeat. That distinction speaks volumes about how communities understand themselves and their possibilities.

So rather than asking whether voters have permanently “shifted,” we might ask a different question: What does it mean to truly engage a community on its own terms?

The answer, at least in part, is visible in this race. It looks like showing up. Listening. Being present in the spaces that matter. It means recognizing culture not as a prop, but as a foundation. And it means understanding that policy decisions—especially those that impact families and livelihoods—will always shape political response.

South Texas is not a mystery to be solved. It is a community to be understood.

And if this moment tells us anything, it is that when people feel seen, respected, and connected, they respond—not just politically, but collectively. The future of this region will not be determined by a single election cycle or a single narrative. It will be shaped by the ongoing relationship between communities and those who seek to represent them.

That story isn’t about permanence.

It’s about possibility.

Is the shift in Hispanic voters permanent? This Texas race could tell.

A Tejano singer challenges the Republican incumbent in a high-stakes House battle.

Campaign signs for Rep. Monica De La Cruz (R-Texas) and Democratic candidate Bobby Pulido
stand in Edinburg, Texas, on Feb. 10. (Eric Gay/AP)

By Joe Holley | April 29, 2026 | Washington Post

Joe Holley is based in Austin and writes about Texas politics.

It’s been a long time since South Texas politics has produced such an unusual and high-stakes congressional race as this year’s battle between a two-term Republican incumbent and her Democratic opponent, a charismatic political neophyte who’s accustomed to being in the public eye. In fact, you might have to go back nearly 80 years to find the campaign equivalent.

That would be the 1948 Democratic primary race for a U.S. Senate seat between a popular governor and a young congressman from the Texas Hill Country. The Democratic primary was the race in those days; Republicans were as rare as a South Texas snowstorm. With Gov. Coke Stevenson seeking to go to Washington, and a hyper-ambitious congressman named Lyndon B. Johnson swooping down from the Texas sky in a helicopter — the “Johnson City Windmill,” the Associated Press dubbed it — the hot race was in the headlines day after day during that long-ago summer.

A bitterly disputed result in the primary runoff kept it in the news for days after the election. Relying on sleight-of-hand shenanigans from a magician’s top hat of campaign dirty tricks, both campaigns searched for uncounted votes around the state. As Robert Caro reported in the second volume of his monumental LBJ biography, “Means of Ascent,” an election official in Jim Wells County — a South Texas ranching area — declared the numeral 7 in the 765 vote tallies of the county’s Box 13 should have been read as a 9 for a total of 965 votes. That tally helped put Johnson over the top — by 87 votes out of nearly a million cast.

No one’s charging dirty tricks this time — unless you consider mid-decade gerrymandering a dirty trick — but the 15th Congressional District contest between Rep. Monica De La Cruz and Democratic challenger Bobby Pulido will serve as a test case to determine whether the shocking 2024 swing of South Texas voters toward President Donald Trump was a fling on the part of fickle Democrats — the vast majority Hispanic — or a paradigm-shifting relationship.

Bobby Pulido, Democratic candidate for Texas’s 15th Congressional District, 

sings at a quinceañera in Edinburg, on March 14. (Gabriel V. Cardenas/AFP/Getty Images)

Although the young LBJ taught for a year in a predominantly Hispanic school in South Texas, it’s probably safe to say that he never made appearances at quinceañeras a staple of his campaign. (A quinceañera is a traditional Latin American celebration of a girl’s 15th birthday.) Pulido, a 53-year-old Tejano singer whose first album went platinum three decades ago, has never run for public office, but when he shows up at a quinceañera on a Saturday night, as he’s wont to do these days, it’s the equivalent of Bad Bunny dropping by.

“The knock against De La Cruz,” said Carlos Sanchez, a retired South Texas journalist and former Hidalgo County official, “is that she’s taking her orders from Washington, and they don’t have an appreciation for the culture.”

Rep. Monica De La Cruz (R-Texas) poses for a photo during the 2024 Republican National Convention in Milwaukee. (Jae C. Hong/AP)

Pulido’s quinceañera campaign was a serendipitous response to a tone-deaf comment from his opponent. After Pulido secured the Democratic nomination in March, De La Cruz posted a video saying that the election “isn’t about who you want performing at your niece’s quinceañera. It’s about who you trust with your family’s future.”

In an interview with the New Yorker, Pulido’s campaign manager, Abel Prado, recounted his immediate response: “Which gringo consultant wrote that?”

Prado had no trouble persuading the candidate to announce that he was happy to stop by quinceañeras in the district. He’s getting thousands of invitations, a campaign spokesperson told me, and is performing at as many as seven in one night. Fifteen-year-olds can’t vote, of course, but their parents and family friends can.

Pulido sings to Melanie Nieto, 15, during her quinceañera on March 14 in Edinburg. (Gabriel V. Cardenas/Getty Images)

Although the national spotlight is on the Latin Grammy Award winner, De La Cruz has one big advantage, aside from incumbency. The district she represents is part of what redistricting expert Richard Murray describes as “a masterfully gerrymandered” map drawn in 2021. It runs northward from the populous Rio Grande Valley, traditionally Democratic, through Republican-rich rural areas into the equally Republican outskirts of San Antonio.

De La Cruz may have owed her 2022 victory to that customized district, but in a rematch two years later with Democrat Michelle Vallejo, she cruised to a 14-point win— this time relying on a huge swing toward Republicans in Hidalgo County.

When Trump pressured Texas Republicans to redistrict yet again last year, in a scheme to pick up five new seats, the partisan makeup of De La Cruz’s district didn’t change much, but it includes residents who weren’t within the boundaries before. They may not be familiar with her, but they do know Pulido.

De La Cruz has another challenge. The Brownsville native, 51, ran in 2024 as a supporter of Trump’s crackdown on undocumented immigration. Among Hispanics in South Texas, many of whom are proud of becoming citizens “the right way,” the tough approach resonated.

But then came Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Images of agents brutalizing residents in Minneapolis and elsewhere, combined with accounts of Valley residents being rounded up, have had a disturbing effect on Hispanics throughout South Texas. Many are reluctant to send their kids to school, to drive to work, to venture out to shop or attend church.

Their apprehension has impacted local economies, particularly in agriculture, construction and health care, where they are mainstays. Construction projects are stalled; crops are going untended. “Restaurants are closing, either temporarily or permanently because of raids,” Sanchez told me.

Antonio Gamez Cuéllar, 18, walks out of a detention facility in Raymondville, Texas, on March 9, escorted by his attorneys, Efrén C. Olivares and Carlos M. Garcia, and De La Cruz, on right. (Valerie Gonzalez/AP)

De La Cruz has sought to moderate her position on immigration. She has proposed a new visa category that would allow employers in construction to hire foreign workers. She also introduced legislation that would make it easier to hire seasonal agricultural workers.

Pulido, who majored in political science and considers himself a conservative Democrat, has said the immigration debate in Washington ignores reality in border communities. “I believe we can secure the border without destroying families and our local economy in the process,” the Rio Grande Valley native says on his website.

The issues — whether border security, water or the economy — may be less important than Pulido’s charisma. The son of a farmworker, he seems to be connecting with working-class voters in the 15th.

“We’re very aspirational,” he told the “Latino Vote” podcast. “The people down here do not consider themselves poor. They consider themselves broke. And there’s a big distinction. Because when they’re poor, the image is ‘Well, we want you to help us out.’ But when you’re broke you say, ‘Tomorrow, I’m going to make it.’”

De La Cruz has tried to muddy her opponent’s image by highlighting a New York Post story saying that one of Pulido’s band members was a registered sex offender convicted of indecent contact with an 8-year-old girl. In a statement, Prado said Pulido was not aware of the musician’s criminal history and fired him as soon as he found out.

The De La Cruz campaign also has pointed to misogynistic comments on social media and off-color jokes Pulido has made during his career. So far, the charges don’t seem to be sticking.

If Pulido is victorious — of course, the election is still six months away — he’ll likely ride a blue wave sweeping the nation, including South Texas. Countless quinceañeras may be key, but he won’t need a lucky number 7 miraculously transformed into a 9.

When Faith Becomes Power: The Long History Behind Today’s Religious Politics of Controlling Culture in Texas, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

 When Faith Becomes Power: The Long History Behind Today’s Religious Politics of Controlling 

Culture in Texas

by

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

May 3, 2026

Before you read further, take a few minutes to watch this chilling snapshot of Texas history narrated by Drew McCoy on his Youtube channel, "Genetically Modified Skeptic." What it documents is not just “interesting history.” It is a chilling and largely buried account of state-sanctioned and vigilante violence in Texas—targeting German immigrants whose only real crime was thinking differently.

Many of these settlers were freethinkers, abolitionists, and skeptics of organized religion. For that, they were surveilled, harassed, and in some cases murdered. Their communities were policed not just for political loyalty, but for ideological and religious conformity. This is Texas history—but not the version that makes it into textbooks.

We should be asking why.

Because what this video reveals is not an anomaly. It is a pattern.

There’s a moment in the video where the past collapses into the present. What initially appears to be a critique of religion opens into something far more consequential: a genealogy of power. This is not simply about belief systems. It is about how dominant religious ideologies—particularly forms of conservative Protestantism—have historically aligned themselves with political authority to discipline populations, define belonging, and consolidate control over public life.

What begins as theology becomes governance. And what cannot be controlled becomes a threat—in this case, German “freethinkers,” white people stripped of belonging—exposed as not white enough when they refused ideological conformity.

At its core, the video underscores a critical truth: the modern religious right—also known today as “Christian nationalists”—did not emerge out of nowhere. It is the product of long-term, strategic organizing rooted in earlier histories of exclusion, enforcement, and at times, outright violence. From the suppression of dissenting religious communities to contemporary campaigns around “family values,” education, and national identity, the throughline is clear—power is maintained by controlling culture.

And culture is controlled, in large part, through education.

If that sounds abstract, consider what is happening right now in Texas.

At the K–12 level, battles over the State Board of Education’s social studies TEKS standards have become proxy wars over history itself—what counts as legitimate knowledge, whose stories are centered, and which truths are softened, distorted, or erased. The same impulse that once targeted German freethinkers now operates through curricular gatekeeping—policing how young people come to understand democracy, race, religion, and dissent.

At the university level, the struggle over Ethnic Studies—and more recently, the passage and implementation of SB 17 and SB 37—extends this project. Programs, scholarship, and entire fields that interrogate power, colonialism, and racial hierarchy are cast as threats to the state. Faculty governance is restructured. Academic freedom is narrowed. Knowledge itself is disciplined.

The tactics are strikingly familiar:

The manufacturing of moral panic.

 The targeting of educators, intellectuals, and marginalized communities.

The insistence that dominant norms are under siege.

These are not new strategies. They are recycled technologies of power.
And they work.

This is why the video matters now. Because the battles we are witnessing across Texas—over curriculum, DEI, academic freedom, and even the right to teach truthful histories—are not isolated skirmishes. They are the latest expression of a much longer project: the regulation of knowledge in the service of ideology.

In this light, policies like SB 17 and SB 37 do not stand alone. They are part of a broader architecture of governance that seeks to narrow what can be known, said, and taught. This is not simply policy—it is the institutionalization of a worldview.

A worldview that has always required enemies.

What Drew McCoy ultimately offers is not just historical recovery, but a warning. Movements built over generations do not disappear when challenged. They adapt. They rebrand. They relocate their battles—from churches to school boards, from pulpits to legislatures, from doctrine to policy.

And they continue.

So the question is not whether this history is relevant.

It is whether we are willing to confront what it reveals about the present.

Because once you recognize the pattern—the suppression of dissent, the policing of thought, the fusion of faith and state power—it becomes impossible to dismiss what is happening now as accidental or benign.

This is not new.

It is simply returning in a different form.

If this history troubles you, it should. And it should move you—not just to reflection, but to action. The next battleground is already set. The Texas State Board of Education will meet June 22–26, 2026, where proposed, deeply reactionary social studies standards will be debated—standards that will shape what millions of Texas students are allowed to know about their own history. 

Show up. Testify. Bear witness. Refuse the erasure. And stay connected to those organizing on the ground by following Social Studies Advocate on Instagram. The struggle over knowledge is not abstract. It is happening now—and it requires all of us.

Leaving MAGA Is Not a Moment—It’s a Process

Leaving MAGA Is Not a Moment—It’s a Process

I was genuinely heartened to learn about Leaving MAGA, an organization born not out of abstraction, but out of lived experience. That matters. Too often, our public conversations flatten people into categories—“us” and “them”—as if political identity were fixed, as if growth were impossible. What distinguishes this effort is its refusal to do that kind of work. It is rooted instead in empathy, in the recognition that people arrive where they are through complex pathways shaped by history, media, community, and lived realities.

There is something deeply important about the fact that this space does not traffic in shame. It does not judge people for having been part of something; rather, it understands that belonging is a powerful force. For many, movements like MAGA offered clarity, recognition, even a sense of purpose in a world that often feels unstable and unequal. If we are serious about addressing the conditions that produce political division, we have to be willing to engage that reality honestly—not dismissively.

What makes Leaving MAGA powerful is that it treats change as a process, not a performance. It recognizes that transformation rarely comes through confrontation alone, but through reflection, relationship, and the difficult work of asking new questions. In that sense, it offers something our broader political discourse too often lacks: a pathway grounded in dignity. And at a time when so much of our public life is organized around polarization and spectacle, that kind of work is not only rare—it is essential.

Here are some helpful links:

Youtube: Leaving Maga https://www.youtube.com/@LeavingMAGA

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LeavingMAGA

Website: leavingMAGA.org

-Angela Valenzuela

I was a devoted member of MAGA nation for seven years; it made me feel I was part of something important: a movement that was trying to save American democracy.

But starting in 2021, I realized I had been mistaken. It took me a full year to finally break away. During that time, I came to understand that MAGA is sustained by a series of myths that are intended to create perpetual feelings of desperation and panic.

Succumbing to these predatory myths does not mean you are unintelligent, weak, or lack good character and morals. I have a Bachelor’s degree; have been a working professional my entire life; am a family man; and consider myself a relatively honest and intelligent person. I think the same about you.

I understand the reasons you have for supporting MAGA. And I know many of us traveled different paths to get there. I gravitated to Donald Trump because I have always been suspicious of our two-party system, and I saw him as the right man at the right time.

I have a sense that some of you have quietly left MAGA already, or are increasingly regretful, confused and scared. All of this can be doubly upsetting, since some of your sincerely-held beliefs may have alienated you from friends and family. That certainly happened to me.

It’s perfectly OK to feel this way; leaving MAGA was a tumultuous roller coaster of a process for me. It may be one of the most difficult endeavors you embark upon. In the end, it brought me an inner peace, and a newfound clarity about what is happening in our beloved country.

I founded this organization, Leaving MAGA, because I wanted to create a safe, non-judgmental community for those who leave MAGA, as well as for those who are having doubts about, or remorse over, their devotion to Trump and MAGA.

Our Leaving MAGA community will celebrate how acknowledging mistakes empowers you and America.

It’s difficult for a democracy to function well when millions are estranged from those closest to them.

You do not deserve to have your anxieties about change exploited. You deserve to know the truth. And with Leaving MAGA, you don’t have to feel you would be alone if you leave the movement.

Leaving MAGA is possible. Recognizing that we were wrong, and acting on that knowledge, makes us all more invested in democracy and in the continued work of perfecting our union. Contact us here if you want to talk.

Sincerely, and humbly yours,

Rich

Undermining Our Future: Deportations, DACA, and Lost Potential, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

Undermining Our Future: Deportations, DACA, and Lost Potential

by

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

May 2, 2026

In a February 26, 2026 piece authored by Bazail-Eimil in Politico, we learn that
Kristi Noem and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) deported 86 DACA students despite longstanding protections, exposing a stark and troubling reality about the fragility of that promise. Sadly, by now, this number is certainly higher.

There is no other way to describe it: this is a betrayal. Young people brought to this country as children—many of whom have done everything asked of them—are now being detained and deported by the very system that once told them they could study, work, and build a future here.

These are not abstract policy decisions. They are lives disrupted. 

DACA recipients undergo repeated background checks, pursue education, and contribute to their communities. Yet they are now being swept up under shifting enforcement priorities, sometimes for minor or unproven infractions. I am aware that due to their assimilation in U.S. schools, many of them are not fully literate in the Spanish language—even if they can speak it—and, as a result, face uncertain futures in their parents' home countries. 

When our government callously discards a generation it helped raise and educate, it sends an unmistakable message: no amount of effort, achievement, or compliance is enough to guarantee belonging, and even those who play by the rules can be cast aside without warning.

Moreover, this is where the idea of “wasted talent"—a topic covered in the documentary I just posted—becomes painfully real. 

Many DACA recipients are students, professionals, and essential workers—individuals who have already invested in this country and are poised to give even more. Deporting them does not just harm them and their families personally, it strips the nation of skills, ambition, and potential that cannot easily be replaced. At a time when the U.S. depends on a strong, educated workforce, these actions undermine our own capacity to compete and thrive.

How does shooting ourselves in the foot like this make any sense?

They are exactly the kind of young people the U.S. claims to need—bilingual, educated, and ready to contribute in high-demand fields. Deporting them is not just a moral failure; it is a strategic one. It drains the country of human capital we have already helped develop, weakening our workforce at a time when global competition for talent is intensifying.

The consequences reach far beyond immigration policy. We are actively undermining our own future. A country that turns away its own investment in human potential is not just being short-sighted and dishonest about its expressed concerns regarding "return in investment" (ROI)—it is choosing decline. The loss is not abstract. It will be felt in classrooms, industries, and communities for years to come.

Policies that disproportionately target Latino communities and dismantle pathways like DACA echo a broader pattern that many see as rooted in white nationalist thinking about who deserves to be American. A country that embraces that logic is choosing division over shared prosperity, and risking a future diminished by its own decisions.

Reference

Bazail-Eimil, E. (2026, February 26). DHS admits it deported more than 80 DACA recipients, Politico. https://www.politico.com/news/2026/02/26/dhs-daca-immigration-noem-dreamers-00801921


DHS admits it deported more than 80 DACA recipients
“Dreamers” who came to the U.S. as children are protected under U.S. law, so deportations of them are unusual.

Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem said in her letter to senators that Deferred Action for
Childhood Arrivals “comes with no right or entitlement to remain in the United States indefinitely.”
| Caitlin O'Hara/AP

By Eric Bazail-Eimil / 02/26/2026 04:05 PM EST

Wasted Talent in Plain Sight: Universities, Latinos & Trump / Talento Desperdiciado: Universidades, Latinos y Trump / Noticias Telemundo

Friends: 

I encourage you to view this excellent Spanish-language documentary titled "Talento Desperdiciado: Universidades, Latinos y Trump," by Noticias Telemundo.

It looks at how colleges and universities are often seen as pathways to opportunity, yet that promise remains uneven for many Latina/o/x students.

Despite being one of the fastest-growing demographics in higher education, Latina/o/x students face persistent barriers such as financial hardship, limited institutional support, and immigration-related challenges. These obstacles prevent many from completing their degrees, resulting in a loss of potential that affects not only individuals but the nation as a whole.

The political climate during the Trump administration intensified these difficulties, particularly for students from undocumented or mixed-status families. Uncertainty surrounding immigration policies and programs like DACA created fear and instability, forcing students to balance their academic goals with concerns about their future in the country. This environment made it harder for many to stay focused, enrolled, and on track to graduate.

A big focus is on funding streams to Hispanic Serving Institutions (HSIs) that benefit not just Latina/o/x students, but the universities themselves so that they can truly serve this population. Regardless, the Trump administration reduced HSI funding, resulting in a mix of continued baseline funding alongside significant cuts to key grant programs, together with shifts toward “race-neutral” policies that reduce targeted support, and ongoing uncertainty in how funds were distributed. Taken together, this meant that while some funding technically remained, the overall effect was a weakening and destabilization of dedicated support for HSIs, that obviously serve large Latino populations.

Changes in funding and policy directly affect the availability of scholarships, grants, and support services that many students rely on. When these resources are reduced, educational gaps widen, making it even more difficult for underrepresented students to succeed.

In places like Texas, Florida, California, Arizona, New York, and Illinois, where Latina/o/x students represent a significant share of the college population, the stakes are especially high. Their success is closely tied to the state’s economic and social future. If these students are not supported, the consequences will extend far beyond individual campuses—impacting workforce readiness, economic growth, and civic life. 

The documentary makes clear that this is not just an issue of access, but of national interest: investing in Latino students is essential, and failing to do so is a deliberate choice to leave talent, innovation, and opportunity unrealized.

-Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.