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Showing posts with label viewpoint diversity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label viewpoint diversity. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 26, 2026

Stories behind UT’s now-closed ethnic and gender studies departments, by Lily Kepner, Staff WriterAug 24, 2026

Friends:

I want to call readers’ attention to an important and deeply concerning piece by Austin American-Statesman higher education reporter Lily Kepner, published August 24, 2026, documenting the histories—and now the disappearance as independent academic units—of four longstanding fields at the University of Texas at Austin: Mexican American and Latina/o Studies, African and African Diaspora Studies, American Studies, and Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies. Together, these departments encompassed 62 professors, six undergraduate majors, four graduate programs, and eight minors and certificates.

Kepner’s reporting is especially important because it documents the hugely successful People's Hearing on Threats to Diversity and Academic Freedom reminding us of what can easily be obscured by the bureaucratic language of “consolidation.” These departments did not simply appear on an organizational chart. They grew out of decades of student activism, community struggle, intellectual labor, institution-building, and demands that the university recognize histories and bodies of knowledge long excluded from the academy. As students returned to campus this fall, however, those independent departments ceased to exist, folded into the new Department of Social and Cultural Analysis.

That should concern all of us who care about academic freedom, intellectual diversity, shared governance, and the public mission of the university. Kepner’s piece helps us understand not only what UT has dismantled, but what generations of students, faculty, and community members had fought so hard to build.

-Angela Valenzuela

Stories behind UT’s now-closed ethnic and gender studies departments
By Lily Kepner,Staff WriterAug 24, 2026


Recent University of Texas graduate Dezaree Walker speaks on the second panel of invited speakers at the People’s Hearing on Threats to Diversity and Academic Freedom in Higher Education, a hearing organized by activists for the Texas Legislative Progressive Caucus to hear from students and educators about policies impacting higher education at the Robert E. Johnson Conference Center in Austin, Aug. 12, 2026.Sara Diggins/Austin American-Statesman

As Longhorns return to campus Monday, decades-old ethnic and gender studies departments will no longer exist.

Six months ago, University of Texas President Jim Davis announced that the university would consolidate ethnic and gender studies programs in the College of Liberal Arts into the new Department of Social and Cultural Analysis. This summer, the department names were scraped from their glass doors, chairs lost their titles and supporting staff were relocated or let go.



University of Texas professor of educational leadership and policy Angela Valenzuela listens to the first panel of speakers at the People’s Hearing on Threats to Diversity and Academic Freedom in Higher Education, a hearing organized by activists for the Texas Legislative Progressive Caucus to hear from students and educators about policies impacting higher education at the Robert E. Johnson Conference Center in Austin, Aug. 12, 2026.

The consolidation angered some faculty and students who believe the shift ignores the decades-long history of the departments and the value they offer students and the city of Austin. Faculty fear it will make it harder to hire, limit courses and resources and restrain the fields of study.

The four closed departments — Mexican American and Latina/o Studies; African and African Diaspora Studies; Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies; and American Studies — encompassed 62 professors, six majors, four graduate programs, and eight minors and certificates. Last year, the departments had a combined 307 students enrolled in undergraduate majors, according to UT data. Dozens more pursued minor, graduate and doctoral programs, according to records used by the consolidation committee.

Davis has said the university is not cutting faculty or resources as part of the consolidation. But he recently announced sweeping changes to strictly define the core curriculum that all UT students have to take. Previously, courses in the closed departments counted toward the core, but under Davis’s changes, social and cultural analysis offerings may no longer be eligible, limiting student enrollment.

The core curriculum changes and the consolidation could affect the future of gender and ethnic studies as the university invests in fields favored by conservatives.

The American-Statesman spent the last several months talking to the consolidated departments’ founders, faculty and students to understand the role they had in teaching and producing knowledge in the state. What emerged was the story of four departments born out of successful student activism and distinguished by a connection to the local community, small class sizes and interdisciplinary work and research.



Martha Cotera, a founder of UT Center For Mexican American Studies, at her home in Austin on Tuesday, March 24, 2026. Jay Janner/Austin American-Statesman

Mexican American and Latina/o Studies

During UT’s spring break, Martha Cotera, 88, stacked nonperishable food and old books in a bin by her front door for UT’s Mexican American and Latina/o Studies Department.

She would take those donations to the department’s food pantry at its UT home in the Gordon White Building. There, the department housed a library, research institute and center that worked with community activists like Cotera to study pressing problems affecting the Chicano community in Austin, from a lack of healthcare options to affordability.

Cotera began advocating for the department as an activist and Texas librarian in the 1960s. There hasn’t been a month in the nearly six decades since when she’s lost touch with the field’s advocates on campus.

It grew from an idea that student advocates had in 1968 to become a department, research institute and center offering graduate and undergraduate degrees with 14 professors on staff. As UT folds it into a larger academic unit, Cotera fears all those resources could be at risk.

In the 1960s, without a dedicated center, department or faculty to study Mexican-American life, Latinos were only spoken about at UT in relation to folklore, Cotera said. The history of Mexicans and Latinos was excluded from other fields like history, education and sociology. The lack of research and education affected Mexican Americans in Austin who didn’t have access to in-depth information about the policies and biases that affected their lives, Cotera said.

“We were always going to be stuck in that corner,” Cotera said. “It was very important that we get out of the folklore realm into multi-disciplinary studies in a serious way by looking at our community, by doing research in our community.”

Before the Civil Rights Act of 1964, white Texans made up the majority of students at UT. When more Mexican American and Black students enrolled, student activists began pushing for classes and research that reflected their experiences.

In the late 1960s, UT responded by creating an ethnic studies program. By 1970, the university launched centers dedicated to Mexican American Studies and African American Studies.insert Diosa

The Mexican American Studies center had an impact across the university. After the Supreme Court struck down affirmative action at UT in 1996, David Montejano, the center’s former director, advocated for a race-neutral approach to improving student diversity. He and other center faculty met with state senators. Their efforts were key in drafting the top 10% rule, which gave all Texas high schoolers in the top 10% of their class admission to any state university.


Cotera served on the center’s board, which invested in researching Latino communities in Austin, developing a research archive in the Benson Latin American Collection at UT libraries, an archive of Mexican veterans and an annual conference for Latino scholars. Even as research from center-affiliated faculty grew, advocates continued to push for a department, which would allow the university to hire full-time professors and dedicate more funding.

In 2014, Cotera got her wish, and UT launched the Mexican American and Latino/a Studies Department. The new status allowed program offerings to grow with an undergraduate major and doctoral program.

Paul Del Bosque, 44, recalls hearing about the center’s legacy before he joined the department as a student.
“As a child, I remember hearing about the legendary faculty and the scholarship that was coming out of Chicano studies at UT,” said Del Bosque, who later pursued his master’s and doctoral degrees in the department.


Now in his fifth year of his doctorate program, he researches how hurricanes impact high-poverty communities in South Texas and on the border, contributing Texas-focused scholarship to a Latino community. When he finishes his dissertation in 2028, he plans to pursue a tenure-track job teaching Texas history or environmental humanities.

Reflecting on her beloved department closing, Cotera wiped away tears as she thought about students and the ongoing research into policing, the border and history that could be at risk without UT resources.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she said.

Two days after the consolidation was announced, the
Civitas Institute, UT’s conservative think tank created by the Texas Legislature in 2021, hosted a symposium titled “America’s Latino Future.” UT’s Mexican American and Latino/a Studies Department, located across the street from where the institute is housed, was not invited to participate, its former chair confirmed.

Cotera attended the event and listened as researchers discussed the economic importance of Latinos and the need for more research into Latino communities.

“I said ‘Thank you very much, you made the case,’” she said.
=
Ever since the department changes were announced, community activists have gathered at Cotera’s house to discuss how to preserve Mexican American history and education in Austin and fight the administration’s “erasure” of the field at UT.


The founders of the Mexican American center have stayed together in an informal coalition for the past five decades to ensure it remains funded and supported by UT and to help students find internships and housing, Cotera said. That work will continue.

“This is a grassroots effort. Cut it off at the top,” Cotera said. “The roots will remain.”
Attendees listen at the People’s Hearing on Threats to Diversity and Academic Freedom in Higher Education, a hearing organized by activists for the Texas Legislative Progressive Caucus to hear from students and educators about policies impacting higher education at the Robert E. Johnson Conference Center in Austin, Aug. 12, 2026.Sara Diggins/Austin American-Statesman

UT’s African and African Diaspora Studies Department was the largest Black studies department in the nation.

With 26 faculty, an institute for urban policy research and analysis, a research center, a doctoral program, two majors and art galleries, the department was a national leader.

When it became a department in 2010, it was part of then-President William C. Power’s vision to expand education about diverse topics across campus, grow its enrollment of nonwhite students, meet community demand and elevate the national prominence of the university, said Cherise Smith, a former department chair.

The faculty were successful in living up to that vision: The department is known across the country and world, attracting international students and serving as a model for Stanford University when it built its own department, Smith said. UT’s faculty researched education and the relationship between slavery and capitalism while having a special focus on African American art and performance.

For 50 years the field has grown and blossomed at UT, attracting students who also study fashion, natural sciences, engineering, business and education, Smith said.

“There was always an assumption that we would be training all of the students who came to UT,” Smith said. “Not a particular racial or ethnic group.”

It took a while to get to that point. After a UT student petition advocating for classes that reflected the Black experience attracted more than 1,300 signatures, the first class in Black history was offered in 1968, according to Texas archives. The university launched an ethnic studies program the following year.

In 1970, the university opened the center now known as the John L. Warfield Center for African and African American Studies, which pioneered research and new academic avenues for students. In response to student advocacy in 2002, UT began offering a certificate in Yoruba Studies, an indigenous African language that students feared would go extinct without continued education and preservation.

The local community has been central to the center’s mission. Faculty researched why Black Austinites were leaving the city and the impact of historic segregation in Austin, Smith said. They also created public resources like a KUT podcast called “Black Austin Matters” that highlights prominent community members, including Talib Abdullahi, the founder of Black History Bike Ride, and Chi Ndika, founder of Luv Fats Ice Cream.

Faculty have also studied how African heritage intersects with a variety of fields, from art — a particular strength of the department — to sports, incarceration and queer communities and share their results in community talks open to all through the Warfield Center.

“I don’t just research out of intellectual curiosity, I research to change the world,” said Ashanté Reese, a professor of anthropology in the department.

Classes are grounded in faculty expertise and contemporary subjects, such as a course on power and money in U.S. education policy taught by Kevin Foster, a professor who serves as a trustee for the Austin Independent School District.

Though the courses, programs and degrees will remain in the new social analysis department, the decision to consolidate without consulting professors felt like an effort to control “whose history gets told, and how and when,” not an honest reevaluation of resources, Reese said.

“We might be a different name. We might need to reimagine and dream,” Reese said. But it will continue, she said. “Black Studies was never about institutional recognition.”

American Studies




University of Texas Professor Lauren Gutterman, the former chair of UT's American Studies Department, smiles as she greets fellow educators at the People’s Hearing on Threats to Diversity and Academic Freedom in Higher Education, a hearing organized by activists for the Texas Legislative Progressive Caucus to hear from students and educators about policies impacting higher education at the Robert E. Johnson Conference Center in Austin, Aug. 12, 2026.Sara Diggins/Austin American-Statesman

UT has offered American Studies courses since 1941, when a founding scholar of the field began teaching at the Forty Acres, said Lauren Gutterman, the former department chair. The field focuses on “cultural, social and intellectual life” in the U.S. through a variety of lenses, including economic, political, historical and environmental research.

American Studies has operated as its own department at UT since 1998, also supporting an Urban Studies major, in which students study the history and creation of urban life. UT’s department — one of 150 in the nation and 28 that offer a doctoral program — is known for having UT’s first Pulitzer Prize-winning history faculty member in 1967.

There were more than 130 undergraduate students and 30 doctoral students in American Studies at UT last spring, Gutterman said. Students take classes on American sports and culture, North American borders, the history of religion and digital cultures.

“What students find in American Studies is an opportunity to think about what the United States is, what it means to be a part of this nation, who we’re taught belongs here, who we’re taught does not belong,” Gutterman said.

Opponents have found flaws with the field for being overly critical of the country. Though not addressing the department by name, UT Provost William Inboden wrote in a 2025 National Affairs essay that American history courses offer an “imbalanced” view of the U.S.

Gutterman said, however, that American Studies serves a crucial role, allowing students to explore any aspect of American history, culture and politics through a wide range of methodologies, from mapping to digital archives.

“Critical engagement with American history and culture actually helps students to become better citizens,” Gutterman said. “You (learn about) contemporary issues that are happening and to take action about the issues.”

Alumni include Pulitzer Prize winner and book critic Gail Caldwell and former Austin Mayor Pro Tem Kathy Tovo, as well as doctors, attorneys, professors and college presidents like Laura Cawley, who leads Bethany College, a liberal arts school in Kansas. Both honors programs in the College of Liberal Arts are led by American Studies professors.
Iván Chaar López, a University of Texas scholar on border surveillance, in his office in Austin, Wednesday, July 15, 2026. Amid concerns UT is quieting controversial fields, Chaar López fears the president violated his academic freedom in denying him tenure.Mikala Compton/Austin American-Statesman.

Still, as UT reorganizes its core curriculum requirements and pours resources into Western civilization and civic education, department officials say American Studies is being sidelined. The department is already bracing to lose faculty in the coming year.

American Studies professor Iván Chaar López, whose research is critical of U.S. border surveillance, was denied tenure by a presidential committee last year without an explanation. Because of an up-or-out policy that forces professors denied tenure to leave UT, he will depart the Forty Acres in 2027.

No other professor in the four consolidated departments was up for tenure last year, but the denial made Gutterman fearful that the university is overlooking the merits of her field.

This year, faculty will continue teaching courses like Oceanic Histories, Jews of the U.S., Canada and Latin America, Urban Unrest and Asian Americans in the South, she said.

“Even if our department is closed by the university, American Studies as a field, our research, our teaching and the intellectual, personal community that we have built is not going away,” Gutterman said.

Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies


Rep. Lulu Flores, D-Austin, asks questions of the first panel of invited speakers the People’s Hearing on Threats to Diversity and Academic Freedom in Higher Education, a hearing organized by activists for the Texas Legislative Progressive Caucus to hear from students and educators about policies impacting higher education at the Robert E. Johnson Conference Center in Austin, Aug. 12, 2026.Sara Diggins/Austin American-Statesman

The newest department of the four consolidated, the Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies Department, formed in 2023 after operating as a center since 1979. Its near 50-year history began with students pushing for an education that included all people.

In more than a dozen interviews with alumni, current students, professors and recent staff hires, the women’s and gender studies community defended the program as far-reaching and skills-based, leading students to meaningful careers and lives.

Faculty and courses have focused on preserving untold history and examining how key issues from health to literature and information studies affect people differently based on sexuality, race, disability and gender.

“Gender studies, ethnic studies are actual disciplines born out of the need that wasn’t necessarily being met,” said Nicole Ramsey, a women’s and gender studies professor. “If you are to have knowledge about the world, it doesn’t make sense to only do that through certain frameworks that don’t include everybody. It could just never work.”

Alumni — including a nonprofit founder, therapist, professor and a Rhodes Scholar — said their courses helped them empathetically engage with people with different opinions and personal backgrounds. Department courses on women’s reproductive health, LGBTQ history and literature written by women gave them critical thinking skills and new perspectives that shaped their careers.

“It feels like it’s radical knowledge,” said Neha Yawalkar, who graduated from UT in 2025 with a women’s and gender studies minor.

Yawalkar said her minor taught her how gender affects marketing, engineering and healthcare. A fertility and reproduction course helped her see how she could pursue her passions through healthcare while her South Asian migration course taught her to “critique and read with nuance.” An LGBTQ course showed her how queer people historically struggled to find inclusive care.


University of Texas Women’s Gender and Sexuality Studies coordinator Jackie Salcedo, left, department manager Grayson Hunt, freshman student Sofia Gomez and director Lisa Moore in Burdine Hall, Feb. 18, 2026 after UT President Jim Davis announced plans to consolidate ethnic and gender studies into a new department.Sara Diggins/Austin American-Statesman

Isaac James, who graduated in 2022 with a minor in LGBTQ studies and major in government, said the program showed him how he could serve his community beyond politics and taught him about the rights queer people have fought for. He cofounded OutVote in 2024, an organization focused on engaging LGBTQ youth in politics, after seeing his peers feel unrepresented in government.

“I really do think without LGBTQ studies, I would not have been able to obtain the same professional and academic success,” said James, who became a Rhodes Scholar at the University of Oxford after graduation.

Becoming a department gave women’s and gender studies the ability to hire full-time faculty, a chair to speak directly to the dean of the College of Liberal Arts and more money for events, marketing and staff. But three years after the department’s founding, Davis’ consolidation announcement eliminated the department’s standalone status as conservative state lawmakers exerted pressure on university leaders to tamp down on courses focused on gender or LGBTQ topics.

Lisa Moore, a former chair of the department, began her career at UT in the 1990s as an English and women’s and gender studies professor. She fears she will end it labeled as a professor of “social and cultural analysis” — a field she doesn’t think has merit outside of UT.

Moore said Davis has not responded to her messages inviting the UT president to her classes or to meet with her about the department. She knows that the field she’s spent more than 30 years studying has “already transformed” the country’s understanding of itself.

“What happens in our classrooms is something that I would love our harshest critics to be able to witness,” Moore said.


Lily Kepner
Higher Education Reporter

Lily Kepner started at the American-Statesman in October 2023. She has appeared on BBC, NPR and Texas Standard to talk about her coverage, which has spanned the impact of state laws and politics on the University of Texas, pro-Palestinian protests, free speech, the anti-DEI ban, LGBTQ student belonging and more. Kepner graduated with honors from Boston University's College of Communication in 2023, where she received the college's highest awards for writing and journalism leadership and led the award-winning student newspaper as Editor-in-Chief. In her time with the American-Statesman, she contributed to reporting that won an Edward R Murrow Award for breaking news, won the School Bell Award for Outstanding Feature from Texas State Teachers Association, and Critics Choice for Best of Austin in the Austin Chronicle. Previously, she has been published in USA Today, The Boston Globe, The National Catholic Reporter and GBH. Kepner is passionate about accountability and service journalism and encourages anyone to reach out to her to tell their story or share a tip.

Saturday, July 18, 2026

What Florida's Illegitimate "Stop WOKE Act" Ruling means for Texas, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

What Florida's Illegitimate "Stop WOKE Act" Ruling means for Texas

by 

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

July 18, 2026

The federal courts have now said plainly what many educators, students, civil rights advocates, and defenders of academic freedom have been saying for years: the state cannot turn the university classroom into an ideological command center.

As reported by Politico, a divided panel of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit struck down key higher education provisions of Florida’s so-called Stop WOKE Act, the 2022 law championed by Governor Ron DeSantis to restrict how race, gender, white privilege, systemic racism, sexism, and related concepts could be taught in public colleges and universities. The ruling is a major blow to one of the signature laws in the anti-DEI, anti-“woke,” anti-academic freedom playbook.

The court’s language is striking. Judge Britt Grant, a Trump appointee, called Florida’s theory a “breathtaking assertion of power to ban unpopular ideas from public discourse” in the very classrooms where students are supposed to wrestle with difficult ideas (Atterbury, 2026). The court also stated that, “If the First Amendment offers any boundary of protection at all for public university classrooms, this statute crosses it" (Atterbury, 2026).

That language matters. It refuses the cynical argument that because professors at public universities are paid by the state, their teaching becomes government speech. In other words, the state cannot simply say: “We pay your salary, therefore we own your mind, your syllabus, your interpretation of history, and your professional judgment.”

This is not a small legal technicality. It is a profound defense of the university as a space of inquiry.

The Stop WOKE Act sought to regulate not simply what could be said, but which perspectives could be made available to students. It targeted concepts involving racism, sexism, privilege, unconscious bias, and systemic inequality, while imposing serious institutional and employment penalties. 

The Legal Defense Fund noted that violations carried potentially severe consequences: universities could lose access to state performance funding, while individual instructors could face dismissal. The ACLU’s case describes the law as a classroom censorship measure that severely restricted educators and students from learning and talking about race and gender in higher education classrooms.

This ruling therefore speaks beyond Florida. It speaks to a broader authoritarian impulse in state policy: the effort to use legislative power to chill teaching, narrow curriculum, punish dissent, intimidate faculty, and erase the histories and lived experiences of Black, Latinx, Indigenous, Asian American, LGBTQIA+, women, immigrant, and other marginalized communities.

For Florida, the decision is a repudiation of a governing strategy that has treated public higher education as a battlefield for culture war politics. The state’s attack on “wokeness” has not been about intellectual openness. It has been about control—control over language, history, curriculum, faculty governance, hiring, student support, and institutional mission.

Florida has become a testing ground for this politics, from the Stop WOKE Act to the hostile takeover of New College of Florida. The goal has been to remake public higher education not as a democratic public good, but as an instrument of state ideology. The Eleventh Circuit ruling interrupts that project and reaffirms that the First Amendment still has something to say when politicians attempt to police the boundaries of knowledge.

For Texas, the ruling should be read carefully.

Texas’ SB 17 is not identical to Florida’s Stop WOKE Act. SB 17 focuses primarily on banning diversity, equity, and inclusion offices, programs, required DEI statements, and certain DEI-related activities at public institutions of higher education. The University of Texas at Austin describes SB 17 as a law that prohibits public institutions from engaging in specified DEI activities, effective January 1, 2024. The enrolled bill itself amends the Texas Education Code to regulate “diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives at public institutions of higher education.”

Still, the family resemblance is unmistakable. Florida’s law and Texas’ law emerge from the same national movement. Both are premised on the idea that state legislatures should decide which institutional commitments to equity are permissible, which histories may be taught without fear, which student supports may exist, and which words become suspect.

The consequences of SB 17 were already severe within months of its implementation. On May 14, 2024, then–University of Texas System Chancellor J. B. Milliken testified before the Texas Senate Subcommittee on Higher Education that UT institutions had closed 21 DEI offices, eliminated 311 full- and part-time positions that had previously focused on DEI, and canceled 681 contracts, programs, and trainings. Milliken estimated that more than $25 million had been saved or redirected to other university purposes. These figures came from Milliken’s legislative testimony—not from a separate UT System report—and were documented in the official Senate hearing and contemporary reporting by KUT (Fogel, 2026).

The Florida ruling does not automatically invalidate Texas’ SB 17. But it does send an unmistakable warning: when state policy crosses from governance into viewpoint discrimination, when it chills academic speech, when it punishes institutions or educators for making certain ideas available to students, it enters dangerous constitutional territory.

This is especially important because anti-DEI laws rarely operate only through their text. They operate through fear. They invite over-compliance. They encourage administrators to preemptively close programs, cancel events, rename offices, erase webpages, avoid words, discipline faculty, and interpret the law more broadly than required in order to avoid political retaliation.

That is how censorship works in practice. It does not always arrive as a direct order. Sometimes it arrives as a memo, a compliance training, a legislative hearing, a threat to funding, or a phone call from someone who “just wants to make sure” the university understands the political climate.

The Eleventh Circuit’s ruling pushes back against this climate of fear. It reminds us that public universities are not simply agencies of the state. They are institutions with a democratic function: to cultivate inquiry, foster debate, preserve knowledge, produce research, and educate students capable of thinking critically about the world they inherit.

That democratic function is especially urgent in states like Florida and Texas, where demographic change, racial inequality, attacks on public education, and struggles over curriculum are deeply intertwined. The fight over DEI is not only about university bureaucracy or so-called "viewpoint diversity." It is about whether public institutions will tell the truth about our histories and prepare students to build a more just future.

The deeper question is who gets to decide what students are allowed to know?

If politicians can ban disfavored ideas in the name of “anti-discrimination,” then anti-discrimination law itself is turned upside down. Rather than protecting people from exclusion, it becomes a weapon for suppressing conversations about exclusion. Rather than expanding freedom, it narrows the intellectual life of the university.

That is why this ruling matters. It reasserts the university as a place where difficult ideas may be confronted rather than prohibited, where professors exercise professional judgment rather than serve as instruments of the state, and where education prepares students for democratic thought—not political obedience.

For Florida, the ruling is a devastating rebuke to the DeSantis administration’s effort to govern higher education through ideological prohibition.

For Texas, it is a cautionary signal that laws targeting DEI, Ethnic Studies, gender studies, race-conscious inquiry, and academic freedom may face serious constitutional scrutiny when they attempt to control speech, viewpoint, curriculum, or the conditions under which faculty and students pursue knowledge.

And for the rest of us, it is a reminder that higher education must be defended not only as a workplace or a credentialing system, but as one of the remaining public spaces where democracy can still be practiced.

This decision does not end the struggle. Florida may continue to litigate. Texas lawmakers may continue to expand their attacks. Other states may refine their strategies. But the ruling gives educators, students, civil rights groups, faculty organizations, and communities a powerful language of resistance.

A university worthy of the name cannot be built on state-mandated silence.

It must be a place where students can ask hard questions, where faculty can teach with integrity, where histories of racism and resistance are not erased, and where the freedom to learn is understood as inseparable from the freedom to teach.

That is the meaning of this ruling. And that is why it matters far beyond Florida. 

There's a lot more to the policy context, of course, with other bills like SB 12 and SB 37 at play, the former restricting instruction, programming, student support, and educator conduct in K–12 schools, and the latter impacting faculty governance, changing controls curricula and academic programs. The cumulative effect is a vertically integrated system of ideological control stretching from prekindergarten through graduate education.

References

Atterbury, A. (2026, July 7). “Breathtaking assertion of power”: Appeals court slams door on Florida “Stop WOKE” law championed by DeSantis,Politicohttps://www.politico.com/news/2026/07/07/florida-desantis-stop-woke-law-ruling-00988728

Fogel, B. (2024, May 14). Are public universities doing enough to comply with Texas’ DEI ban? Lawmakers will decide, KUT 90.5https://www.kut.org/education/2024-05-14/are-public-universities-doing-enough-to-comply-with-texas-dei-ban-lawmakers-will-decide

Pernell v. Commissioner of the Florida State Board of Education, Nos. 22-13992, 22-13994 & 23-10616 (11th Cir. July 7, 2026). https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/appellate-courts/ca11/23-10616/23-10616-2026-07-07.html

Texas Legislature. (2025). Senate Bill 12, 89th Legislature, Regular Session: Enrolled version.

Texas Legislature. (2025). Senate Bill 37, 89th Legislature, Regular Session: Enrolled version.

Texas Senate, Subcommittee on Higher Education. (2024, May 14). Senate Subcommittee on Higher Education [Video recording].


‘Breathtaking assertion of power’: Appeals court slams door on Florida ‘Stop Woke’ law championed by DeSantis

The decision from a divided 2-1 panel of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 11th Circuit is a devastating, possibly final blow to the so-called Stop WOKE act touted by the DeSantis administration.



Florida’s Legislature approved the “anti-woke” legislation touted by Gov. Ron DeSantis in 2022. The state, though, has been blocked from enforcing the policies ever since. | Lynne Sladky/AP

By Andrew Atterbury

07/07/2026 02:25 PM EDT|Updated: 07/07/2026 05:35 PM EDT

TALLAHASSEE, Florida — Florida’s anti-woke law restricting how lessons on race and gender can be taught in colleges and universities — policies championed by Gov. Ron DeSantis — violates the free speech rights of professors, a panel of appeals court judges ruled Tuesday.

The decision from a divided 2-1 panel of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 11th Circuit is a devastating, possibly final blow to the so-called Stop WOKE Act touted by the DeSantis administration. The judges affirmed a 2022 decision that labeled Florida’s rules as “positively dystopian,” doubling down by arguing the law is “a breathtaking assertion of power to ban unpopular ideas from public discourse” in the very classroom space where students are supposed to “puzzle through ideas that are good and bad, easy and hard, ideally getting ever closer to the truth.”

“If the First Amendment offers any boundary of protection at all for public university classrooms, this statute crosses it,” Judge Britt C. Grant, an appointee of President Donald Trump, wrote in the opinion.

Grant was joined by Judge Charles R. Wilson, a Bill Clinton appointee, in the ruling. But another Trump-appointed judge, Barbara Lagoa — a former Florida Supreme Court judge picked by DeSantis — wrote a striking dissent of the decision, contending the First Amendment “does not compel all viewpoints to be worthy of state-sponsored endorsement.”

“This panel is not free to rewrite precedent simply because we dislike where it leads,” Lagoa wrote.

Florida’s Republican-led Legislature approved the “anti-woke” legislation, H.B. 7, or the Individual Freedom Act, in 2022. The state, though, has been blocked from enforcing the policies as it has been fighting in court ever since.

Directly inspired by DeSantis, the law expanded Florida’s anti-discrimination laws to prohibit schools and companies from leveling guilt or blame to students and employees based on race or sex. As such, it targets lessons over issues like “white privilege” by creating new protections for students and workers, including that a person should not be instructed to “feel guilt, anguish, or any other form of psychological distress” due to their race, color, sex or national origin.

The other portion of Florida’s law restricting what DeSantis called “woke” workplace trainings faced a similar fate after also being rejected by an 11th Circuit panel. And, notably, it was Grant who wrote that opinion, decrying the DeSantis-backed policies as “the greatest First Amendment sin” for penalizing certain viewpoints on the job.

Tuesday’s higher education ruling was triggered by two lawsuits that have been fighting the Stop WOKE law for years. One of the lawsuits was filed by Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, a nonprofit free speech group, on behalf of a University of South Florida professor, student, and student group, while the other was brought by the ACLU, ACLU of Florida and Legal Defense Fund on behalf of students and educators.

Both challenges alleged that the legislation pushed by DeSantis violates their freedom of speech, evidenced by how it could restrict lessons on critical topics, claiming it’s a discriminatory classroom censorship law that severely restricts how race and gender can be taught and talked about in schools.

“This ruling sets a strong precedent that higher education cannot be limited to the whims of politicians,” Leah Watson, senior staff attorney with the ACLU’s Racial Justice Program, said in a statement Tuesday.

FIRE, meanwhile, also celebrated the decision and its implications for higher education:

“Today’s important decision means that college remains a place where professors and students are allowed to debate controversial topics — even if politicians disagree with them,” said Greg H. Greubel, FIRE senior attorney.

The DeSantis administration did not immediately respond to a request for comment about the ruling. State Attorney General James Uthmeier, though, did throw praise at Lagoa.

“Barbara Lagoa may be the best jurist in our country,” Uthmeier said on social media. “She should be on SCOTUS.”

Wednesday, June 03, 2026

Proving the Value of Higher Education Requires Defending It, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D. June 3, 2026

Proving the Value of Higher Education Requires 

Defending It

by

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

June 3, 2026

Allison Schrager’s recent Bloomberg Opinion column posted below, “Colleges Face a Choice: Prove Their Value or Risk Losing Students,” responds to Yale University’s report on public trust in higher education by arguing that colleges and universities must restore public confidence by demonstrating clearer value to students and families (Schrager, 2026). On the surface, this is a reasonable concern. Higher education is expensive. Admissions practices can be opaque. Students and parents worry about debt, employment, and whether a degree is worth the investment. Universities should take these concerns seriously.

But the problem with Schrager’s framing is that it treats mistrust as if it were primarily an institutional failure of higher education itself. That is only part of the story. As I argued in my earlier TexasEdEquity critique of the Yale report on this blog, the crisis we are facing is not simply a crisis of trust in higher education. It is a restructuring of higher education itself (Valenzuela, 2026). 

The question is not only whether universities can prove their value to the public. The question is whether the public will still be allowed to have universities worthy of trust.

Schrager writes that colleges need to prove their value or risk losing students. She is especially concerned about first-generation students who may already be uncertain about whether college is worth the time, money, and risk. That concern is real. As someone who has spent my career focused on educational equity, Mexican American and Latina/o schooling, and the public mission of universities, I share it. First-generation students deserve institutions that support them, challenge them, graduate them, and prepare them for meaningful lives and livelihoods.

Yet a narrow “return on investment” framing can unintentionally reinforce the very forces that are diminishing higher education’s democratic purpose. If the value of college is reduced to wages alone, then fields that cultivate historical understanding, critical thought, civic imagination, ethical judgment, cultural knowledge, and democratic participation become vulnerable to attack. If universities are judged only by immediate labor-market outcomes, then education becomes training, students become consumers, faculty become service providers, and the public university becomes a credentialing arm of the economy.

That is too small a vision. And not at all becoming of the University of Texas at Austin, one of only two of the state's flagship institutions.

The value of higher education is not simply that it helps people get jobs, though it often does. Its deeper value is that it helps people navigate complexity in an ever-changing world. It teaches students to read closely, reason carefully, evaluate evidence, ask better questions, understand historical context, communicate across difference, and participate in democratic life. These are not luxuries. They are survival skills for a society facing climate disruption, artificial intelligence, democratic backsliding, economic inequality, racial conflict, public health crises, and disinformation at scale.

Indeed, employers themselves continue to say that they value precisely these capacities. The Association of American Colleges and Universities has repeatedly found that employers want graduates who can think critically, communicate effectively, adapt, solve complex problems, and work across difference (Finley, 2023, 2025). These are not narrow technical competencies. They are liberal learning outcomes. They are also democratic capacities.

So when Schrager suggests that “less elite” schools may need to become “less academic” and provide more job training, we should pause. Students from working-class, first-generation, rural, Black, Brown, Indigenous, and immigrant communities do not deserve a thinner education than students at Yale. They do not deserve only training while elites receive philosophy, history, literature, political theory, art, science, and critical debate. That would reproduce the very hierarchy higher education should challenge: broad intellectual formation for the privileged, narrow workforce preparation for everyone else.

The problem is not that public universities are too academic. The problem is that they are being pressured to abandon their academic and democratic missions in order to survive political attack, austerity, and market discipline (Valenzuela, 2026; also see Wray, 2024).

This is where Schrager’s institutional affiliation matters. Schrager is identified as a senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute. That does not disqualify her from writing about higher education, nor does it mean every point she makes is wrong. But it does require context. 

The Manhattan Institute is not a neutral observer of higher education’s trust crisis. It has been directly involved in campaigns to reshape public universities, including through model legislation aimed at abolishing DEI bureaucracies, ending mandatory diversity training, restricting diversity statements, and eliminating identity-based preferences (Manhattan Institute, 2023). Inside Higher Ed reported that Florida Governor Ron DeSantis’s anti-DEI higher education agenda drew from Manhattan Institute model legislation developed with Christopher Rufo and others (Moody, 2023).

This matters because the language of “restoring trust,” “rigor,” so-called “viewpoint diversity,” and “academic excellence” can operate in two very different ways. It can be a good-faith call for better universities. Or it can be a political vocabulary used to justify state intervention, program elimination, curricular control, anti-DEI laws, donor influence, and the disciplining of faculty and students whose work challenges inequality.

We are seeing the latter across the country.

In Texas, Senate Bill 17 eliminated DEI offices in public universities. Senate Bill 37 has expanded state authority over curriculum, governance, and faculty life. Programs in Mexican American and Latino Studies, African American Studies, Women’s and Gender Studies, and related fields have been threatened, consolidated, renamed, or politically scrutinized. Across the country, public higher education is being told to prove its value while the very conditions that make it valuable—academic freedom, shared governance, critical inquiry, inclusive access, intellectual breadth—are being undermined.

That is why the Yale report, while useful, is incomplete. Others have similarly noted that the report gets some things right—especially around institutional effectiveness, public confidence, transparency, and the need for universities to respond more seriously to legitimate public concerns (Rudawsky, 2026). It names real concerns: costs, admissions, grade inflation, administrative growth, free speech, and public skepticism. 

However from the vantage point of Texas, the deeper issue is power.

Higher education is not simply being misunderstood. It is being remade. And much of that remaking is being carried out by political actors, ideological organizations, donors, and think tanks that have long viewed universities as sites to be captured or disciplined.

Nancy MacLean’s Democracy in Chains helps us understand this longer history. MacLean traces how radical libertarian networks, including those associated with Charles Koch, sought to limit democratic capacity by reshaping law, policy, education, labor, taxation, and public institutions in ways that protect concentrated wealth from democratic demands (MacLean, 2017). One does not have to accept every claim in MacLean’s book to see the relevance: higher education has long been a battleground over whether democracy will serve the public or be constrained on behalf of market power.

Katherine Stewart’s work is equally illuminating. In Money, Lies, and God, Stewart documents an anti-democratic movement that brings together Christian nationalists, billionaire networks, disinformation campaigns, and far-right organizations seeking to transform American democracy from within (Stewart, 2025). Her reporting shows that the assault on public institutions is not random. It is organized, funded, and ideologically motivated. Universities, public schools, libraries, school boards, courts, and state legislatures are all part of the same terrain.

Seen in this light, Schrager’s question—how can colleges prove their value?—needs to be turned around. Higher education should absolutely be accountable to students, families, taxpayers, and the public. But we must also ask: Who is defining value? Who benefits when value is reduced to salary? Who gains when the humanities, Ethnic Studies, gender and sexuality studies, and critical social sciences are framed as politically suspect or economically wasteful? Who profits when public universities are weakened and privatized? Who gains when democratic education is replaced by workforce sorting?

A university’s value cannot be measured only by wages or return on investment. A university also proves its value when it helps students recognize propaganda, understand history, analyze policy, question authority, read the law, evaluate scientific evidence, work across difference, and imagine alternatives. It proves its value when it prepares students not only to enter the economy, but to shape it. It proves its value when it produces teachers, nurses, engineers, artists, organizers, lawyers, scientists, public servants, writers, parents, neighbors, and citizens capable of democratic judgment.

This is why Ethnic Studies is central, not peripheral, to the university’s value. Mexican American Studies, African American Studies, Indigenous Studies, Asian American Studies, Women’s and Gender Studies, and related fields teach students to understand how power works historically and structurally. They connect knowledge to community, memory, identity, policy, and justice. They help students see that democracy is not only a set of institutions, but a practice of belonging, critique, participation, and repair.

In a state like Texas, this is especially urgent. Texas is young, diverse, multilingual, and multiracial. Its future depends on students who can navigate complexity, understand multiple histories, communicate across communities, and participate in democratic life. To dismantle or weaken the very fields that prepare students for this future is not academic reform. It is civic disinvestment.

To be clear, universities should not dismiss public concerns. They should address affordability, debt, student support, admissions transparency, administrative growth, uneven teaching quality, and ideological narrowness where it exists. They should strengthen academic rigor and protect open inquiry. They should make clearer to students and families what a college education offers.

But they should not accept a market-only definition of value. Nor should they allow organizations that are actively working to narrow public higher education to present themselves as neutral arbiters of trust.

If higher education wants to regain public trust, it must do more than prove its economic payoff. It must tell a better truth about what it is for.

Higher education is for work, yes. But it is also for democracy. It is for complexity. It is for memory. It is for ethical judgment. It is for public reason. It is for learning how to live with others in a plural society. It is for asking not only, “What job will this get me?” but also, “What kind of world are we building, who benefits from it, who is harmed by it, and how might it be otherwise?”

The crisis, then, is not simply that universities have lost public trust. It is that trust is being weaponized by forces that want to shrink the democratic mission of higher education. The answer is not to make universities less academic for most students and more intellectually expansive for elites. The answer is to make the full promise of higher education available to all students.

That means defending affordability, access, academic freedom, shared governance, Ethnic Studies, the humanities, the sciences, professional education, and the civic purposes of the university together.

Colleges do need to prove their value. But their value cannot be proven by surrendering to the very forces that are trying to undercut them.

Their value will be proven by defending the university as a democratic public good.

References

Association of American Colleges and Universities. (2025, December 11). New national survey finds strong employer confidence in higher education: Findings show clear alignment between liberal education outcomes and evolving workforce needs, AAC&U. https://www.aacu.org/newsroom/new-national-survey-finds-strong-employer-confidence-in-higher-education

Finley, A. P. (2023). The career-ready graduate: What employers say about the difference college makes. Association of American Colleges and Universities. https://www.aacu.org/research/the-career-ready-graduate-what-employers-say-about-the-difference-college-makes

Finley, A. P. (2025). The agility imperative: How employers view preparation for an uncertain future. Association of American Colleges and Universities. https://www.aacu.org/research/the-agility-imperative

MacLean, N. (2017). Democracy in chains: The deep history of the radical right’s stealth plan for America. Viking.

Manhattan Institute. (2023, January 18). New issue brief: Abolish DEI bureaucracies and restore colorblind equality in public universities. https://manhattan.institute/article/new-issue-brief-abolish-dei-bureaucracies-and-restore-colorblind-equality-in-public-universities

Moody, J. (2023, February 6). DeSantis debuts a new conservative playbook for ending DEI. Inside Higher Ed. https://www.insidehighered.com/news/faculty/academic-freedom/2023/02/06/desantis-debuts-new-conservative-playbook-ending-dei

Rudawsky, D. (2026, April 28). What Yale got right, and what the trust crisis still demands, Institutional Effectiveness Weekly, 37. https://donrudawsky.substack.com/p/what-yale-got-right-and-what-the

Schrager, A. (2026, May 4). Colleges face a choice: Prove their value or risk losing students, Bloomberg Opinionhttps://www.statesman.com/opinion/columns/article/universities-trust-enrollment-decline-opinion-22232350.php

Stewart, K. (2025). Money, lies, and God: Inside the movement to destroy American democracy. Bloomsbury Publishing.

Valenzuela, A. (2026, April 28). The wrong crisis: What the Yale report misses in the age of manufactured mistrust. Educational Equity, Politics & Policy in Texas. https://texasedequity.blogspot.com/2026/04/the-wrong-crisis-what-yale-report.html

Wray, A. (2024, March 27). How these 10 states’ anti-DEI laws will impact college campuses, Reckon.
https://www.reckon.news/justice/2024/03/how-these-9-states-anti-dei-laws-will-impact-college-campuses.html

Yale University. (2026). Report of the Committee on Trust in Higher Education. Yale University.



By Allison Schrager, Bloomberg Opinion | Austin American-Statesman, May 4, 2026


University of Texas students walk through campus last year. If the U.S. values economic mobility, the whole system of higher education needs to regain the trust of the public, Allison Schrager writes.

Jay Janner/Austin American-Statesman

Last week Yale University took the first step on the road to recovery: It admitted it had a problem. That problem is a lack of trust — and the damage that Yale and other top schools have done isn’t to themselves, it is to the entire system of U.S. higher education.

But if universities want to offer a truly rigorous education that is open to good-natured debate, students and faculty of different political backgrounds will need to feel more welcome. Without substantial change, U.S. universities may squander what little trust they have — and the country will be worse off.

America’s elite universities, which produce world-class research and attract top scholars from around the globe, should be a source of pride. But most Americans mistrust the U.S. higher education system, and last year Yale’s president assigned a committee to study the reasons why. The resulting report identifies several culprits: high tuition costs, opaque admissions practices, a politically monolithic culture, and a weak commitment to academic rigor and open debate.These perceptions, the report concedes, are not entirely wrong. The irony here is that even if Yale does nothing to change, it will probably be fine. Elite students and scholars will still want to go there. Donors will still give them money. The consequences will redound for people who go to schools not named Yale or Harvard.

Anyone who would consider a top school like Yale won’t decide against college altogether because of the flaws and excesses detailed in this report. I worry more about the first-generation students who are ambivalent about going to college in the first place, uncertain about whether the investment is worth it and whether they can stick with it.

RELATED: If UT wants to restore public trust, leaders must earn it

In the last 60 years, getting a college degree became part of the American Dream. Technology and the economy changed in ways that rewarded graduates with higher earnings. The result was that many more people — not just the children of the elite but first-generation students too — went to college.

In the last few years, however, this trend has started to reverse. Now about 62% of high school graduates enroll in college or university, down from 70% several years ago.

There is no single reason Americans have turned on higher education, although one big one is that a degree does not pay off like it used to. If you graduate from a four-year degree program at most schools, the odds are still very good that your degree will confer higher earnings over your lifetime. But it is no longer a sure thing. And as tuition got more expensive after 2000, the college wage premium also stagnated. It seems like college is no longer such a good deal.

Still, given the positive expected value, economics alone can’t explain falling enrollments. One reason could be that the mission of many elite universities is muddled. Back when only a small fraction of the population went to college, it could be just a place to read great books, have fun, and stay up late in your dorm room debating Marxism. When it was over, you got a job in banking or law. Elite universities were especially good at providing that experience, and graduates were rewarded with higher pay.

ALSO READ: UT’s restructuring blurs rich differences into a single ‘Other’

But once more people started going to college, the experience had to provide more transparent economic value. In theory, less elite schools could have become more like trade schools, but this didn't happen (perhaps because the less elite schools are largely staffed by graduates of elite schools). Also the incentives were never there to change because the U.S. subsidizes all college degrees, even if some pay off more than others.

What if the mission was just academic excellence? In that case, almost all universities — and especially elite ones — failed. Most students don’t go to elite universities, but these schools get outsized attention. So it’s hard not to notice how the supposedly best and brightest students don’t care about their classes, don’t get real grades, and often seem comically immature when trying to be taken seriously. Then students had the nerve to demand the government forgive their loans, an unpopular stance with many Americans.

If these elite schools can’t deliver on their most basic mission, what does that say about the system as a whole? The financial returns to a degree have been falling for years, but the decline in enrollments and erosion of trust is relatively recent, and coincides with many of the controversies that have erupted on elite campuses.

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America’s higher education system is already shrinking and will probably shrink further, especially if it continues to be hard for graduates to find jobs. Some colleges are closing, and universities are focused on degrees that offer a higher earning potential and are cutting departments that are less popular.

These falling enrollments may well be justified. At the same time, for all its problems, college remains an important contributor to economic mobility. It still usually produces higher earnings, and it brings together people from different economic backgrounds.

If the U.S. values economic mobility, the whole system of higher education needs to regain the trust of the public. If more marginal schools want to survive, they will need to be less academic and provide more training in skills that translate into jobs. More elite schools can restore trust by returning to a focus on academic excellence rather than trying to solve all of society’s problems.

Yale’s report does have some good ideas that other universities are also trying, such as curbing grade inflation, making admissions more transparent, reforming university governance and cutting administrative bloat. Fixing the perception of political bias will be harder, especially since most academics lean left.

But if universities want to offer a truly rigorous education that is open to good-natured debate, students and faculty of different political backgrounds will need to feel more welcome. Without substantial change, U.S. universities may squander what little trust they have — and the country will be worse off.


Allison Schrager is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering economics. A senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute, she is author of “An Economist Walks Into a Brothel: And Other Unexpected Places to Understand Risk.”

Wednesday, December 10, 2025

Invited Testimony of Dr. Angela Valenzuela Texas House Democratic Caucus Special Hearing on Free Speech, December 9, 2025

Friends,

Yesterday I had the honor of testifying before the Texas House Democratic Caucus Special Hearing on Free Speech. Because of time constraints, I delivered a much shorter version of my remarks. What follows is the full testimony I had prepared—one that more completely traces the constitutional, historical, and political stakes of this moment.

I should add that Attorney Richard Martinez, who, among others, litigated the Gonzalez v. Douglas case mentioned below, reviewed my testimony and gave it a thumbs up. 😊

I’m grateful to share it with you here, and I invite you to listen to the entire hearing at this link. The testimonies were outstanding.


-Angela Valenzuela


Invited Testimony of Dr. Angela Valenzuela

Texas House Democratic Caucus Special Hearing on Free Speech
Testimony by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.
December 9, 2025

Chair, Vice Chair, and Members of the Committee:

Thank you for the opportunity to speak today. My name is Angela Valenzuela, Professor of Educational Leadership and Policy at the University of Texas at Austin and Director of the Texas Center for Education Policy and a member of the National Academy of Education

I speak today as an educator, a scholar of public schooling and higher education, and as someone who has spent decades studying educational barriers facing minoritized youth.

In my remarks, I want to focus specifically on the prohibitions on the teaching of race and gender found in Senate Bill 37—and also embedded, in different form, in the Trump Administration’s Compact for Higher Education

I will first frame the moment we are living through, and then turn to the precedent-setting Gonzalez v. Douglas case in Arizona, which challenged the dismantling of the Mexican American Studies program in the Tucson Unified School District. That case, I would argue, has direct bearing on the constitutionality of SB 37 and similar prohibitions in higher education, particularly where there is evidence of discriminatory intent or viewpoint-based discrimination or censorship.

We are living through a coordinated backlash against DEI, Ethnic Studies, Women and Gender Studies, and public education itself. This moment is not about “protecting students” or “ending indoctrination,” as proponents claim. It is about enforcing ignorance and preserving racial and gender hierarchies. At the highest level, it is about erasure and control, controlling the narrative and imposing limits to community self-awareness and empowerment.

That erasure extends beyond policy. It echoes across our shared cultural memory—shaping what is preserved, what is honored, and what is pushed into oblivion. The attacks on Ethnic Studies, the banning of books, the silencing of educators who dare to speak truth—all reflect a calculated project to reorder memory itself. 

The troubling intent is not simply to stifle dissent, but to render entire histories incomprehensible to generations yet to come. In this context, ignorance is not an accident; it is carefully manufactured, fortified, and deployed to uphold the existing order—not least by preserving the incumbencies of those in power, as the recent fight over mid-decade redistricting makes clear.

The constitutional lessons from Arizona are not abstract. They map directly onto the policies Texas has now enacted.

In Texas, Senate Bill 17 prohibits DEI offices and programming in public universities. Senate Bill 37 eviscerates faculty governance across the entire higher education system, replacing longstanding traditions of faculty oversight with politically appointed boards and administrators beholden to partisan interests. Together with earlier laws like Senate Bill 3, Texas’s anti–Critical Race Theory bill that constrains the teaching of race and history in K–12 schools, these laws form an interlocking architecture of repression (see Intercultural Development Research Association, 2021).

The effects are concrete. UT Austin alone suffered at least $47 million in cuts to research due to federal funding rollbacks—cuts that have damaged work across race, gender, immigration, public health, and mental health. Projects like Dr. Danielle Clealand’s research on Black Cuban immigrant histories are being erased (Valenzuela, 2025). 

This is epistemic violence pure and simple. It is a purge of inconvenient truths. And yet, even in this landscape of "organized forgetting"—or what I term in my own work, either "subtractive schooling," or the "politics of erasure," we still have the U.S. Constitution.

I want to turn now to an important precursor to our current moment: Arizona’s ARS § 15-112, the law used to dismantle Tucson’s Mexican American Studies program. That law prohibited courses that “promote resentment,” “are designed primarily for pupils of a particular ethnic group,” or “advocate ethnic solidarity.” These vague, ideologically charged provisions became the blueprint for today’s curriculum wars.

We now see unmistakable echoes of ARS § 15-112 in Texas.

Texas Senate Bill 3 uses nearly identical language in its ban on teaching concepts that might cause students to “feel discomfort, guilt, or psychological distress” because of race or sex—an interpretation so broad that it suppresses discussions of racism, structural inequity, and collective historical experience. Senate Bill 17 bans identity-based programs and affinity centers in higher education, mirroring Arizona’s prohibition on courses “designed primarily for pupils of a particular ethnic group.” And Senate Bill 37 continues this trajectory by restricting what can be taught in college classrooms about race, gender, and social identity—precisely the kinds of restrictions that were struck down in Gonzalez v. Douglas.

In other words, Texas has not adopted Arizona’s Ethnic Studies ban in one statute. It has adopted it in pieces, across multiple laws. The through-line from ARS § 15-112 to Texas policy is unmistakable: constrain what can be taught, surveil the curriculum for “divisive concepts,” eliminate identity-affirming programs, silence collective narratives, and enforce an atomized, decontextualized vision of the individual student. That is exactly the logic Arizona used, and it is exactly the logic Texas has now replicated.

Gonzalez v. Douglas

I had the honor of testifying in the Arce v. Douglas case—now formally known as Gonzalez v. Douglas. Teachers and students sued the Arizona Superintendent of Public Instruction and members of the Arizona State Board of Education after the elimination of the successful Mexican American Studies program in Tucson. The argument of "viewpoint diversity" was central to the case, but not in the distorted sense we hear today from conservatives who allege—without evidence—that their perspectives are excluded from the college curriculum.

Teachers and students argued that the state targeted their curriculum precisely because it foregrounded Mexican American perspectives, histories, and intellectual traditions (Cabrera et al., 2014). The entire effort was motivated by racial animus and a political agenda to "organize forgetting."

The federal court agreed, holding that Arizona had engaged in unconstitutional viewpoint discrimination motivated by hostility toward Mexican Americans (Gonzalez v. Douglas, 2017).

The court ruled that teachers have a right to teach, and students have a right to learn, a curriculum that reflects their experiences and intellectual traditions. Gonzalez v. Douglas stands as a precedent-setting case underscoring this point. 

While a state may legislate restrictions on teaching and research, the mere passage of a law does not guarantee its constitutional survival. As Gonzalez demonstrated, when a state suppresses particular perspectives or academic fields—especially those tied to the histories and identities of marginalized communities—it invites serious First Amendment scrutiny and is unlikely to prevail.

In summary, Senate Bill 37, like Arizona’s ARS § 15-112, is vulnerable to a First Amendment challenge because it targets specific viewpoints and identities for suppression.

Some day, Ethnic Studies courses will simply be called “a good education.”

Thank you for your time.

References

Cabrera, N. L., Milem, J. F., Jaquette, O., & Marx, R. W. (2014). Missing the (Student Achievement) Forest for All the (Political) Trees: Empiricism and the Mexican American Studies Controversy in Tucson: Empiricism and the Mexican American Studies Controversy in Tucson. American Educational Research Journal51(6), 1084-1118. https://doi.org/10.3102/0002831214553705

Gonzalez v. Douglas, 269 F. Supp. 3d 948 (D. Ariz. 2017). https://www.thefire.org/sites/default/files/2018/01/22133613/Gonzalez-v.-Douglas-Memorandum-of-Decision.pdf

Intercultural Development Research Association. (2021). What Texas’ classroom censorship law means for students & schools. IDRA. https://www.idra.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/02/What-Texas-Classroom-Censorship-Law-Means-for-Students-and-Schools-IDRA-2022.pdf

Valenzuela, A. (2025, May). UT loses $47M in research grants under Trump Administration; more than 60 projects cut: The ideological purge of public research [Blog post]. Educational Equity, Politics & Policy in Texas https://texasedequity.blogspot.com/2025/05/ut-loses-47m-in-research-grants-under.html

© 2025 Angela Valenzuela. All rights reserved.
This blog post may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations in academic, journalistic, or critical reviews with proper attribution.