They're not disengaged—they’re waiting to be heard, and fully understood.
How a civic-minded, cowboy-themed party came to represent an identity that’s not so easily split.
Why Mexican Americans love the Dallas Cowboys.
Why the pope's visit to Juárez resonated so deeply.
The messy, lonely, and visionary life of the first Texas writer—and the first Latino—to win the vaunted PEN/Faulkner Award.
Is Austin the state’s most segregated city?
Inside the vicious cartel war in northern Mexico—and one family’s struggle to survive.
How else to describe the murder and mayhem and fear that have gripped Nuevo Laredo for months—and are now spilling over into Texas?
Ten years. More than three hundred women murdered. What is going on in Juárez? And why aren't the Mexican authorities doing something about it?
San Antonio's Marshevet Hooker is not just any old high school sprinter; she's an Olympic gold medalist in the making. Meet her and nine other women we're betting will lead the new Texas—and the world.
Hector Perez loved his country enough to die for it. A year later, his family is still paying the price of patriotism.
As U.S. ambassador to Mexico, Tony Garza was supposed to be the right man in the right job at the right timesomeone who would promote a new era of cooperation between the two countries. If only external events hadn't intervened.
A $2 million bronze monument honoring Tejanos was unveiled at the Capitol last week. Here's why it's historically significant to all Texans.
For the women of Juárez, the terror of kidnapping—and worse—has never ended. Will it ever?
What it used to be like to cross the border.
Each year, some 55,000 talented high school musicians try out for 1,500 chairs at the Super Bowl of band geekery: the Texas Music Educators Association Clinic/Convention in San Antonio. Once upon a time, I made the cut.
How Conrado Cantu, the sheriff of Cameron County, lived down to people’s expectations of South Texas law enforcement.
Did Mexican authorities find the man who killed a crusading Nuevo Laredo editor? Or have they taken the easy way out (again)?
You may never have heard of Ramón Ayala, but to his four generations of fans in South Texas and Mexico, he’s music royalty. He revolutionized norteño, a genre that reigns along the border, and—after more than one hundred albums—is still going strong.
The most promising young fiction writer in Texas is Oscar Casares, whose tales of life in Brownsville have put him and his hometown on the literary map.
Widowed at 38, a Mexican citizen with no money and a sixth-grade education, she raised three proud American daughters—and embraced life on her own terms.
The U.S. Census Bureau says that Cameron Park, a Brownsville colonia, is the poorest community in Americaand yet optimism thrives there. How do you explain to statisticians and demographers that poverty is a relative thing?
Julián and Joaquin Castro's résumés look as similar as they do: degrees from Stanford and Harvard, billable hours logged at a tony law firm, and now, promising careers in San Antonio politics. Nothing could please their mother more.
When I moved to Houston two years ago, I was expecting little in the way of Hispanic culture. Who knew it was such a good city for Latinosbetter, even, than San Antonio?
To residents of Presidio and Ojinaga, the international border that separates them had always seemed irrelevant. They crossed it easily, spoke the same language, and considered themselves part of the same community. When Mexican authorities wrongly imprisoned a Texas grocer in April, that relationship changed dramatically—and it hasn't been the
Cecilia Ballí tells how a difference of interpretation has divided a historic town.
In March 1836, 342 men fighting for Texas independence surrendered to Mexican general José de Urrea. A week later they were shot on orders of Santa Anna. Was it a massacre, as generations of schoolchildren have been taught, or an execution? The question has divided a historic Texas town.
For years my relatives have claimed that they were robbed of oil and gas royalties on Padre Island. Last May a Brownsville jury agreed, vindicating—for now—the family’s proud heritage and proving that, sometimes, the little guy does win.