By Pat Trevino | July 29, 2025
Senate Bill 12 was sold like a culture cleanse—a no-apologies takedown of “woke” ideology wrapped in the language of parental rights.
Texas towns like Cuero, Yorktown, Refugio, and Goliad—and especially all those border towns in the Valley that surprised everyone with their political shift—this was their victory march: that DEI was poison, that LGBTQ+ students were infiltrating tradition, and that Austin’s halls would echo only with voices that looked, prayed, and voted the “right” way, which of course meant “their way.”
These laws were crafted to make sure the pain landed squarely on queer kids, immigrant families, the disabled and young Black girls—the ones still daring to ask to be seen—only to be silenced with state law.
And SB 12 delivered—at least in part.
✅ DEI offices? Scrapped.
✅ LGBTQ+ student clubs and instruction on gender identity? Muzzled.
✅ Safe spaces for queer youth? Eliminated.
✅ Trauma-informed training for teachers? Gone.
✅ Mentorship programs for marginalized students? Axed.
This isn’t just a policy shift—it’s a cultural purge. Teachers? Forced to choose between compassion and compliance.
But the wrecking ball doesn’t just hit the “woke”—it’s poised to smash straight through the foundation of local control. If the rest of SB 12 passes, Cities and counties would be prohibited from using public funds to hire registered lobbyists or pay dues to associations that employ them. Their ability to hire lobbyists to fight for clean water, better roads, or floodplain management will simply disappear. The bill doesn’t just gag progressive voices—it threatens to gag everyone. What began as political vengeance could turn into self-inflicted silence. I’ve never understood the logic behind anyone who would vote for policies that go against their own self-interest. And that is what we are seeing in SB12.
The Republican architects of Senate Bill 12—Creighton, Bettencourt, Leach, and Kolkhorst weren’t trying to protect kids—they were trying to protect their seats. They knew that in places like Cuero, Goliad, Refugio, and Victoria the phrase “woke agenda” hits harder than any policy memo. So they weaponized fear. They told voters that DEI was a Trojan horse for liberal indoctrination, that LGBTQ+ student clubs were grooming grounds, and that teachers were secretly transitioning kids behind closed doors. It was never about education—it was about domination. About rallying a base with moral panic and turning classrooms into battlegrounds.
Senate Bill 12 doesn’t just muzzle progressive voices—it threatens to silence all of rural Texas. The same politicians who vowed to “give power back to parents” are now pushing to strip local governments of the ability to do their jobs. If the lobbying ban portion of SB 12 passes, billionaires, oil tycoons, and corporate lobbyists will continue cozying up to lawmakers in Austin, ticking off their wish lists for tax breaks, deregulation, and sweetheart deals—while small-town councils, county governments, judges, and commissioners are left voiceless, without a seat at the table. It would sever communities from the legislative process entirely, leaving them powerless to advocate for their future—or even their survival.
While, the ultra-wealthy are still whispering in lawmakers’ ears, cutting six-figure checks and shaping policy in private. The bill doesn’t level the playing field—it bulldozes it.
And let’s be brutally honest: this is a Republican power grab, plain and simple. The very party that built its brand on “local control” is now gutting it from the inside out. Here in DeWitt County—every commissioner wears the Republican “hat” (figuratively speaking), yet it’s their own party pushing SB 12. The bill would strip them of the local control they need to serve their constituents and their ability to fight for basic needs like clean water, hospital funding, and infrastructure.
Victoria County is facing the same threat. And it’s not just them—it’s nearly every rural community across Texas that will be affected. These are the towns that rely on shared resources, regional associations, and government consultants to advocate for their needs in Austin. If SB 12 goes through, those lifelines are cut. The very communities that helped elect the lawmakers pushing this bill are the ones who will be left voiceless.
So ask yourself: why would a political party that claims to defend rural values be the one working to silence rural voices? And here’s the clincher: the only organizations exempt from the ban are those representing elected sheriffs or individual law enforcement officers.
Now, if I were into conspiracy theories, I’d be asking why the same lawmakers who claim to protect rural values are carving out exceptions for law enforcement while silencing everyone else. When power is concentrated in the hands of a few—and accountability is stripped away—it’s not just policy that suffers. Communities do. Especially the ones that have already been targeted, overlooked, or erased.
Maybe it’s time to stop blaming “us liberals” and start asking what your own party is doing behind closed doors.
If your loyalty to the GOP makes you ignore the damage being done to your community, maybe it’s not blind loyalty. Maybe it’s the inability to admit your party sold you out.
But there’s a lesson worth sitting with: when laws are crafted to exclude or harm any segment of our society, they don’t just affect the people they target—they change the atmosphere. They make it easier to ignore suffering, harder to speak up, and more acceptable to turn away. That erosion eats away at the character of a community. Little by little, we lose compassion, unity, and the kind of moral courage that makes a society strong. We end up fencing in our own humanity. And the truth is, we weren’t called to draw boundaries—we were called to build bridges.
Editor’s Note (Updated August 1, 2025)
This article has been updated from its original version published on June 29, 2025, to reflect new legislative developments. Portions of the bill discussed were not enacted as initially reported. The editorial has been revised to clarify which measures advanced and which remain pending. These changes were made to ensure accuracy as the situation continues to evolve.