In the race for a U.S. Senate seat in Texas, the campaign trail has transformed into a cultural referendum where both candidates are fiercely contesting the state’s identity. From cowboy boots and pickup trucks to traditional ballads and fast-food staples, the battle between Democratic nominee James Talarico and Republican contender Ken Paxton hinges not just on governance, but on defining what it means to be a Texan.
The cultural clash was recently highlighted on Spanish-language radio stations across the state, where a traditional Mexican narrative ballad played in support of Mr. Talarico. Commissioned by the super PAC Lone Star Rising and performed by Latin Grammy winner Salvador “Chava” Chavez, the corrido praises Mr. Talarico as an ally of the people while criticizing his opponent’s ambition.
Mr. Talarico has aggressively embraced local symbols throughout his campaign. He is rarely seen without his Lucchese cowboy boots, drives a Chevrolet Colorado pickup truck bearing a “Less Honkin’ More Tonkin’” bumper sticker, and named his tour “Clear Eyes, Full Hearts” after the television series “Friday Night Lights.” Following an absence due to the flu last month, he made his first public reappearance at the Austin City Limits music festival. He has also shared well-publicized meals at Whataburger and made a surprise appearance alongside former President Barack Obama.
Meanwhile, Mr. Paxton’s campaign draws heavily on the oil industry, conservative values, and frontier mythology. Advertisements for the Republican candidate feature pump jacks and cowboys on horseback, celebrating Texas’s cattle ranches and oil fields while defending traditional values against change. Other ads have criticized Mr. Talarico’s past remarks regarding meat consumption and his positions on gender identity.
“James Talarico belongs in California, not Texas,” Mr. Paxton wrote on social media earlier this month, echoing arguments that his opponent is out of touch. The line of attack highlights Mr. Paxton’s efforts to cast himself as the defender of traditional Texas, though Mr. Talarico has countered by noting that Mr. Paxton spent part of his childhood in California while his father served in the United States Air Force.
“I believe anyone can be a Texan,” Mr. Talarico told a crowd at an October rally in Plano, noting his own status as an eighth-generation Texan compared to Mr. Paxton’s upbringing. “What makes a Texan is not in the boots or in the truck; it is deep in the heart.”
Republicans, however, have continued to police those very credentials. During an October rally, Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick recited lyrics from a Marty Robbins song about the Alamo, while State Sen. Mayes Middleton publicly challenged the authenticity of Mr. Talarico’s footwear, falsely accusing him of wearing a zip-up pair. In a state where footwear, denim choices, and even minor culinary moments—such as Mr. Talarico’s internet-famous potato, egg, and cheese taco order—are scrutinized, these details carry heavy political weight. Observers note that such cultural signaling recalls historical missteps like President Gerald Ford’s 1976 campaign blunder of biting into a tamale without removing the corn husk at the Alamo.
Sharon Jarvis, a political communication researcher at the University of Texas at Austin, pointed out the intense pride residents take in these cultural markers. “You can see just how proud they are, how important these symbols are, and the rhetorical work that these symbols do,” she said.
While Mr. Paxton’s camp leans into the defense of a traditional frontier heritage, Mr. Talarico has advocated for a broader, pluralistic view of the state. During his Plano stump speech, he described Texas as “this big mash-up of all these different people, all these different cultures, all these different friends,” pointing to Tejano music as an example of blending Northern Mexican Spanish vocal styles with Czech and German polka rhythms.
In a state that has not elected a Democrat to the U.S. Senate in nearly four decades, these competing cultural narratives serve a dual purpose: policy debate wrapped in local iconography designed to make the prospect of a political shift feel familiar to voters.
