Texas Dems Torn Apart by Crockett’s Run—Republicans Giddy

Crockett’s style is hard to miss. Her firebrand takedowns of Donald Trump and GOP leaders regularly ping across social media, stoking both cheers and groans. Early polling out of Texas Southern University puts her ahead of state Rep. James Talarico by a decent eight points among likely Democratic voters, which, in Texas, counts as momentum. But every surge seems to trigger a new round of hand-wringing. Some old-school party strategists are already on edge. “You make it about the voters, not yourself,” James Carville jabbed on a recent podcast, sounding only half amused. “She’s breaking that rule.” Whether Carville’s warning amounts to sage wisdom or just nostalgia for a bygone political era, the party isn’t speaking with one voice about Crockett’s approach.

That split is more than theoretical. At one campaign event in Houston, a Democratic pollster quietly confided his real fear: “There’s a chance folks who’d have just skipped past Paxton’s name on the ballot might actually back him now—just as a reaction to Jasmine.” In swing districts, that kind of scenario isn’t idle speculation; it can tilt the scales for close House races, maybe even shift the balance of power in Congress.

Of course, to Crockett’s defenders, that’s nothing but overcaution masquerading as wisdom. “Why pretend we’ve cracked the code? We haven’t won statewide in decades,” says strategist Joel Montfort, half-exasperated, half-inspired. “Maybe bold is exactly what we need.” Her fans point to those packed, noisy events cropping up in places Texas Democrats rarely had reason to campaign. There’s talk of new donors, digital-savvy organizers, and a base—particularly among young progressives—finally fired up.

Matt Angle, who runs the Lone Star Project, is watching closely, neither backing nor dismissing Crockett yet. “Her challenge,” he explained over the phone, “is proving she doesn’t end up being a secret weapon for the Republicans just by being in the race.” That’s not exactly a rare worry. Republican Senator John Cornyn, facing a rather crowded primary himself, was caught grinning at a Thursday breakfast. “If I’m looking happy, I guess I need to try harder to hide it,” he quipped to local reporters. The feeling isn’t limited to Cornyn; Speaker Mike Johnson openly declared Crockett’s run “one of the best things to happen to our party in ages.” Even the former president found time to weigh in, calling her possible nomination “a gift.”

Reacting to the gathering thunderclouds, Crockett didn’t retreat. “It’s disappointing to see Democrats go after their own, when the real damage is being done by Republicans,” she fired back during an online Q&A. She’s betting on unity—though how exactly she plans to stitch together a coalition broad enough to win is still an open question.

And, as campaigns go, this one’s already seen some mess. Old legal disputes from her law practice days—including a dispute over a car rental that involved a convicted felon and an eventual settlement—have surfaced in the press. While many in her activist base dismiss it as a distraction, there’s little doubt opponents will exploit that storyline as the primary heat rises.

Maybe the takeaway is as old as Texas politics itself: nothing here happens by the book. The state hasn’t crowned a statewide Democrat in a generation, and nobody in either party has a foolproof blueprint. Crockett might rattle party elders. She might also be what’s needed to force a breakthrough—or underscore, once again, just how daunting the climb is for Democrats in deep-red territory.

With the primary still months away, uncertainty is about the only thing both camps can agree on. As campaigns sharpen their attacks and strategists argue over path and message, one truth lingers: in Texas, the rules have never been clear—and the stakes this year might be higher than ever.