How James Talarico Made Texas Competitive Again - Time Magazine

James Talarico has been speaking for 12 minutes and he still hasn’t mentioned Ken Paxton. He’s name-checked Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg. He’s called out Texas resident Elon Musk—not for pledging millions to keep Talarico from representing him in Washington, but for becoming the world’s first trillionaire. He’s taken shots at oligarchs, tax loopholes, and A.I. data centers. Jeffrey Epstein is mentioned, as is Jimmy Kimmel, whose interview with this fresh-faced idealist was not allowed to air on ABC's airwaves.

Finally, with about three minutes left, Talarico lands on his Republican rival in arguably the fiercest Senate race in the country. “Listen, even the most advanced A.I. couldn't come up with Ken Paxton's actual scandals,” he says, drawing chuckles and cheers from the rapt audience in a church hall across from Texas Southern University, a historically Black university. “I don't need to use A.I. and deep fakes. The truth about Ken Paxton is bad enough.”

Talarico knows this is not true. His opponent’s scandals actually aren’t enough—not in Texas, where Paxton, the state attorney general, remains a political force even after a grand jury indicted him, his fellow Republicans in the Texas House impeached him, and his own staffers reported him to the FBI. Texas is where Republicans have maintained an almost three-decade lock on political power; the last Democrat to win statewide did so in 1994. For Talarico to break that epic losing streak, he knows he can’t just hammer his opponent and energize hardcore Democrats. He needs to build a broader coalition than any other Senate candidate in the country. He needs to convince millions of Texans that not only this year is different, but that he’s different. 

“I want people to vote for something, not against something,” Talarico, 37, tells TIME after his Sept. 13 event. “Obviously, Ken Paxton's career of corruption is alarming to most Texans, but it's not enough just to have people showing up to vote against a bad alternative. I want people to feel excited about my vision and my values and what we're going to do together.”

With a mix of matter-of-fact earnestness and youthful idealism, Talarico is potentially doing something bigger than winning a Senate seat in a state where Democrats forgot how to win; he is nimbly blending the competing versions of the Democratic identity. Here is a seminarian who preaches a progressive message, a pragmatist who found ways to pass bills in a Republican-controlled Legislature, a sharp-tongued brawler who can smoothly veer from dunking on his opponent to celebrating the value of decency. All this, while also being one of the best fundraisers of the midterms, thanks in no small measure to his ability to tap into voters’ raw frustrations.

“We are all getting screwed,” he tells the galvanized crowd at Wheeler Avenue Baptist Church. “Whether you are a little more conservative or a little more progressive, whether you're Black, white, brown, we are all getting screwed.”

Democratic leaders across the country are watching closely. After years of party leaders fumbling to articulate what they believe in the post-Obama era, Talarico, if he pulls this off, could give Democrats a national blueprint for 2028, or at least a clue about next steps.

Talarico greets two supporters at the Wheeler Avenue Baptist Church in Houston on Sept. 13, 2026. Photograph by Brenda Bazán for TIME

That’s not to say his path to victory is wide open. Despite commanding the airwaves for months, his lead in almost every reputable polls is within the margin of error. And his money advantage has evaporated. After enjoying a 7-to-1 spending imbalance against Paxton and his allies between June and August, a super PAC tied to Senate Republican leadership is pouring more than $100 million in ads to boost Paxton in what is shaping up to be the most expensive Senate seat in U.S. history. This week, the super PAC linked to Senate Democrats stepped up with millions in digital ads, but the imbalance for the final stretch is still set to favor Republicans by a 5-to-1 margin. Talarico has also struggled to shake the persistent narrative that his support from Black voters is weak after a personal and ugly primary fight against Rep. Jasmine Crockett, who is Black.

Talarico appears to recognize the coalition he’s been building still might not be big enough to win Texas. He’s softened or reversed past positions that have drawn Republican fire, including his defense of trans athletes. He’s put significant resources into ramping up his outreach to Black voters, rolling out policy proposals on maternal healthcare and student loans with that audience in mind. And amid efforts to lump him in with the rise of democratic socialists in other parts of the country, he’s reworked his talking points on capitalism.

“I think Democrats should reclaim the principles of capitalism,” he tells me. “I'm fighting for old-school capitalism. A capitalism that cares about people, the kind of capitalism we had in the middle of the 20th century, when we built the strongest middle class in the world. When corporations felt a responsibility to their workers and their community. That's the kind of capitalism we have to get back to.”

Is all that enough for Talarico to build a tent as big as Texas? Republicans’ main attack lines—false allegations that he’s vegan, innuendo that he’s gay, a Trumpist nickname of “Talafreako”—have largely fallen flat. Still, even the most optimistic of his backers keep reminding themselves what state they’re in.

“Things are trending in the right direction, but it’s still Texas,” says Yasmin Radjy, a Democratic strategist with Swing Left, which is mobilizing voters on behalf of Talarico. “There’s been so much hope that’s been built up over so many years and it’s been shattered so many times.”

James Talarico greets supporters at the Wheeler Avenue Baptist Church in Houston on September 13, 2026. Photograph by Brenda Bazán for TIME

On July 4th—the 250th anniversary of America’s independence—Senate candidates in other states were marching in parades, waving miniature Stars and Stripes, and brandishing sparklers. The splitscreen offered by the contenders from Texas left even diehard Republicans groaning. Talarico was in Austin, attending the annual barbecue and concert of Texas patron saint Willie Nelson. Paxton was spotted on vacation in London with a woman who is not his wife.

It was the most striking example of the markedly distinct campaigns being run by the two men. Talarico goes for breakfast tacos with former President Barack Obama. Paxton grimaces through two nights of Trump’s bizarre midterm political convention in Dallas. Talarico laces his campaign speeches with scripture. Paxton punctuates his with MAGA-targeted trolling. Talarico is a likable foil on the podcast—and manosphere—circuit. Paxton is more often seen on Fox News.

The contrast is clear: Talarico is chasing a big tent. Paxton is building a bunker.

Paxton essentially steamrolled his way to the GOP nomination, over the objections of the party’s leaders in Washington and Texas who wanted to stick with incumbent John Cornyn. Trump declined to endorse either in the first round of voting, which was interpreted by many in the state as a tacit endorsement of Paxton. A week ahead of a runoff in May, Trump formally endorsed Paxton, who was already leading Cornyn in most polls. Ever since, support for Paxton from much of the party’s old guard has been grudging at best. Many seem to struggle to find anything nice to say about him. Earlier this month in Dallas, Cornyn and former President George W. Bush gathered some of the party’s biggest donors to raise cash for several Senate candidates. Even though it was held in his own backyard, Paxton was not on the guest list or among the beneficiaries.

Even Trump can’t help but mock Paxton as he encourages people to vote for him. "You might not love his look. You might not love his television interview,” Trump said at this month’s GOP convention in Dallas. “But he was the best attorney general in the country, perhaps. He was one of the best in the entire country. And that speaks a lot louder than the suit he's wearing that doesn't look so great."

Virtually every poll shows the headwinds are against Republicans, but GOP strategists note a similar scenario faced the party in 2018 when Sen. Ted Cruz defeated another Democratic darling, Beto O’Rourke. “This is Texas, not Pennsylvania,” says one Republican strategist who worked for Cornyn. 

Yet most political observers in the state agree that talk of Talarico’s chances would likely be far more muted if Cornyn had ended up the nominee. “I don’t think that being an exceptional talent is enough in Texas,” says Jess McIntosh, a Democratic strategist. “But he’s running against an exceptionally corrupt candidate.”

In 2015, Paxton, while state attorney general, was indicted on felony securities fraud for allegedly scamming people to join a startup without disclosing he received a commission. Nine years later, he agreed to pay nearly $300,000 in restitution and complete community service in exchange for the special prosecutors dropping the charges. Paxton did not have to admit guilt and was re-elected twice to the AG role while fighting the case. All the noise, he successfully argued to voters, was a political hit job.

And in 2020, eight of his lieutenants in the Texas AG’s office accused him of bribery and abuse of office to upgrade a home of his mistress. The Republican-led Texas state House impeached him but the state Senate acquitted him. He and his wife, a state senator, are in the midst of finalizing a divorce, which she has said she filed “on biblical grounds.”

Ken Paxton, the Texas attorney general, center, and Sen. Ted Cruz, greet supporters during a campaign rally at Glorious Way Church in Houston, on Sept. 21, 2026. Brett Coomer—Houston Chronicle via Getty Images

Talarico, by contrast, is downright bland. A high school debater and amateur Danny Zuko in Grease, he led a statewide campaign against tuition hikes while an undergrad at the University of Texas at Austin. He then joined Teach For America, which had him teaching sixth graders from one of the poorest zip codes in San Antonio. “My students weren't just kids, they were survivors. They were fighters,” he says. Two years later, Talarico signed-on with an education non-profit and earned a master's degree from Harvard. In 2018, he ran for state legislature and was its youngest member that session at age 29. Even in the political minority, 16 bills he wrote became law.

In his personal life, he followed in his grandfather’s footsteps and joined the seminary, where he is still completing those studies. Most Sunday mornings, he is somewhere in Texas guest preaching as he makes the case for his campaign.

Talarico says he is ready to work with Republicans in Washington to advance a mutual agenda, including his first proposed bill tackling corruption by banning super PACs, gerrymandering, and members of Congress from trading stocks. “That's exactly what I did in the state legislature. I worked in a Republican-dominated body, very conservative colleagues, and I built real relationships with those Republican lawmakers,” Talarico tells me. “If I can do it in the trenches of the Texas legislature, I can do it with Ted Cruz in Washington, D.C.”

Republicans have focused their attacks on Talarico’s past, much of it around his positions on transgender issues. As a state lawmaker, he voted against restrictions targeting transgender student-athletes and opposed a ban on gender-affirming transition healthcare for minors. He also said during a committee hearing in 2021 that "modern science obviously recognizes that there are many more than two biological sexes. In fact, there are six, which honestly... surprised me, too."

Talarico has since partially walked back both of those stances, calling some of his past comments “cringy” and telling all who ask that he missed the mark. “I will oppose trans athletes playing in girls’ sports if it risks safety or fairness,” he recently said on Fox News. He has also softened his criticism of polluting energy sources, insisting he is a believer in an all-of-the-above energy policy. 

Paxton isn’t about to give him a pass. In one digital ad, Paxton calls Talarico “too weird for Texas” and splices his rival’s answer about his favorite Texas drag queen—Alyssa Edwards—with clips from Edwards’ performances. At an event with Cruz last week at Glorious Way Church in Cypress, Paxton dug in on the strategy, suggesting he viewed the transgender issue as among the most important in the race: “Protecting kids is not a culture war; it's our job description. In Texas, parents raise children—not the government, not a doctor.” 

A supporter cheers during Talarico’s speech at a rally at the Wheeler Avenue Baptist Church in Houston, on Sept. 13, 2026. Photograph by Brenda Bazán for TIME

As Talarico tries to expand his coalition in Texas, he's also working to shore up support among a pivotal part of his base: Black voters. It is almost impossible for a Democrat to win the state without turning out that bloc. It’s why Talarico’s team had planned multiple events earlier this month at or near Texas Southern University, one of the country’s largest historically Black universities. 

A back-to-school rally in a sparkling, renovated community center in Houston’s Emancipation Park was replete with a DJ, facepainting for kids, and food. Yet only a few dozen people were milling about at an event that could have hosted hundreds. Soon, word spread that even Talarico would be a no-show because of a scheduling conflict. (As attendees put the pieces together, a Democratic strategist not working on his campaign joked: “I get it. If the room’s empty, they don't come.”)

It was all very much at odds with Talarico’s brand as the tireless campaigner packing rooms and constantly hustling to reach every Texan. The campaign plays more than a bit faintly here in Harris County, home to the biggest Black population of any county in the United States. Talarico’s primary against Crockett, a firebrand U.S. House member, turned into a heated battle between two rising stars. Many of Crockett’s supporters viewed the contest as racially charged, and felt some Talarico backers were implying that only a white man could possibly break Democrats' statewide drought in Texas. When one podcaster suggested donations to Crockett were wasted money, the backlash briefly consumed the race. 

For some, the wounds are still raw, and Crockett’s refusal to campaign with her one-time foe has been impossible to ignore. “James and Jasmine Crockett need to come together. People need to see them together,” says Barry Esceme of Houston, who supported Talarico in the primary. “The Democratic Party has chosen Talarico. We need to rally.”

Black Democratic strategists have been warning for years that Democrats risk losing Black voters if they take that support for granted. In Texas, they make up about 13% of the state’s voters. 

“As U.S. Senator, I'll represent the most number of African Americans than any other Senator,” Talarico tells me. “So this kind of outreach, this kind of investment, this kind of listening is essential—not just to win, but also to be effective in the job.”

Talarico’s advisers argue they are in better shape than many realize, pointing to polling that shows him running better than Beto O’Rourke did with Black voters at roughly the same point in the 2018 cycle. O’Rourke had 49% support of Black voters in the late summer edition of that 2018 poll. A TSU poll from this August found 67% of Black voters supporting Talarico.

But the sparsely attended event where Talarico ultimately didn’t show suggests he still has work to do. Things go more according to plan the next evening at Wheeler Avenue Baptist, where a filled hall is vibing as a DJ spins crowd favorites. Tables of boxed fried chicken from a beloved local chain, Frenchy’s, are popular draws, as is the campaign merchandise. And while the 12,000-member church has a long history as a hub of Civil Rights activism, the crowd in the fellowship hall that evening is as diverse as Talarico’s idealized coalition.

Talarico supporters cheer as he enters the venue at the Wheeler Avenue Baptist Church in Houston on Sept. 13, 2026. Photograph by Brenda Bazán for TIME

There, Letitia Plummer, a candidate for Harris County Judge, introduces her ticketmate as someone whose evolution from the primary to the general election is worth celebrating. During the primary, Talarico got dinged hard for not specifically addressing policy needs of Black voters. He has since brought on a top-tier flight of advisers and consultants, met with Black leaders, and made a point of listening to their ideas. In May, he rolled out a maternal mortality health policy because, as he tells me, “Harris County, where we're standing right now, is the deadliest place to give birth for a Black woman in the whole country.” At the state party’s convention in June, he stood and took a drubbing from Black caucus members who peppered him with skepticism. The whole effort has brought hard-earned credibility. “He understands how important our Harris County is,” Plummer says.

It’s a point that Plummer continues to explain to me after the rally, as Talarico was taking pictures with visitors for more than an hour. 

“I ran in 2018. I remember the Beto wave. This is different. This is deeper,” she tells me. “And I don’t think we’ve ever been this close. I really don’t.” 

Talarico understands that luck and charisma won’t shake loose Texas Democrats’ long dry spell. It’s going to take a generational break in a status quo that is as closely associated with Texas as faith, football, and barbecue. 

“We live in a country with broken politics and backwards priorities, but we can change that. We can turn that around,” Talarico says as he closes at the church near Texas Southern. “We can protect our immigrant neighbors and prosecute the Epstein class. We can make billionaires pay their fair share in taxes and ensure that every single child in this state has access to a quality public education. And we can end this disastrous war in Iran and ensure that no American goes bankrupt just because they get sick.”

They’re ambitious goals. Perhaps as big as the tent he’s trying to build in the middle of deep-red Texas.