I, Too, Am Texas
by Dr. Ellen Kimbrough Alexandrakis
Texas has been a battleground over religion in public schools for decades. In 2009, the State Board of Education (SBOE) rewrote its science standards and fought over how, or if, to teach evolution. When scientists urged the board to provide more definitive evidence of evolution in the teaching standards, SBOE board chair Don McLeroy, an avowed creationist, said, "Somebody has to stand up to these experts.” The board ultimately adopted standards that invited students to question the evidence for evolution while still offering creationism as a viable theory. Because Texas buys so many textbooks, textbook authors and publishers rely on Texas learning standards to determine their books' contents. In the national K-12 textbook market, a $5.2 billion industry (Association of American Publishers, 2026), Texas is one of the largest buyers, and the pressure to sell may outweigh textbook quality in some cases. Education decisions made in Austin have long shaped what children learn in the United States, including Bible-based curriculum.
Today, Texas public education conflates profiting and proselytizing. Are the changes in Texas public education an attempt to make money or to indoctrinate students? Or both? The fight has moved to social studies standards that critics say diminish Islam's place in history and a new required reading list (another money-maker) that includes more than a dozen King James Bible passages, one outdated Jewish text, and no texts representing other faiths practiced in Texas. Hundreds of testifiers, myself included, swarmed the board's meetings in Austin to oppose the state-mandated reading list's required Bible readings. Despite our best efforts, the required reading list passed. Our pleas fell on deaf ears. Whether it was an attempt at evangelism or profiting is anyone's guess.
Texas public education also conflates patriotism and proselytizing. The new social studies standards focus on the rise of Western civilization and the American founding. Additionally, the Texas Legislature is lobbying to add “American and Texan Exceptionalism” to our students’ public education. Loving one's country is positive. The problem arises when a nation believes it has been chosen above others. Jews, Christians, and Muslims share a prophetic tradition that warns against this. No nation stands above God's judgment, and the stranger in our midst deserves justice.
What happens when proselytizing and patriotism are mixed up? There are Americans who believe Christian nationalism means you love God and your country, but they in no way align with the ideology of Christian nationalism. Christians Against Christian Nationalism defines Christian nationalism as “a political ideology that seeks to merge Christian and American identities, distorting both the Christian faith and America’s constitutional democracy” (CACN, 2026). Personally, I love my God and my country (though it is challenging at the moment), but I do not subscribe to Christian nationalism; however, I am patriotic. Patriotism, not synonymous with Christian nationalism, is a noble quality because it shows true care for a community where everyone belongs.
Christian nationalism is a minority view. A 2026 Kettering Foundation–Gallup survey analyzed by sociologist Andrew Whitehead found that only about 14 percent of Americans fully embrace the ideology. Among Republicans, only about 28 percent are true Christian nationalist supporters, and nearly half, 45 percent, resist or reject it outright (Whitehead, 2026). The Texas State Board of Education has a 10–5 Republican majority, yet by my count only two or three members' public statements align with the Christian nationalist movement. One of them, a pastor, has spoken publicly about Islam in ways that should disturb every person of faith. The reading list passed 9–5, even though I'm confident other members of the majority could have been swayed if they had the courage to vote according to their own moral consciences instead of party lines. Had just two members of the majority voted no, this list would have failed.
I wish two of them had found the courage to say what many of them surely know. The separation of church and state is the very bedrock of our nation, and without it, we leave both our places of worship and public institutions in peril. Our founding fathers were trying to save us from a theocracy, not promote one.
When I testified before the board in Austin, a young Muslim high school student stepped to the lectern. "I shouldn't have to defend my religion in the middle of algebra class," she said. She's right. She took her turn like everyone else, but she, a fifteen-year-old, had to explain to the board how its decisions, motivated by religious bias and profit potential, singled out her faith and impeded her education. She was not asking for special treatment. She was asking to belong at her own school. When students learn that only one faith is worthy of representation, school becomes a place where religious intolerance becomes the norm.
I think of American poet Langston Hughes's poem "I, Too," whose speaker is sent to eat in the kitchen when company comes and looks to the day he will sit at the table. The poem ends with the line, "I, too, am America." That student, too, is America. Someday, "they'll see how beautiful [she] is and be ashamed." Christian nationalism decides in advance who has a seat at America’s table.
Real courage shows up when communities make space for people told there is no room for them. For those in privileged positions, belonging comes naturally. Courage means stepping out of those comfortable places to ensure entire communities, regardless of faith tradition, if any, know they belong at our communal tables and, by extension, they belong in our public schools. That starts when elected leaders, congregations, and caring citizens step up to ensure everyone has a seat at America's table.