Texas Parents Reflect on National Parents Day

What does it mean to be a Texas Parent in 2026?

What does it mean to be a Texas Parent in 2026?

President Bill Clinton establish National Parents day in 1994 to honor, uplift, and support the critical role of parents and caregivers in the upbringing and development of children. Now, more than 30 years later, politicians still talk about parents and parental rights a lot when speaking about policies. So, Texas Freedom Network ask parents from six regions, “what does it mean to be a Texas parent in 2026?”

Katt Massey with megaphone at Social Studies Rules rally

Katt Massey

Amarillo, TX

“I get to raise good humans; I get to influence the future for the better.”

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Parenting in 2026 was not like parenting in 1996; I am sure of that. As parents, we must work hard to protect our children in so many areas of life. Whether it’s at school, at church, or at a friend’s house, the unknowns lurk heavier now than they did then. Are there guns? Are there predators around? The fear of dropping them off at school, because all too often many students don’t. And social media and AI…geeze. 

That’s all really heavy. But there is light.

 My brother asked me when I told him I was pregnant with my now 8-year-old daughter, “Are you sure you want to bring them into this world?”  Without hesitation, I said, “Yes, I get to raise good humans; I get to influence the future for the better.” It is hard, often, but I get a front-row seat to something magical. Magic that I have committed to fight for. Being able to use my voice to protect my children and their Texas Public School peers from the ominous “big government” is rewarding. 

I know that my children’s teachers and staff at their school are incredible, and they pour into their students  -with their whole heart, while just trying to do the best they can. I am grateful for the support they have at school. 

We must step back and enjoy the theatre class productions or the peewee baseball games while also continuing to pull the tangled threads that are making a mess of this state, while always looking for the glitter!

It’s beautiful, magical, and messy all at the same time, and would I trade it for anything? Not at all. 

For love of Texas,

Katt Massey

Mother and Daughter making silly faces at camera

Aylín Heredia

El Paso, Texas

“We are raising tough, resilient, and inquisitive kids. Kids who will be able to take on anything and advocate for themselves, perhaps in ways we didn’t know we could.”

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I’ve been ruminating on this question all weekend, especially on our way to ballet. My thoughts get interrupted by my daughter. She tells me she doesn’t want to be a ballerina anymore. Ouch! I thought it would be great for her to learn a different kind of discipline and to teach her balance and structure, both literally and metaphorically. But she doesn’t want to be that anymore – it’s all good. We’ll find something else she likes. 

I question my parenting, just the usual amount, nothing too crazy. She’ll be ok; she doesn’t have to practice ballet. I’m empowering her by allowing her to choose what she wants to do. Right? 

She gets rowdy with her fellow ballerinas after class. She tells them how much she loves to paint; she’s loud and decisive. 

We get a burrito and a hot chocolate after class – my favorite routine. She doesn’t like the hot chocolate. I tell her the only constant is change. She rises against the unjust system of insipid hot chocolate and demands reform – she asks whether it’s okay to tell the barista next time that her hot chocolate wasn’t great and whether he could perhaps add more sweetener. She’s kind and redeeming. 

Why am I saying this? Because our kids, untainted by the world’s viciousness, are so free in their choices and decisions. They’re not confined to a particular set of thoughts, which makes me hopeful. 

It goes without saying that the weight of tragedy is heavy on my mind and in my heart. I work in local government, and I hear everything from data centers to housing emergencies to utility rate cases, and the lot. My vision grows cloudy; it becomes hard to breathe; I see and feel nothing but hopelessness. Hopelessness that both our federal and state governments are failing our constituents. Hopelessness at the lack of opportunities and resources we have for our neighbors. The job is gut-wrenching. I think about my daughter; I think about her future. 

I think about the resources that could be gone by the time she’s of age. I think about the opportunities she might not have as a Hispanic Latina. I think about how her future preferences might instill fear in her; I think and think and think. How can I remedy this for her?

But I see her leading her fellow ballerinas, advocating for her hot chocolate preferences, asking the 101 questions to satisfy her curious brain, all of which calms my fears. I can stay a little longer in the present; enjoy her childhood. She’s already growing up to be a great kid. 

I think that’s the beauty of us, millennial parents. We are raising tough, resilient, and inquisitive kids. Kids who will be able to take on anything and advocate for themselves, perhaps in ways we didn’t know we could. Kids who are questioning everything and striving for meaningful change, perhaps in ways we weren’t successful. 

So when you ask me what it means to be a parent in Texas, I can tell you that even when I think everything is going to fail, I still feel hopeful. I am a hopeful parent because I know I have a kind, loving kid and that she will be okay. 

Headshot of Kimmie Fink

Kimmie Fink

Liberty Hill, Texas

“I see part of my parental responsibility as advocating for better for ALL Texas students — by staying informed, campaigning for pro-public ed candidates, voting, and making my voice heard in the public square.”

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As an active duty military family, we’ve raised our kids in five different states. There are pros and cons to every place, but we’ve found something to love about each. We live in the best little neighborhood in Central Texas, where kids play outside, ride their bikes, and run in and out of each others’ houses — knowing there’s always a trusted adult around the corner. I love the feeling of community that we have here in Texas.

But living here also means worrying about my children — and right now, top of my mind is the kind of education they will get as public school students. And let me be clear that my concern is not with their teachers. The educators who have cared for and taught my kids are among the very best — data-driven, dedicated, and encouraging. I take issue with the state legislature that has utterly failed to adequately fund our schools at the same time they funnel public tax dollars to private schools via vouchers and try to control public schools’ every move.

As a parent, I’m deeply troubled by the way Christian nationalism has pervaded public education in this state — a violation of the Establishment Clause of the U.S. Constitution, the religious freedom rights of children and families, and the parental rights supposedly afforded by the State of Texas. The people making decisions about public education here in Texas are taking an extremist ideology and turning it into policy in our neighborhood schools — Ten Commandments posters, required Bible readings, periods of prayer, and more.

The Texas State Board of Education has also committed itself to perpetuating the myth of what historians Bryan Burrough, Chris Tomlinson, and Jason Stanford have termed the “Heroic Anglo Narrative.” Through their new social studies standards, they have omitted key historical events, shown religious favoritism, and sidelined the contributions of people of color — all via a wildly problematic chronological structure that goes against everything we know about child development. I worry constantly that my children won’t learn accurate history, and I lose sleep knowing that if the same people remain in power, science is next.

I see part of my parental responsibility as advocating for better for ALL Texas students — by staying informed, campaigning for pro-public ed candidates, voting, and making my voice heard in the public square. Being a parent in Texas in 2026 means doing my part at home to raise kind, inclusive, critical thinkers by exposing them to real history and science as well as different worldviews. Above all, my task is to ensure that my children understand and internalize that being a Texan doesn’t mean one single thing.

Kaitlyn Kash and family

Kaitlyn Kash

Central Texas

“I believe there is far more that unites us than divides us—and when more of us speak up, get involved, and insist our leaders reflect the Texas we know and experience every day, we can build a Texas where every family has the freedom to make their own healthcare decisions, every child has access to a strong public education, and every parent can believe their family has a future here.”

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To me, it means loving this state deeply while carrying a constant awareness that the systems meant to support families are becoming harder to rely on. As a mother, I want to know that if I or my children need healthcare, we’ll receive it without politics standing between us and our doctors. As the parent of young children in public schools, I also want to know they’ll have access to the strong public schools every Texas child deserves. Instead, I’ve spent the last several years speaking publicly for both reproductive healthcare and public education—not because I set out to become an advocate, but because these issues have become impossible to ignore when you’re raising a family here.

I’ll be honest—there are days when I wonder if it would be easier to leave Texas. But then I attend a community event, meet another parent, or get introduced to someone who’s quietly working to make our state better, and I’m reminded those people are everywhere. I recently saw a comedian joking that the Texas state motto is “Friendship,” and I laughed because I’d completely forgotten that’s actually true. I remember learning it as a kid, and it made me realize that’s still the Texas I experience. It’s the Texas I want my kids to grow up knowing too. The rhetoric can make it feel like we’re supposed to see each other as opponents, but that isn’t what I find when I show up in my community. That’s why I stay. Because I believe there is far more that unites us than divides us—and when more of us speak up, get involved, and insist our leaders reflect the Texas we know and experience every day, we can build a Texas where every family has the freedom to make their own healthcare decisions, every child has access to a strong public education, and every parent can believe their family has a future here.

Philip Martin with child

Philip Martin

Austin, Texas

“How do you navigate school schedules, after care and sports, ear infections, and support their hopes and dreams when there is so much disruption and chaos and incompetence in the world? When you care so much, and a lot of people in charge care so little, you have to build the best community around you that you can.”

Felicia Martin and Daughter

Felicia Martin

Round Rock, Texas

“As a queer mom in Texas, I’ve accepted that my daughter’s education won’t end when the school bell rings. We’ll have to teach the history that politicians leave out, introduce her to the people they erase, and remind her that our family belongs in the story of Texas just as much as anyone else’s.”

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