
byErika González
At 4 a.m., Yeni Renderos’ alarm went off, just like every other day. Half-asleep, she made coffee, woke her 16-year-old daughter and drove her to school before climbing into her truck, “Rosendo,” as she affectionately called it. For 10 years, that routine had defined her life in Houston, driving to construction sites, convinced her life was finally moving forward.
But that Monday was different. Renderos’ boss called to confirm what she feared most: “You can’t keep working, Yeni, she recalled him saying. “The rules for commercial licenses have changed.”

byNoemi Castanon
Four authors featured in the new anthology “¡Somos Tejanas!” told the Texas Book Festival Saturday that they will not be silenced in times like these, when many Latinos feel threatened. “The reason that this book was made is because women are under attack in the United States and Latinos in general are being kidnapped,” said […]

byShunya Carroll
Soo-Hee Kang has traveled 7,000 miles to media at the University of Texas school of radio, television and film. The distance made Kang feel hopeless when the president of South Korea placed her country under martial law.
“After the martial law ended,” Kang said, “I became very angry and felt like I had to do something — even from far away.”

byMichael Nolan
Nestled deep in the Amazon basin, a makeshift house sits alongside a rustic nut storage facility. Two of the occupants of this house in Peru’s remote Madre de Dios District might be the last chance of survival for the endangered language Iñapari.
Meanwhile, over 3,000 miles away, a doctoral student is huddled over his laptop at the University of Texas at Austin. Barrett Hamp, a UT doctoral student in linguistics, has dedicated his research since 2019 to recording the indigenous language in Peru to prevent it from disappearing. “Once a language is gone, it’s gone. There’s no reviving it,” Hamp said.