The oft-controversial Jasmine Crockett is running for the U.S. Senate. Let that sink in for a minute. On Monday, the Dallas Democrat filed to challenge Republican Sen. John Cornyn, entering a race that Democrats hope will see gain seats in a narrowly divided chamber. Crockett, who joins Democrat James Talarico of Round Rock, did so as former Rep. Colin Allred exited the race to run for a newly redrawn House seat.

Texas Democrats traded a coalition-builder who’d recently run a serious statewide race for a social-media star whose incentives appear aligned with a very different goal.
Allred steps aside
Allred, who announced his run on Monday, framed the move as an effort to avoid a bruising Democratic primary that could weaken the eventual nominee against the Republican opponent. Crockett, a second-term congresswoman mostly known for going viral during acrimony-fueled verbal jousts with Republicans, represents a safe, deep-blue Dallas-based district where elections are all but over when the Democratic primary ends.
That safety gives her freedom to dabble. So, even if she loses the Senate primary against Talarico — who has already raised more than $6 million dollars — or the general election, she still walks away with what matters in the modern political marketplace: greater name recognition, a larger donor file and more leverage in media and advocacy worlds.

“I think Crockett is convinced that she has a chance to win,” said Matthew Wilson, Kairo Endowed Director of SMU’s Center for Faith and Learning. “Combine what is likely to be a bad Republican year nationally, a weakened Ken Paxton and her considerable confidence in her own abilities and appeal, and it’s not hard to see how she has talked herself into believing that she has at least a puncher’s chance.”
The unserious incentives
No Democrat has won a statewide office here since 1994, when Bob Bullock, Dan Morales, Garry Mauro and John Sharp won in the last gasp of the old Democratic bench. When Democrats have come closest, it has been with candidates built to expand the map. Beto O’Rourke’s narrow loss to Ted Cruz in 2018 resulted from his overperformance in the suburbs and exurbs.
Allred’s 2024 run, for all its shortcomings, followed a similar trajectory. He built a coalition of urban Democrats, suburban moderates and a sliver of disaffected Republicans to close the gap. He still lost by more than 8 points.

Senior data journalist G. Elliott Morris, in a recent analysis of Texas for his “Strength in Numbers” newsletter, made a simple point Democratic activists don’t like to hear: Registration numbers and national vibes can make Texas look bluer than it votes. When you look at actual election results, the state still tilts Republican by several points, cycle after cycle.
While Crockett’s brand plays well among progressive in urban centers like Dallas and Houston, it’s fingernails on a chalkboard to college-educated Republicans in suburban and rural parts of the state. Her viral, made-for-X confrontations will be prominently displayed in mailers and television ads to suburban voters.
The Paxton wildcard
There is, however, one scenario in which Democrats might reasonably see an opening: if Cornyn loses the Republican primary and Attorney General Ken Paxton emerges as the nominee. Paxton is damaged goods — impeached by the Texas House, embroiled in a divorce, and still shadowed by legal trouble. He is wildly popular with the GOP base and wildly toxic to the swing voters Democrats need.

Paxton, in other words, is the Republican version of Crockett: adored by activists, risky in a general election, and capable of putting a supposedly safe seat in play for the other party.
What Democrats are signaling
The hard constraint in Texas is not a shortage of passion on the left; it is a shortage of voters willing to vote Democratic in statewide races. It requires message discipline, coalition management and a willingness to speak about kitchen-table issues. Crockett’s talent, however, is for prosecuting arguments for folks who are already on her side.
Wilson of SMU thinks she has grown somewhat disillusioned with service in the House, as members of her own party have “made it pretty clear that they are not eager to elevate her into a leadership position, and even if Democrats retake the House next year, they are going to be stymied by a (likely) Republican Senate and (certainly) Republican White House.”
This is where the Paxton parallel shows itself: if both parties nominate candidates beloved by their bases but radioactive to suburban moderates, Democrats will have squandered a rare opportunity, as a wounded Republican nominee provides the best opportunity to take the seat.

The trial balloon as a win-win
Crockett and her supporters will say this is a bold swing at history. The historical record suggests it is something else: a trial balloon floated in a state that has been popping Democratic hopes for three decades.
If she wins the primary and loses in November, the pattern will repeat. Texas Republicans will hold every statewide office. Democrats will talk again about demographics and destiny. Crockett, like several candidates before her, will emerge more famous, more marketable and more firmly installed as a national voice — but not a Texas senator.
“Her considerable social media following and popularity among Democratic activists have, I think, convinced her that she can remain relevant as an influencer in the left-wing social media sphere even if she falls short in her Senate bid,” Wilson said. “You can get paid a lot more as a celebrity media personality than as a member of Congress.”

The real question is not whether her run is good for her. The question is whether a party that keeps losing can afford another campaign designed for social media instead of precincts, particularly when Republicans appear hellbent on serving up Paxton on a silver platter.
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