Texas Standard8月 2026のための市場シェア分析

Allyson Michele/Texas Standard It’s just before the holidays in McAllen, a town of 130,000 on the U.S.-Mexico border. Basilisa Valdez sits in the kitchen at her sister’s house, waiting for relatives to arrive. Here, that means some come from across town, and some from Reynosa, just across the river in Mexico. Before 2008, when a concrete and steel border fence went up along the Rio Grande, she says the two cities could seem like one. But after the wall, she says it’s tough for people who’ve spent most of their lives seeing the borderlands as a single entity. President-elect Donald Trump and border-wall proponents forget that for decades before 9/11, passage between the U.S. and Mexico was easy, especially for the towns separated by just a sliver of the Rio Grande. Families spread out and set down roots on either side, creating a web of cultural interconnectivity – a unique shared identity. “When I see the wall, I feel like they’re trying to separate people,” she says. “I feel like we’re not united.” She was born in Mexico and came to Texas four decades ago looking for work. “When I was young I worked in a daycare,” she says. “I learned English in less than six months.” Since then, Valdez built a successful career and became a U.S. citizen. Her father still lives on the other side of the border, and so does her niece, Dayna de la Cruz, a social worker in Reynosa. She’s visiting today and doing some Christmas shopping in the U.S. De la Cruz feels welcome here but hates seeing the wall as she passes into McAllen. “Muy mal, Muy mal.” The wall is bad for the people and it’s an unnecessary expense, de la Cruz says in Spanish. Neither de la Cruz or Valdez agrees with Trump’s calls to expand the wall. The costs to the community are too high, they say, especially for something that doesn’t work. “It’s just a waste of money,” Valdez says. “That’s not going to stop the people from coming over. There’s always a way to come in.” Texas Rep. Ponc