Austin, 27 March 2026  Performative Texan

Loving Texas, despite everything.

Damn I love Texas, I say. I truly do, I repeat, and I wonder whether that has something to do with the fact that I’m from Bavaria.

I buy a pin in one of the many second‑hand shops. I want to put it on my handbag collection right away. I drop it, straight into my new cowboy boots, the tip turned just enough to poke into my skin. I can’t take the boot off, because then it would drive straight into my foot. I laugh, sit on the shop floor, my hand deep inside my boot, while the shop assistant breaks a clothes hanger. She is so, so, so sorry, as if it were her fault, and I laugh even more when I finally manage to grab it.
Another good story for the books, I shout and hold it up triumphantly between my fingers. She looks at me sadly, as if my life were something to pity.

Damn I love Texas, I say, fully aware that Austin is an oasis in Texas.

I sit by the water, right at the river, Barton Springs, in the middle of the city. It reminds me of the Eisbach or the Isar in Munich, only here you have to pay admission. It is beautiful, the water cold, green and crystal clear, and behind the trees the Austin skyline rises. Four girls are talking next to me.

I brought this book!
Oh my god, you are so perfomative.
Yeah, they are all talking about it on TikTok, but I feel like mine is even more perfomative.
Oh my goooood, yours is sooooo perfomative, main character much?
That’s so intellectual of you.
You’re like: ‘I’ll learn something’. Like, ‘I’m getting educated’, and I’m over here, like, ‘I love smut’.
You both are perfomative, I’ll never read anything, you can’t make me.

I put my The Best American Essays 2025 book back in my bag and go swimming.

Damn I love Texas, I say, tilt my head back and smile into the sunlight under the pride flag.

I go to the rodeo. I’m excited for the rodeo. I have no idea what to expect. I am naïve, clueless.
Before the show begins, everyone stands up. They say the pledge of allegiance, they pray, they sing the national anthem, they thank the troops. I stand among them with my mouth open. I don’t close it again for the next two hours as I watch men on horses and bulls being thrown around like dolls until they fall off, as they chase small calves that have been kept in tiny cages under deafening noise, only to rope them immediately. The calf is slammed to the ground, the crowd cheers. Children cling to sheep, the child who holds on the longest wins. His mother wears a glittering suit, glittering boots and a glittering cowboy hat, and her white teeth look freshly painted. I get goosebumps nonstop, I don’t know what to do with myself, I’m overwhelmed, I go outside to smoke. The only other smoker is an Irish woman who tells me several times in a thick Irish accent: What the fuck is this, they are mental, what the fuck is this place!

Damn, I love Texas, I say, and go paddling on the river, take a trip to Lake Travis, play cards under blooming trees, meet the nicest people.

I’m in a bar full of cool people, the bar is beautiful and smells of palo santo. I overhear two guys next to me talking about the women they’ve hooked up with recently.
And then I hit her, he lowers his voice, but I can still hear it, I hit her cervix, so it hurt her.
What’s a cervix?
You know, like… He takes out his phone and googles.
Oh, you mean like, the neck?
No, bro, look, he says, and they put their heads together and stare at the screen.
Ooooooooh, his buddy answers.
Yeah, he says, grinning proudly.
Later I talk to two women. One works for an organization that helps women leave the state to get an abortion. The other works for an organization that supports women after sexual assault. When they say goodbye, they warn me.
Never ever leave your drink alone.
Please, never. Always hold it in your hand!
Also here? I ask, looking around the very hip, left‑leaning bar.
Especially here, they say.

Damn, I love Texas, I say. I see a guy wearing a “What the fuck is a kilometer” shirt. I see a poster warning against abortion. I see a “PROUD AMERICAN” bumper sticker. No, but I still do, I repeat, and I can’t quite explain it, can’t understand what it is, can’t help myself. I feel at home in Austin, the green oasis in a conservative Texas with a culture that fascinates me.