956 Artivists
Creating Through Erasure: How a Nonbinary Artist in the RGV is Dealing with HB 229
Story by Melissa Cortes Santiago
Edited by Abigail Vela
- June 19, 2025
Since the beginning of the year, things have felt heavy. Almost every day, there are news updates on nationwide immigration raids, climate disasters, and new legislation that cuts healthcare and social safety nets. Here in Texas, the story is no different.
The 89th Legislative session concluded at the beginning of June, bringing new policies that will impact our communities. Among them is House Bill 229, also known as a “sex definition” law. The bill narrowly defines “man” and “woman” based solely on reproductive organs and applies these new definitions across state records. The bill affects trans and nonbinary people in Texas and attempts to erase their gender identity from state records by forcing them to use the sex they were assigned at birth.
The ACLU of Texas described the law as a targeted threat against trans, nonbinary, and intersex Texans.
“It threatens to further strip away legal protections that shield us from discrimination. Instead of trying to erase trans and intersex people, state officials should focus on addressing real issues like funding our public schools and increasing access to health care for all Texans,” said Ash Hall (they/them), policy and advocacy strategist for LGBTQIA+ rights at the ACLU of Texas, in a press release.
It’s hard to imagine, but despite these laws, trans and nonbinary artists in the RGV are not giving in to hopelessness or despair. They continue to live and create in a state that does not want them to exist.
Creating Despite the Fear
Jenn Peña (they/them) is a nonbinary ceramic and collage artist based in the Rio Grande Valley, working at a local pottery studio. Their work is rooted in nature, uncertainty, ancestral memories, and the messy beauty of survival.
“I’ve taken all that I learned from my family and our culture and the stories they told me growing up, and I used that to create artwork from Mother Earth,” said Jenn.
Jenn’s journey into art began at an early age, as they spent more time with their dad, a hands-on person who loved to build and fix things. This experience completely shifted their idea of what art could be. College opened up even more possibilities by introducing Jenn to the world of sculpture, jewelry, woodwork, and ceramics. It was in ceramics and working with clay that they found the most profound connection.
“I love the feel of clay. I love the smell of clay, it smells like the earth,” they said. “It brings back memories of when I was a kid, being outside with my mom and my abuela.”
That connection to the earth and emotion is also present in their collage work. “I can take images from just scraps of paper and create these pieces that show what’s happening or what I feel within me,” Jenn said.“There’s a lot of movement in my artwork, but that really is just like me on the inside. My brain never stops.”
Jenn says the dominant emotion they try to express in their work is uncertainty, a feeling that follows them in life. Still, despite the uncertainty and fear, they continue to create.
“I learned recently that I could use my artwork as activism,” they said. “I started making mugs that say ‘Hija de inmigrantes.’”
A Future That Holds Us All
That fear of being seen is something Jenn carries with them daily, as a nonbinary person, a child of immigrants, and as an artist.
“Just being seen will offend somebody,” they said. “That genuinely scares me. Just my existence in this world can upset someone so much that they could just call the number, and my life could be over.”
As anti-immigrant and anti-LGBTQIA+ sentiment continues to rise, laws like TX HB 229 add fuel to the fire.
“When I first heard about it, I felt fear,” Jenn said. “But to think that the state of Texas is scared of me… it somehow brings me a little bit of joy because if you’ve seen me, I’m tiny… so what are you scared of?”
Jenn came into their nonbinary identity later in life, and they describe their journey as ongoing. “I do consider myself nonbinary, but there’s still a lot more about myself that I’m learning,” they said. “I’m pretty excited, as well as scared, but we’ll see how this goes.”
What gives Jenn hope and keeps pushing them to be more visible is their daughter.
“She tells me all the time, ‘You’re my role model,’ and it hurts,” they said. “But I want her to be brave in a really scary world. I want her to speak up for herself and for those who can’t.”
Jenn hopes for a future where queer families like theirs are seen, supported, and safe, especially for children growing up outside the norm.
“It would be nice to create a space for kids,” they said. “Especially kids who come from queer families, so they know they’re not alone. We just want safety.”
Despite the fear and the policies designed to erase them, artists like Jenn continue to create, resist, and nurture community. Their stories, like their art, won’t disappear. No matter how much the State of Texas tries to legislate people out of existence, LGBTQIA+ and immigrant voices in the RGV are not going anywhere.
