Look, I’m a crier.
I get misty-eyed at adorable babies and beautiful brides, so you can imagine what a nightmare it is to sit near me when I report on tragedies.
Still, I was gobsmacked when I began to write my year-in-review piece — a simple assignment! I’ve done dozens of them over my career! — and found myself weeping into a voice memo to our managing editor and sending a late-night, saccharine message to our all-staff Slack channel.
See, it was miraculous when we scraped together enough money to launch a newsroom 16 months ago. I had a clear vision of what The Barbed Wire could be, but it required a lot of things to go right. By the grace of God, I somehow managed to convince a handful of people who’d largely decided to leave this toxic ouroboros of an industry to try just one more time.
I did not even dare to dream that with a roll of duct tape, some shoe string, and a full-time editorial staff of five, our little newsroom would publish the most important stories of my career.
You already know 2025 has been a hard one for Texans.
Our headlines were filled with more horror, tears, and blood than joy or exuberance. Since we’re reporting from inside our own communities, we have a personal stake in the stories we tell — a journalistic tradition the best local newspapers acknowledge. Having a team that purposefully includes marginalized voices means our work and lives have been impacted by the intensity of the news cycle, too.
We published stories on the free speech crisis for Black Americans and the journalists who’ve been seized by ICE while David Ellison was promising President Donald Trump he’d revamp CNN and installing Bari Weiss at CBS News. When I wrote this draft, I didn’t even know she’d soon spike a “60 Minutes” story about the men Trump’s administration sent to a brutal prison in El Salvador.
Likewise, when Condé Nast decimated Teen Vogue — once a home for young, diverse writers to produce incisive content — we were strategizing on a more robust pipeline for journalists of color in Texas. After NBC eliminated the teams behind NBC BLK, NBC Latino, and NBC Out, we launched a queer vertical.
My most passionate, unshakeable belief is that our diversity, vulnerability, and tenacity defines our journalism for the better — and makes for wrenching, impactful storytelling that can change lives.
Still, I wasn’t sure who else believed.
Then I looked back at how we’ve supplemented our extremely modest resources through partnerships and collaborations, from MSNBC (sorry, I still need to call it that) and The 19th* to The Contrarian and the Pulitzer-winning Investigative Reporting Workshop at American University. We even received a grant from the Pulitzer Center.
Those places clearly believe too.
It turns out, so do y’all. Because you opened and read our stories more than a million times.
That number is, frankly, insane.
It’s also proof that people still want journalism that tells the truth, even when it’s upsetting or holds powerful people to account.
The fact that we’re getting recognized isn’t just about vanity. It’s validating because we’re taking real risks by going against the grain of corporate, mainstream media.
To be completely candid, there were more times than I’d like to admit when we weren’t sure how to keep the lights on. Times I had to take a medical leave, and my team kept The Barbed Wire going. Times powerful people threatened to sue us for exposing their own wrongdoing.
To keep us afloat, there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do: I will continue drawing your pets on Bluesky until journalism is saved or my wrist gives out, whichever comes first.
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Make no mistake, we are in a battle for survival. To put it bluntly, supporting independent journalism has never mattered more than it does at this moment. Especially gutsy, fearless reporting with grit like we produce at The Barbed Wire.
We believe that in order to inform, journalism must remain accessible to everyone. That’s why our stories and newsletters are free. We have no corporate overlords pushing us towards fascism, but we also have no pile of cash to weather a recession (or vibe-cession or whatever is making corny dogs cost more).
So if you’re able, please support us by becoming a member or by gifting our hard-working journalists some coffee money (there’s no Keurig in our fully remote office).
Whatever you can give, know that we’ll put it to exceptional use. Keep reading for proof that we operate like a journalism version of “Chopped,” except the mystery basket isn’t Cheeto dust and old lemons. Instead it’s grants, fellows, public information requests, and raw panic.
The Barbed Wire’s 2025
We started the year with a bang: In January, Managing Editor Cara Kelly’s story on the impact of abortion bans detailed how mothers and babies have been harmed by new laws. It also earned her a spot on The Daily Beast’s podcast, The New Abnormal.
A week later, we published an extraordinary essay from contributor Jake Rhodes on the experience of taking — and becoming addicted to — synthetic heroin that can be purchased at gas stations in Texas. It was later cited by the Houston Chronicle in a policy-focused editorial, then legislation was proposed to regulate synthetic heroin and close legal loopholes.
I’ve never read anything else like it.
That same month — our fifth in existence — The Barbed Wire cohosted a forum in Austin, where I asked tough questions of the candidates vying to lead the Democratic National Committee. This was my very last question:
The Democratic coalition is not exactly represented on this stage today; none of the candidates here are people of color, all are men, the youngest is in his 40s, and none of y’all have worked a service industry or building trades jobs in a long, long time. How are you the right people to lead the Democratic coalition, and ensure that experiences, values, and priorities of young people, people of color, working class folks, queer folks, and women – all of whom the Democratic Party must engage in order to win – are reflected in the Party’s work?
Afterward, Maryland Gov. Martin O’Malley walked off stage abruptly, while Ken Martin — who won the chairmanship — shook my nervous, sweaty hand and thanked me.
In February, we published a heavyweight investigation by Riya Misra, who was still a senior at Rice University. She interviewed a whopping 26 former students and industry insiders, revealing a pattern of accusations spanning 30 years against famed horn professor William VerMeulen — claims they say Rice administrators knew about and failed to act on. Today, VerMeulen remains the principal hornist and an endowed chair at the Grammy Award-winning Houston Symphony, where former students say he still teaches privately.
That story was part of an innovative partnership between The Barbed Wire and the editorially independent student publication The Rice Thresher, where copies were printed all over campus.
Riya’s reporting was picked up by myriad publications and cited in The Washington Post. More importantly, we were inundated with dozens of messages and comments from women who thanked Riya for her work and corroborated the allegations.
After Riya left us for Politico magazine, a man I’d never met approached me at the Texas Tribune Festival in November to tell me that another story of hers was the best he read on the Summer Willis Act, which closed loopholes in rape prosecutions in Texas. That piece was also shared on Instagram by Monica Lewinsky (!!!).
Senior Editor Brian Gaar made his mark this year too, covering everything from Elon Musk’s video game cheating and the scam of Texas’ school voucher bills to Austin’s comedy scene and Texas’ 17 new constitutional amendments.
Brian’s biting political analysis is only matched by his sentimentality, humor, and gigantic heart. That means he can produce both a scathing review of Texas’ official history museum (which was shared online by U.S. Rep. Joaquin Castro) and a thoughtful, hilarious essay about “King of the Hill.” The latter got him invited on the podcast City Cast Austin to chat about the show and what it means to Texans. Reading it might just heal your complicated relationship with our strange state.
But my favorite from Brian this year was the sweet memory he shared about meeting Hollywood legend Rob Reiner, who was murdered in his home this month. It was filled with light in a time of darkness. Readers called it “unique and candid and beautiful” and “exactly the sort of story we needed to hear today.”
Leslie Rangel, our deputy managing editor, has cemented herself as a force for good in the world through her investigative chops, deep well of empathy, and passion for telling hard truths — about abortion, growing up Latina in Texas, and immigration.
She spent weeks reporting out the story of Emmanuel Gonzalez, a 15-year-old with an intellectual disability who walked away from his mom’s fruit stand in October. Though his mom filed a missing person’s report within hours, Houston Police called ICE instead of reuniting them.
After 48 days, three editorials from The Houston Chronicle, repeated requests for comment from The Barbed Wire, grueling legal work by attorneys and the advocacy organization FIEL, contentious city council meetings, tearful press conferences, and intercessions from politicians like Congressman Al Green, Emmanuel was finally released. It turned out that his mother’s anguish and anger were unstoppable forces.
Emmanuel’s story, which we copublished with The 19th*, was republished by The Contrarian, shared online by Flipboard, featured in Apple News’ top stories, linked in The Washington Post’s Early Brief newsletter, and cited by Politico.
“The way she wrote this is honest, mindful, and poetic,” said Cathi Rae, a member of Autism Moms of Houston, on Instagram. “She told the story through my eyes and carried the weight of what happened to a special needs boy who should’ve been brought straight back to his mother. I’m grateful she wrote it the way she did. The article is beautiful because it refuses to look away from the truth.”
When immigration agents began disappearing the families of kindergarteners and college freshmen, Leslie reported on the nearly one million students in Texas who have at least one undocumented parent. Somehow, amid the cruelty, Leslie managed to make that piece about hope, and about community members volunteering their time to help strangers.
In August, during the redistricting battle and Democrats’ quorum break, Leslie and I wrote about Rep. Nicole Collier’s Texas House protest, which one reader called, “Hands down, the best piece on the swirl of events around Rep. Nicole Collier, the threat to arrest her, and the wellspring of support that has emerged.”
When I took medical leave, Cara led our newsroom as interim editor, publishing a devastating investigation in June by contributor Sam Judy about the death of Felita Bailey in Amarillo. She’s also the reason we presented a panel at the Investigative Reporters and Editors conference later that month called “Me Too isn’t over: Lessons from both sides of sexual harassment and violence investigations.”
Sam went on to write impactful story after impactful story for us, including one on Palestinian protester Leqaa Kordia, who remains in ICE detention even now, and one on Ward Sakeik, a Palestinian wedding photographer who was held in detention for 141 days despite an order of supervision that allowed her to legally stay in the country.
Cara, who formerly worked at the Investigative Reporting Workshop, brought years of research with her that turned into this profoundly important reporting on the history of anti-trans legislation across the country. With the help of many interns and fellows, Cara paints a clear picture of how a since-forgotten city ordinance in Houston turned into anti-trans laws in 19 states.
Director of Operations Billy Begala has written several sharp stories, and his father (and a legend in his own right) Paul Begala penned a heartfelt tribute to University of Texas superfan Scott Wilson, who attended 594 football games in a row before he passed away this year. The piece was featured in the UT athletic director’s newsletter. Legendary football coach Mack Brown, Quarterback Colt McCoy, and other members of Longhorn Nation shared memories of a fallen friend with Paul.
Contributor Steven Monacelli has done excellent work for us, from essays and analysis to investigations. That includes this thorough review of the federal investigation into an attack on an ICE facility near Dallas. Steven found that there were repeated changes to the official narrative, a rush by officials to blame an entire group for what appeared to be the actions of one man, and claims by defendants of political persecution. He was rightfully recognized as Dallas’s Best Reporter by D Magazine this year.
Contributor Cat Cardenas wrote about how she’s spent most of her adult life watching Texas lawmakers villainize Latino immigrants like her grandparents — and how strange it feels to celebrate a country that doesn’t love you back.
Taylor Crumpton, another contributor, wrote about how everything we love in America was made by Black people — and about how watching Olandria Carthen and Nicolas Vansteenberghe, also known as Nicolandria, on Love Island USA might just have helped heal some of our national wounds around interracial dating.
When contributor Paul Flahive brought us a pitch on an historic trial of police officers in San Antonio, nearly nobody — statewide or nationally — was paying attention. We published his first piece in October. By the time we published the second one in November, we were competing with The New York Times.
This fall, we launched our first vertical, Big & Bright, showcasing the joy and resilience of LGBTQ+ Texans, of which there are 1.8 million. In my opening essay for the section, I came out publicly for the first time in an extremely vulnerable essay. It was our first to be featured by Longreads.
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We then hired contributor Kit O’Connell to lead that section, which they kicked off with a moving essay about working in Texas as a trans journalist. It was shared online by GLAAD. (Yeah, that’s the place Taylor Swift wrote about!)
Since launching, we’ve covered queer weddings, queer line-dancing, gay campgrounds, the erasure of Pride crosswalks, the success of queer pop stars, the history of gay cowboys, drag queen activists, powerhouse wrestlers, and gay proposals on the floor of the Texas House of Representatives.
“As Gov. Abbott and others try to marginalize and erase anyone who isn’t a cis white man in Texas, it’s important to remember just how diverse and vibrant the state and its people really are,” one reader told us.
“Texas needs more of this,” she added. “Texans deserve more of this.”
There’s another reader email I still think about, months after it arrived in my inbox.
Right when I returned from my aforementioned medical leave, disaster struck in Kerrville on July 4 weekend, and it hit us all hard. Leslie, Riya, and I worked around the clock on a series of gutting pieces on the floods that weekend.
Then I received this message.
If, as that reader said, our reporting has helped you understand Texas or “recover your humanity,” please consider helping us stay alive.
Thank you so much for your support.
We love you, and we’re endlessly grateful that we get to continue publishing a mix of impactful investigations, witty personal essays, and incisive political analysis. No corporate capitulation; just clarity and plain language.
I’ll even keep drawing your pets if you’ll let me.
Xoxo,
Olivia