The redrawing of legislative district boundaries. A 1967 federal law requires House members be elected from single-member districts that (within each state) have nearly identical populations. House maps must be redrawn after reapportionment but before the first congressional election of each decade, based on population changes in each state revealed by the census.
Two former NBA players have said they want to play in the Women’s National Basketball Association (WNBA). Enes Kanter Freedom and Royce White announced their intent to enter the WNBA draft, claiming—falsely—that they identify as women to force the WNBA to clarify its policy, which restricts participation to women without defining what it means to be a woman. The players’ announcement followed closely on the heels of WNBA player Sophie Cunningham’s public comments that it was “common sense” that only “biological women” be permitted to compete in the WNBA. Cunningham’s comments drew competing rallies to her games, either supporting or denouncing her stance. Her statement was preceded by the first Supreme Court ruling on eligibility for female sports competitions at the school and college level, a ruling that does not apply to professional sports. In West Virginia v. B. P. J., the Supreme Court affirmed that U.S. states may legally bar transgender girls and women from female school or collegiate sports teams, leaving states to decide.
Public discussion of this issue has been deeply polarized. Some on the political left have asserted that “trans women are women” and that anyone who opposes their participation in elite women’s sports is a bigot. Meanwhile, some on the political right have presented trans women athletes as male athletes stealing women’s trophies. This is a classic case of affective polarization—a phenomenon in which people feel their identities, values, or rights are at stake. They become less willing to consider alternative perspectives and demonize those with opposing views.
My book Gender Flashpoints: The Power of Dialogue discusses how affective polarization makes discussion about topics such as women’s sports challenging, while also showing how we can use dialogue across differences to overcome it. And there have recently been glimpses of common ground on this contentious topic—including in West Virginia v. B. P. J. In that ruling, the Supreme Court unanimously ruled that it is not a violation under Title IX for US states to exclude transgender women or girls—including those who used puberty blockers to avoid going through male puberty—from female sports competitions. All nine justices agreed that sports are different from other social contexts, such as housing or employment, because physiology is central: female athletes would never win if they had to compete with males. Illustrating this, in 2017 alone, Olympic champion Tori Bowie’s lifetime best in the 100 meters was beaten 15,000 times by male athletes.
As I discuss in my book, the sex gap in sports is driven primarily by testicular production of testosterone during three crucial stages: in utero, infancy, and beginning at puberty. Scientific research shows that hormone therapy reduces some but not all of the male advantage in trans women athletes who have undergone male puberty. Moreover, there is a meaningful sex gap even among the best prepubescent athletes, due to the burst of testosterone that male children experience in infancy and early life, known as “minipuberty.”
Some progressives have argued that male athletic advantage is no different from other unfair advantages, such as coming from a wealthy family or, in swimming, having a long wingspan. But those are competitive advantages, not category advantages, such as age, weight, and sex, that justify separate competition categories in the first place. Sex differences in strength, speed, power, and endurance are pervasive—conferring male advantage across virtually every sport and competitive category. All nine justices conceded this.
The question on which three justices partially dissented and would have liked to have the lower courts do more fact-finding was whether trans women who never went through male puberty retain male advantage from early exposure to male levels of testosterone. There are good reasons to expect that they do, but no studies test this specifically.
Importantly, neither the justices nor the plaintiff’s lawyer claimed that anyone who identifies as a woman should be allowed to compete in women’s sports. Equally importantly, the majority opinion affirmed the dignity of transgender athletes, noting that their desire to compete warrants respect and that no athlete should be vilified, a necessary reminder given some of the rhetoric in this debate. The ruling also affirmed its 2020 ruling that firing an employee for being transgender violates federal law.
While the Supreme Court ruling provides a glimpse of an emerging consensus, people continue to talk past each other in public debate over this issue. For instance, while Sophie Cunningham has emphasized the need for fairness in elite sports, Minnesota Lynx coach Cheryl Reeve has stressed the importance of trans kids being allowed to participate in (recreational) sports. Both are important principles that could be reconciled with rules that, say, distinguish between high-stakes sports competitions and recreational sports. One could also envision having co-ed teams for recreational leagues among prepubescent children.
Reaching that kind of compromise, though, requires having the conversation—something some would rather avoid. Some political progressives understandably worry that the issue will continue to be weaponized by some bad-faith actors to exclude and demean transgender children and their parents. Yet, avoiding the topic will not make it go away. Indeed, the refusal of the Democratic Party or the WNBA to address people’s legitimate concerns about fairness in women’s sports has provoked backlash that has also harmed transgender people and their families. Rather than avoiding the issue, we need to engage in dialogue that recognizes competing values of fairness and inclusion and seeks compromise and common ground.
Abigail C. Saguy is Professor of Sociology and Gender Studies at UCLA and the author of Gender Flashpoints: The Power of Dialogue (Russell Sage Foundation, 2026).
In an aerial view, the Stargate Oracle AI data center campus is seen on August 26, 2026 in Abilene, Texas
Picture a family living on a quiet street in an idyllic small town. Then a data center moves in next door. Trees are knocked down for a sprawling industrial campus, an enormous windowless building rises, and a maddening hum continues day and night. The family closes its windows, abandons the backyard, and struggles to sleep. Open space disappears, electric bills rise, and the company announces plans to expand—all in the name of jobs, tax revenue, and so-called progress.
While the family is fictional, its experience is not. Across the country, communities are confronting noise, rising electricity demand, water consumption, lost open space, and data centers approved with little public discussion. These costs raise a question the technology industry would rather avoid: Are the promised benefits of the artificial-intelligence boom worth what communities are being asked to sacrifice?
President Trump shows little patience for such questions. Communities rejecting data centers are “making a mistake,” he recently declared. He claims these facilities create “tremendous amounts of jobs and money” without burdening the electrical grid because they are building their own power plants.
Once we get past the industry PR, the reality is less reassuring. Some data centers are developing their own power sources, but many will continue drawing electricity from the grid. Construction jobs can be substantial but short-lived, since the facilities require relatively few permanent workers. The benefits may spread across the economy, but higher electricity demand, water use, and noise are concentrated where the centers are built.
Trump is rehashing the technology industry’s sales pitch. America must build these centers to win the AI race with China. Economic growth, scientific breakthroughs, and greater national security will supposedly follow. These predictions are treated as certainties, while rising utility bills, depleted water supplies, and damaged neighborhoods are brushed aside as obstacles to progress. AI is inevitable, we are told. The only question is how fast we can build the infrastructure to support it.
The numbers show what that construction demands. Data centers consumed about 4.4 percent of all U.S. electricity in 2023. Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory projects that their share could reach nearly 12 percent by 2030—and possibly more than 15 percent under a high-growth scenario. Large facilities can also consume millions of gallons of water a day, forcing communities to expand water-treatment plants, power lines, and generating capacity.
What do communities receive in return? Data centers can produce considerable tax revenue, although exemptions and incentives often reduce what communities collect. They also create jobs, but fewer than promoters sometimes imply. A recent Brookings study found that a typical county gaining its first large data center added roughly 100 to 200 jobs over the following decade. That is not nothing. But neither is it the employment bonanza suggested by announcements touting multibillion-dollar investments.
Data centers do provide public benefits. They store files, run online services, and provide the computing power used in scientific research, medical advances, and other potentially valuable work. The question is one of proportion: How much electricity, water, land, public subsidies, and peace and quiet should communities surrender for benefits that remain difficult to measure and may flow primarily to distant companies and investors?
Communities are beginning to rise up in opposition. Resistance has spread across red and blue states, forcing politicians who once welcomed nearly all technology investment to reconsider. Texas Gov. Greg Abbott, a Republican, says the industry “dug its own grave” by failing to win public support. Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro and New York Gov. Kathy Hochul, both Democrats, have also responded. Shapiro imposed new transparency and environmental requirements, while Hochul ordered a one-year moratorium on new hyperscale facilities.
The industry and its allies portray this backlash as NIMBYism—the selfish resistance of people who want modern technology without accepting any inconvenience. Some opposition undoubtedly fits that description. But the label also allows corporations and officials to evade the larger question. Residents are not necessarily rejecting AI. They are asking why their communities should absorb higher utility costs, noise, and water demands without reliable information, enforceable protections, or a meaningful vote on whether a project proceeds.
Even the Trump administration’s Ratepayer Protection Pledge acknowledges the risk that households could end up paying for new power plants and transmission lines. Major technology companies have promised to obtain the power they need and cover the infrastructure costs associated with their facilities. But voluntary promises are no substitute for enforceable law.
Congress should lead the way. The administration has thrown its weight behind the industry, treating rapid construction as a national imperative while largely accepting its claims and methods. Congress should prevent companies from shifting infrastructure costs onto ratepayers. It should also require companies to disclose how much electricity and water their facilities will use, what tax benefits they will receive, and how they will limit noise and pollution.
Government at every level should strengthen the public’s voice. Residents should receive advance notice before subsidies, zoning changes, or permits are approved. Independent impact studies—paid for by developers but conducted outside their control—should be available before public hearings. Communities should also be able to negotiate enforceable agreements covering noise, water use, tax revenue, and compensation for measurable harm.
States and localities should retain authority over siting and land use, but participation must occur before a project becomes a fait accompli. The burden of proof should rest with companies seeking to transform a community, not with residents asked to explain why they value affordable electricity, clean water, open space, and a good night’s sleep.
The fictional family we met at the beginning is not standing in the way of progress. It is asking for a voice in deciding what progress means and how much it should sacrifice in its name. That voice must come before the trees are cleared, subsidies granted, and machinery switched on—not after the project becomes irreversible.
Data centers may be necessary to America’s future. But necessity does not excuse excess, secrecy, or shifting private costs onto the public. The families paying the bills and living beside these facilities should have a real say before they are built. Communities should help shape the technological future—not simply be told to live with it.
Robert Cropf is a professor emeritus of political science at Saint Louis University.
A lawyer breaks down 'rule of law' using everyday analogies—sports, board games—to explain why recent government actions threaten this founding principle.
This series from Lawyers Defending American Democracy connects the words of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution to current events that threaten democracy and the justice system. Each piece highlights the unique responsibility lawyers carry—through their oath, professional obligations, and roles in their communities—to help the public understand what’s at risk and to speak out when democratic principles are under threat. LDAD’s call to action is straightforward: as the Founders once did, we must recognize threats to constitutional values, demand accountability, and act to defend them.
Before the first No Kings rally last year, I carefully hand-lettered a sign that I thought perfectly encapsulated the day's theme. On one side, it read “IN THIS COUNTRY, THE RULE OF LAW IS KING." On the other, it read, "A GOVERNMENT OF LAWS, NOT OF MEN (John Adams)." I carried my sign proudly, certain that it would be a big hit. But the only reaction I got was someone asking me, “Are you a lawyer?” I wonder what gave me away.
Sometimes I forget that not everyone thinks the way lawyers do. Attorneys venerate the rule of law. We are acutely aware that 250 years ago, our founders – many of whom were lawyers themselves – created a nation grounded in the principle that all people and institutions, including the government itself, are accountable to the law. Indeed, we swear an oath to uphold that principle. That’s why so many of us have been in a state of constant outrage for the past 18 months, as we’ve watched the Trump administration persistently twist, ignore, and put itself above the law.
Those without legal training, however, may not share our outrage. They may find the term “rule of law” arcane, abstract, or disconnected from their daily lives. They may not understand why we’re so upset.
So, we need to do a better job of explaining ourselves. As the custodians of our nation’s foundational principle, lawyers must make clear that “rule of law” is not a technical legal concept. It is a set of straightforward ideas about fundamental fairness that everyone can agree on.
It’s actually pretty simple.
“Rule of law” means that you can’t do things the rules don’t allow.
A soccer player can’t touch the ball with their hands. An uncrowned checker can’t move backward. In the same way, it violates the rule of law when the president exercises powers that the Constitution assigns to Congress, such as waging an unauthorized war or refusing to spend money that Congress has appropriated.
"Rule of law" means that everyone is subject to the same rules.
A baseball umpire must enforce the same strike zone for both teams. If one Monopoly player gets $200 for passing Go, then the other players do too. Similarly, it violates the rule of law to prosecute James Comey for posting a photograph of shells in the shape of “86 47” while pardoning people who stormed the Capitol brandishing weapons and chanting “Hang Mike Pence.” It violates the rule of law to cancel federal grants for clean energy projects in states that voted for Harris but not in states that voted for Trump.
"Rule of law" means that the rules don’t change in the middle of the game.
Everyone knows that in football, you can’t move the goalposts after kickoff. That’s why it violates the rule of law when an immigrant who has been following the steps to obtain legal status is suddenly detained at an immigration appointment. It violates the rule of law when universities that have been receiving federal grants for scientific or medical research are threatened with the loss of those grants if they don’t change their policies regarding campus protests or diversity, equity, and inclusion.
“Rule of law” means that you can’t buy special treatment from those in authority.
Obviously, a team can’t bribe a referee to get favorable calls. A Jeopardy contestant can’t pay Ken Jennings to slip them the answers. Equally obviously, it violates the rule of law when Trump donors receive no-bid government contracts or regulatory approval for their questionable business transactions. It violates the rule of law when countries that lavishly gift Trump receive tariff relief.
"Rule of law" means that you can't be punished for exercising your rights.
Under the First Amendment, you can’t be penalized for belonging to a particular church or club or for expressing a particular opinion. In the same way, it violates the rule of law to deny a law firm access to federal courthouses because its lawyers have represented clients that Trump doesn't like. It violates the rule of law to threaten a TV station’s broadcast license because the station declines to air one of Trump’s speeches.
"Rule of law" means that before being punished, you get a chance to state your case.
If you get a parking ticket at a broken meter, you can challenge it. Athletes can request video review of unfavorable calls. Clearly, then, it violates the rule of law to send people to a notorious prison in El Salvador on the ground that they are members of Tren de Aragua without allowing them to show that they do not belong to that gang.
Lawyers describe the rule of law using terms like “separation of powers,” “equal protection,” and “due process.” At its root, however, the rule of law is about being governed by fair, transparent, and evenly applied rules, and not by the whims and selfish interests of the rulers. That principle, on which our nation was founded 250 years ago, is something that everyone should be prepared to fight for.
Arlene Rosenberg is a retired lawyer and a volunteer with Lawyers Defending American Democracy.
Texas City, Galveston County, industrial skyline. While still battling legal challenges over a map in 2021 that voting rights advocates said diluted the voting power of Black and Latino voters, Galveston County has now redrawn its precinct lines again, just months before the 2026 general election.
Galveston County’s decision to redraw local precinct lines this year between the primary and general elections means some voters could cast general election ballots in contests where they had no say in the primary, unless the courts intervene.
Election experts say they’re not aware of any prior instance where this has happened. Galveston County’s latest round of changes is adding new complications to a long-running lawsuit over the maps the county had adopted in 2021, and voting rights advocates say the new maps could further dilute Black and Latino voting power in the county.
When the county redistricted in 2021, county leaders openly said their goal was to draw lines that would be friendly to electing a commissioners court with a Republican majority. Voting rights groups and the U.S. Department of Justice subsequently filed a federal lawsuit on behalf of Galveston County voters, claiming the map was unconstitutional and violated the Voting Rights Act because it eliminated the only majority-minority commissioners court precinct. The challenge before the court now alleges the county intentionally dismantled that precinct because of race. That case is still pending.
Then, this past June, commissioners voted to redraw precinct boundaries throughout the county for commissioners, constables, and justices of the peace — once again citing partisan aims behind the change. Voting rights advocates again sued, this time on behalf of three county residents in Texas state courts, saying the move to redistrict between a primary and a general election violates state and federal laws. That case is now pending before the Texas Supreme Court.
Here’s what we know:
Galveston County Judge Mark Henry in June told the Houston Chronicle that the latest map accomplishes his goal of turning Galveston County Republican. Henry did not respond to a request for comment from Votebeat.
But the unusually timed change could serve another purpose for the county too, coming as it continues to argue against legal challenges to the 2021 map. A day after Galveston County commissioners approved the newest map, the county told the federal judge overseeing the federal case over the 2021 map that the changes rendered the lawsuit over that map moot, according to court documents.
“This Court no longer has jurisdiction to consider declaratory or injunctive relief relating to implementation of the 2021 Map,” Galveston County lawyers said in their court filing.
Earlier this month, U.S. District Court Judge Jeffrey Brown of the Southern District of Texas rejected that argument. In an order that effectively kept the 2021 challenge alive, he described the timing of the new maps as “highly suspicious.” Brown noted that the county could have redrawn lines to accomplish their partisan aims at any time since the 2021 map was issued, but chose to do so between the 2026 primary and general elections even though the change was unlikely to shift partisan outcomes until the 2028 election.
“If the defendants really cared about improving Republican partisan performance, they would have changed the 2021 map before the primary election to encourage a Republican to run for Justice of the Peace in that now-Republican-leaning precinct in 2026,” he wrote.
That question is now before the Texas Supreme Court. The plaintiffs say that it isn’t legal, but Galveston County officials argue that it is.
Plaintiffs argue that the county cannot hold the March primary under one set of precinct boundaries and then conduct the November midterm election under another.
The plaintiffs say the county should be required to hold a new primary because otherwise, some voters who can vote for an office in November would never have had the chance to vote for that same office in the primary election. In addition, they argue some candidates would not have had the chance to run for office because they weren’t in the correct precinct at the time of the primary. Plaintiffs say moving forward with the new map violates state and federal laws requiring all voters to be treated equally and fairly.
“This is a matter of federal equal protection. You have to run your elections in a manner that allows equal access to them,” said Mark Gaber, Campaign Legal Center’s senior director of redistricting litigation. “Galveston County is just dispensing with that part of the process and just deciding who the candidates are.”
Galveston County officials did not respond to a request for comment.
But in an Aug. 10 filing with the Texas Supreme Court, the county argued that state law does give them the authority to redraw precinct lines between a primary and a general election. They also argue that redrawing the lines doesn’t mean that the county must conduct a new primary in order for voters to cast ballots in November. County attorneys in the filings said that state law does not “freeze precinct boundaries in place once a primary occurs.”
The latest case filed in state court has followed a convoluted legal route, but is now pending a decision in the Texas Supreme Court. The court could request additional information, or rule based on the existing record.
The shifting boundaries have confused voters who aren’t sure who their candidates are or which district they’ll belong to come November, said Sarah Chen, senior supervising attorney with the Texas Civil Rights Project. And depending on how the court rules, they could shift again.
“I think people are still even trying to understand what the impact is because it happened so quickly and so just like out of the blue,” Chen said.
Under the 2021 redistricting, county commissioners redrew Precinct 3, historically a predominantly Black and Latino district that was the county’s only majority-minority district, significantly but did not change the justice of the peace and constable boundary lines within it. The 2026 map does, and likely eliminates the only remaining majority-minority justice of the peace and constable districts that remained.
Brown, the federal judge overseeing the 2021 case, in his order described that as “the primary partisan change under the new map,” but said it likely wouldn’t kick in until the 2028 election.
“People in our community are enraged. It doesn’t make any sense why they keep doing this to Precinct 3,” Lucille McGaskey, a resident of the precinct who isn’t one of the plaintiffs in either lawsuit, told Votebeat in an interview. “For years we’ve built a coalition of Black and Latino voters to have a seat at the table, and now it feels like we can’t even have that. We only have this precinct, Precinct 3.”
Galveston County Clerk Dwight Sullivan, who oversees the county’s elections, did not respond to a request for comment. But other Texas election officials have told Votebeat that redistricting is a time-consuming task that requires a lot of attention to detail to make sure that voters’ addresses are aligned with the correct boundaries. Redistricting now, in the midst of ongoing legal challenges and on a tight timeline, could create more opportunities for errors — a concern Texas election officials are already familiar with, as the state’s mid-cycle congressional redistricting and ensuing legal challenges left them scrambling.
The first deadline election officials are up against ahead of the November election is coming up on Sept. 19, when ballots must be mailed to military and overseas voters who have already requested them. By then, election officials must know which precincts voters will be assigned to.
Gaber and Chen said they had never heard of something like this happening anywhere else, and if allowed to go ahead, it could set a new precedent.
“I think it’s such a dangerous precedent for something far worse than just gerrymandering. It’s like changing the rules in the middle of the election to discard the votes of the voters and to prevent candidates from running,” Gaber said.
Yes, it’s a possibility, if the courts don’t step in.
Chen pointed to the recent U.S. Supreme Court ruling that weakened Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act. Prior to the decision, plaintiffs could prove a claim under Section 2 by showing evidence of a disparate impact on minority voters, regardless of whether the mapmakers intended it. Now, they must be able to show a “strong inference that intentional discrimination occurred,” the high court’s conservative majority declared, a much higher bar.
Earlier this year when the ruling came out, experts warned that it could undo decades of progress that expanded the voting power of Black and Latino voters in Texas and elsewhere.
“We all knew there was going to be this wave of local redistricting,” following Louisiana v. Callais, Chen said. “And we’re preparing for that. We just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. It is like, mindfully disruptive and illogical according to the norms of our democracy to try to redistrict in June and after a primary election.”
What We Know About Galveston County’s Redistricting and What It Means for Voters was originally published by Votebeat Texas and is republished with permission.
Natalia Contreras covers election administration and voting access for Votebeat in partnership with the Texas Tribune. Natalia is based in Corpus Christi. Contact her at ncontreras@votebeat.org.
