Texans have not gotten any relief from some of the strictest vote-by-mail limits in the country, but now they will have the ability to cast ballots in person for almost three weeks ahead of the election.
Gov. Greg Abbott on Monday cited the complications of the coronavirus pandemic, which has surged in his state this month, in adding six days to the state's period for early voting.
The decision by the GOP governor was not a big surprise, because he'd lengthened early voting for this month's primary runoff and signaled he would do so for the fall. Nonetheless, it stands out because Republicans in charge in Austin have fought so many efforts by voting rights groups to broaden enfranchisement — and anything that could boost turnout is likely to benefit Democrats.
Starting Oct. 13 and ending the Friday before Election Day, there will now be 19 days to go to at least one place in all 254 counties to vote ahead of time, potentially permitting people not permitted to vote by mail — because they're younger than 65 and have no obvious illness or travel reason — to avoid long lines on Nov. 3.
The governor's proclamation also changes the state's status quo and allows absentee voters to avoid the vagaries of the Postal Service drop off their mail-in ballot to the early voting clerk's office prior to Election Day.
Texas has among the most restrictive mail-in voting rules of any state and last month the Supreme Court decided not to intervene in a Democratic Party lawsuit to expand voting by mail to all voters in the primary runoff. The party is pressing its efforts in lower federal courts in hopes of reversing the current state of play ahead of the general election.
Thirty-eight states and the District of Columbia allow for in-person early voting but the number of days varies widely. Minnesotans are allowed to go to the polls 46 ahead of time, while a handful of states permit that for less than a week. At 19 days, the new Texas timetable is right at the national average, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures.
"By extending the early voting period and expanding the period in which mail-in ballots can be hand-delivered, Texans will have greater flexibility to cast their ballots, while at the same time protecting themselves and others from the coronavirus," Abbot said in a statement.
Abbott's decision "is exactly like his Covid-19 response: the bare minimum and not fully thought through," countered state Democratic Chairman Gilberto Hinojosa.
The state has the second-most electoral votes, 38, and five polls in the past month suggest former Vice President Joe Biden is essentially tied with President Trump, who won Texas last time by 9 points. No Democrat has carried the state since Jimmy Carter in 1976, but the rise of Latinos and white-collar suburbanites is pushing Texas from deep red toward an inevitable purple if not blue.
In addition to the presidential race, M.J. Hegar has a longshot chance at unseating GOP Sen. John Cornyn, a handful of suburban congressional seats held by the GOP are highly competitive and the Democrats even have a viable opportunity to win control of the state House
In another voting-related development in Texas, a new lawsuit was filed Friday challenging the state's vote-by-mail system, arguing it discriminates against people with disabilities.
The federal lawsuit points to Texas counties that currently offer electronic ballots for people in the military and overseas, arguing that the state already has the ability to offer more accessible ballots to persons with disabilities.
Demonstrators rally outside the U.S. Supreme Court as justices hear oral arguments on whether President Donald Trump can deny citizenship to children born to parents who are in the United States illegally or temporarily, on Capitol Hill, in Washington, Wednesday, April 1, 2026. (AP Photo/Mariam Zuhaib)
Luz Angela Nuñez with her daughter Aisha Quershi Nuñez at their home in College Point, Queens. Photo: Mia Anzalone for Documented.
Kimberly Alvarez, 25, with her daughter Evangeline and her husband John Alvarez in Medellin, Colombia. Photo courtesy of Kimberly Alvarez.Alvarez arrived in New York City in February 2024 with her husband John Alvarez as asylum seekers from Venezuela. In April 2025, Alvarez found out she was pregnant with her first child, a baby girl. Her first reaction, she said, was fear.“How am I going to keep her alive?” she said. “That’s what I was thinking. ‘How am I going to be able to take care of her?’”At the beginning of Alvarez’s pregnancy, she said she was aware of the immigration enforcement occurring around the country, but vowed not to let it deter her from showing up to her doctor’s appointments.“When you went out, you were always on alert because you didn’t know if [ICE] might be around. I never saw anything suspicious,” Alvarez said. “But of course, you feel scared.”In October, when Alvarez was six months pregnant, her husband was detained by ICE agents at 26 Federal Plaza. When the immediate shock wore off, she obsessively checked the Online Detainee Locator System to find out where her husband went. A day later, she discovered that he was being kept at Delaney Hall detention center in New Jersey. Alvarez quickly set up an account to pay for phone calls, and every two days, she would pay about $10 for a one-hour call, updating her husband about the baby, her appointments and how she was doing.“Crying was the only way for me to release the tension,” said Alvarez, who worried that her lack of sleep and bad diet were impacting her baby. “Crying was the only way for me to release the tension.”—Kimberly AlvarezThat tension built up day by day, week by week following her husband’s arrest. Alvarez had stopped her work as a cleaner in the neighborhood’s synagogues two weeks before her husband’s detention because of her pregnancy. The plan, she said, was to rely solely on his income as a maintenance worker for “the food, the rent, everything.” Left with few choices, Kimberley had to rely on her mother’s income as a cleaner. The older woman had moved to New York from North Carolina to assist with Alvarez’s pregnancy. “I feel like I’m supposed to help my mom, not the other way around,” Alvarez said. “I felt powerless because I couldn’t do anything.”On Dec. 9, Alvarez gave birth to a daughter, Evangeline. While her baby was healthy, Alvarez’s anxieties did not go away. While she returned to cleaning synagogues a few months after Evangeline’s birth to help make ends meet, Alvarez and her daughter rarely left home. Alvarez said she felt paralyzed, getting frequent alerts from a neighborhood WhatsApp group when ICE was spotted nearby. One day, she said, ICE arrested her friend’s husband in Sunset Park, in an area where she would sometimes take Evangeline for walks.“I’m so afraid that I’ll go out and run into one of them and that they’ll take her away from me,” Alvarez said. “That’s my biggest fear, that someone will take her away from me and I won’t know where my daughter is.”In March, her husband decided to voluntarily remove himself from the United States and move back to Colombia, where he is originally from. It was a family decision, but it was not a happy one — hiring immigration lawyers was too expensive, Alvarez said, adding that staying in the U.S. felt too uncertain. 
