I work in marketing. Which means I spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking about why people click things, remember things, buy things and, occasionally, believe things.
And after surviving another election season in Texas, I have some thoughts.
Not about who won. Not about who lost. And definitely not about who you voted for.
I'm talking about the advertising.
Because HOLY marketing budget, Batman.
According to AdImpact, the 2026 Texas U.S. Senate race alone generated approximately $573 million in political advertising spending and reservations.
Five hundred. Seventy-three. Million. Dollars.
To put that into perspective, that's a whole lot of money to convince people that one person is wonderful and another person is the worst thing to ever happen to Texas.
And as someone who has spent her career in news, communications, branding and advertising, I find the whole thing fascinating.
And a little gross.
We're All Being Marketed To. Constantly.
Think about the last thing you purchased.
Did you actually need it? Or did you see it enough times on Instagram that eventually you decided you did?
I'll go first.
During pregnancy and postpartum, I fell victim to the Halara pants advertisements. You know the ones. The stretchy pants that somehow look like actual jeans?
They were EVERYWHERE.
And eventually, after seeing approximately 4,000 advertisements (slight exaggeration, but it certainly felt that way), I bought them.
And here's the kicker.
THEY ACTUALLY WORK.
They're stretchy. They're comfortable. They look like jeans. And when your body is changing during pregnancy and postpartum, that's basically the holy grail of pants.
So yes, the advertising worked on me.
But here's what makes that example interesting from a marketing perspective: the advertisement got my attention, but the product delivered on its promise.
That's the difference between getting someone to buy something once and building a brand people actually trust.
And now I'm over here giving Halara free advertising on my own blog.
Well played, Halara. Well played.
The Psychology Behind the Purchase
That's the thing about good marketing.
It understands human behavior.
It knows that familiarity builds recognition. That emotions influence decisions. That repetition makes messages easier to remember.
And sometimes the most effective advertisement isn't the one that tells you something new.
It's the one that makes you feel something.
Political campaigns understand this better than almost anyone.
They're not just selling policies. They're building brands.
The colors. The slogans. The music. The carefully selected photographs of candidates shaking hands, hugging children or standing in front of an American flag.
None of that is accidental.
Neither is the ominous music playing when their opponent appears on screen.
That's creative direction, folks.
And the really interesting part? The same psychological principles that convinced me to buy stretchy pants are being used to influence how millions of people vote.
Except the stakes are slightly higher than whether my pants have an elastic waistband.
The Price of Getting Your Attention
Here's where things get interesting.
According to AdImpact, the Texas Senate race became the most expensive non-presidential race on record in 2026.
$573 million. For one race.
And before anyone gets defensive, this isn't a Republican or Democratic problem.
It's a marketing arms race.
The goal is to reach the right people, with the right message, enough times to influence an outcome.
Sound familiar?
That's essentially what marketers do every single day.
We study audiences. We analyze engagement. We test messaging. We track conversions.
Except in politics, the ultimate conversion is a vote.
And unlike convincing someone to buy a new pair of stretchy jeans, the consequences of that conversion can last for years.
Here's another number that caught my attention.
According to AdImpact, approximately 61% of broadcast airings in the Texas Senate general election were negative or contrast advertisements.
More than half.
Think about that.
Hundreds of millions of dollars spent, and a significant portion of the messaging focused on telling voters why they shouldn't support someone.
As a marketer, I understand competitive positioning.
But as a human being, I have to wonder when we decided tearing down the competition was more effective than explaining what makes us worth choosing.
When Advertising Crosses the Line
And then there's the whole transgender mailer situation in Texas.
If you missed this one, buckle up.
During the 2026 election season, Texans began receiving pamphlets and text messages that appeared to promote resources for transgender students.
Some of the materials referenced the Transgender Education Network of Texas, an actual advocacy organization.
Except the organization said it had absolutely nothing to do with distributing them.
The pamphlets were attributed to a newly formed entity called the Texas Transgender Student Union, and the circumstances surrounding their distribution raised enough questions that a West Texas district attorney opened a potential forgery investigation.
Seriously. You cannot make this stuff up.
The origin of the materials and the intentions of those responsible had not been conclusively established in the reporting. But the controversy raised concerns that the messaging was designed to provoke outrage and influence voters.
And from a marketing perspective, that's where things get particularly disturbing.
Think about the potential strategy.
Identify an audience. Find an emotionally charged issue. Create a message likely to provoke a reaction. Distribute it directly to people's homes.
And then let social media do the rest.
The outrage becomes the advertisement.
People share it. Comment on it. Argue about it. News outlets cover it.
Suddenly, something that started in a mailbox has reached people who never received the original piece.
That's earned media. Except the attention is being generated by messaging whose authenticity is in question.
And that's what bothers me.
I started my career in news. I've edited thousands of stories, worked through breaking news situations and seen firsthand how quickly information can spread.
And how difficult it can be to correct once people have already made up their minds.
The correction rarely gets the same attention as the original outrage.
By the time people realize something wasn't what it appeared to be, the damage may already be done.
I don't care which political party you support. We should all be able to agree that intentionally misleading people isn't clever marketing.
It's irresponsible.
Because there's a very big difference between influencing someone's decision and manufacturing a false impression to get the reaction you want.
Good marketing builds trust. Bad marketing exploits it.
And unfortunately, both can be incredibly effective.
But Here's What Money Can't Buy.
One of the most interesting things about this election wasn't how much money was spent.
It was what happened despite all that spending.
According to a Houston Chronicle analysis, groups supporting Ken Paxton spent roughly $66 in advertising for every vote he received, compared with approximately $27 per vote for groups supporting James Talarico.
And Talarico won.
That's a pretty expensive reminder that attention and persuasion are not the same thing.
You can buy impressions. You can buy television spots. You can flood social media feeds and mailboxes.
But you cannot guarantee trust.
And you certainly cannot guarantee loyalty.
As marketers, we sometimes get so caught up in reach, frequency, clicks and impressions that we forget the human being on the other side of the screen.
A million impressions look fantastic in a report.
Trust me. I love a good analytics dashboard.
But what did those impressions actually accomplish?
Did someone learn something? Did their perception change? Did they take action?
Or did they just get really good at recognizing your logo?
Because there's a big difference between brand awareness and brand affinity.
And there's an even bigger difference between someone knowing who you are and someone believing in what you stand for.
The Part That Bothers Me
I love advertising.
I love the strategy behind it. The psychology. The creativity. The data.
I could talk about marketing analytics for hours, although most people would probably prefer I didn't.
But I also believe that with the ability to influence people comes a responsibility to be intentional about what we're influencing them to believe.
And that's where political advertising makes me uncomfortable.
Because there's a difference between communicating a message and manipulating an emotion.
Fear works. Anger works. Outrage works.
That doesn't necessarily make them good messages.
And when hundreds of millions of dollars are being poured into campaigns designed to influence public opinion, I think it's fair to ask whether we're helping people become more informed or simply making them more reactive.
Those are two very different things.
I work in nonprofit marketing now, where our goal is often to get people to care about something they may not have previously understood.
We tell stories. We share data. We create campaigns that hopefully inspire people to take action.
And yes, we use emotion.
Because emotion is powerful.
But I've always believed the most meaningful marketing happens when the emotion is supported by something real.
A real story. A real impact. A real promise.
Not just a really good advertising budget.
The Work Between the Message and the Meaning
The longer I work in marketing, the more I realize that the most powerful part of advertising isn't necessarily the advertisement itself.
It's what happens afterward.
The conversation someone has with a friend.
The opinion they form.
The organization they decide to support.
The candidate they choose to vote for.
The trust they either build or lose.
That's the part we don't always see in our dashboards.
And it's arguably the most important part.
So yes, advertising is powerful. Incredibly powerful.
But the best marketing doesn't just make people pay attention.
It gives them something worth paying attention to.
And whether you're selling stretchy pants, promoting a nonprofit or running for public office, I think that's something worth remembering.
Because being the loudest voice in the room doesn't automatically make you the most credible.
Sometimes it just means you had the biggest budget.
And if you're going to spend millions convincing people to believe in something, you better be able to deliver on the promise.
My Halara pants did.
Just saying.
