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We Were Illegal: Uncovering a Texas Family's Mythmaking and Migration
An award-winning author's deep exploration of pivotal moments in Texas history through multiple generations of her own family, and a ruthless reexamination of our national and personal myths
Over seven generations, Jessica Goudeau’s family members were church elders, preachers, Sunday school teachers and potluck organizers. Her great-grandfather helped establish a Christian university in Abilene, Texas, which she attended along with her grandparents, parents, siblings, and cousins. Her family's legacy--a word she heard often growing up--was rooted in faithfulness, righteousness, and the hard work that built the great state of Texas. It wasn’t until she began to dig more deeply into the story of the land she lives on today in suburban Austin, that she discovered her family’s far more complicated role in Texas history, from early illegal settlements on Mexican land, bringing slavery to the state, up through the redlining policies her great-grandfather signed into place that have ramifications even now.
Tracking her ancestors' involvement in pivotal moments from before the Texas Revolution to the Civil War to the rise of the Texas Rangers, up through today, We Were Illegal is at once an intimate and character-driven narrative and an insider's revisionist look at a state that prides itself on its history. It is an act of reckoning and recovery on a personal scale, as well as a reflection of the work we must do as a nation to dismantle the whitewashed narratives that are passed down through families, communities, and textbooks. It is only through facing these hypocrisies and long-buried histories that we will be able to move past this fractured time in our country, take accountability for our legacy, and learn to be better, more honest ancestors.
Over seven generations, Jessica Goudeau’s family members were church elders, preachers, Sunday school teachers and potluck organizers. Her great-grandfather helped establish a Christian university in Abilene, Texas, which she attended along with her grandparents, parents, siblings, and cousins. Her family's legacy--a word she heard often growing up--was rooted in faithfulness, righteousness, and the hard work that built the great state of Texas. It wasn’t until she began to dig more deeply into the story of the land she lives on today in suburban Austin, that she discovered her family’s far more complicated role in Texas history, from early illegal settlements on Mexican land, bringing slavery to the state, up through the redlining policies her great-grandfather signed into place that have ramifications even now.
Tracking her ancestors' involvement in pivotal moments from before the Texas Revolution to the Civil War to the rise of the Texas Rangers, up through today, We Were Illegal is at once an intimate and character-driven narrative and an insider's revisionist look at a state that prides itself on its history. It is an act of reckoning and recovery on a personal scale, as well as a reflection of the work we must do as a nation to dismantle the whitewashed narratives that are passed down through families, communities, and textbooks. It is only through facing these hypocrisies and long-buried histories that we will be able to move past this fractured time in our country, take accountability for our legacy, and learn to be better, more honest ancestors.
416 pages, Hardcover
First published June 18, 2024
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Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
July 5, 2024
Highly recommended. This book is a really powerful and unflinching look at Texas myth-making through the lens of the author's family history. She does this by dividing the book into parts that connect the larger history with particular ancestors, and each is fascinating in its own right, while also forming a larger story as we progress through time.
She comes to the conclusion that her family exemplifies a belief that seems to drive the worst of American (and Texan) white privilege and racism: "The belief that our right to flourish was God-given, and higher than anyone else's rights - including the right to exist - has always been there, in every generation as far back as I could trace my family roots."
Through all the different aspects of the story, the author reminds us how close what she is describing is to what we are going through right now across the whole US, which is obviously true and terrifying. The fact that she is telling these stories gives me a lot of hope. And I recommend the book to you for that reason. It may be specifically about Texas, but there's a lot to learn for all of us in this book.
She comes to the conclusion that her family exemplifies a belief that seems to drive the worst of American (and Texan) white privilege and racism: "The belief that our right to flourish was God-given, and higher than anyone else's rights - including the right to exist - has always been there, in every generation as far back as I could trace my family roots."
Through all the different aspects of the story, the author reminds us how close what she is describing is to what we are going through right now across the whole US, which is obviously true and terrifying. The fact that she is telling these stories gives me a lot of hope. And I recommend the book to you for that reason. It may be specifically about Texas, but there's a lot to learn for all of us in this book.
July 18, 2024
I ordered this book after reading a review that mentioned the author’s connection to a conservative church and affiliated university. I thought it might be the church I was brought up in, and the university from which I graduated. So I began reading this book with special interest, and I was not disappointed. Through telling the tales of her ancestors, Goudeau brings history to life, both the good and the bad parts of our history. She ties the past to the divisions of today—such a relevant book. And here is what is true both in the past and today—“The belief that our right to flourish was God-given, and higher than anyone else’s rights—including the right to exist—has always been there, in every generation as far back as I could trace my family roots.” Jessica Goudeau is not just telling the story of her family, but untold white families who have lived and died believing that terrible lie. A powerful book, and a brave author.
July 28, 2024
An interesting look at how family isn’t always true and how history impacts us all.
Read
July 30, 20244.75 STARS
How this book ended up on my TBR: I wandered into my library to pick up books I'd put on order, and this was just staring at me from the front table. I grabbed another one too but found it less satisfying and DNF, but this was a welcome addition.
The title of the book is... not exactly misleading, but it does not feel like it encompasses all that this book has to offer. Granted, I think this book is hard to pin down, and I can't imagine I would do a better job coming up with a title. Nevertheless, it did pique my interest. I'd just listened to Annette Gordon-Reed's On Juneteenth, which did combine memoir and history of Texas, so I was sort of primed to be interested in this book. Not that I've ever had much interest in Texas, per se, but the state certainly does have a flavor. I think more people have complex but fond connections to Texas, and that can't be said for states like Florida.
So this book is a mixture of history and memoir as well. Goudeau seems to have done her homework well before she started this project. She is concerned with our current messy state more generally, and more specifically about the rhetoric surrounding immigration. She sounds exceptionally qualified, not just because of her PhD in literature, but because she's worked with refugees in Austin, Texas (and, if I recall, in several other locations around the world). It's not like she hasn't heard real-life horror stories before, but we tag along as she explores the real-life history of horror connected to Texas through the experiences of her ancestors. The book is split into parts that are her ancestors, though the chapters are not always so directly about these people. Many of them play very tangential roles in the developing history of the US and Texas more specifically. The criticism that her ancestors aren't really important people (to us) entirely misses the point of the book. And Goudeau does feature some well-known figures in Texas history. In each part, she establishes the historical context for each ancestor, and her personal thoughts become stronger and take up a little more space the further into the book you get. I suppose you can't go through your family history and hear about how they were complicit in racist practices without a mounting sense of "how can I still love my family? Texas? How do I thread this needle?" This is something she addresses most directly in the final part; this part, unlike the previous ones, centers on her mother's side of the family (they being newer to the US and Texas, in comparison to Goudeau's father's side).
I like the nuance that Goudeau shows throughout the book. She doesn't shy away from the horrible things she's learned, and she prepares you for them. She makes some very purposeful choices (such as trying to identify by name every Black person; most of those names are lost to history, for obvious reasons). I also think she tries not to do the obvious thing of condemning her family. She does not, for example, hold them up to today's standards. She does, however, hold them up to the standards of other people during their times, thus demonstrating that there was always another path, another course of action.
A question that comes up so frequently in the book is why. Why did most white people in Texas and surrounding areas treat indigenous people, native nonwhite Texans, Black people, and even women the way that they did? They professed to be pious and Christian, so what gives? Goudeau struggles to answer this question and ultimately finds this:
Our happiness, our pleasure, and our comfort were always the higher value in a hierarchy that benefited those of us in power. The power held was providential, manifested, God-given. If threatened, we were allowed to do whatever it took to protect our right not just to survive, or to live, but to flourish. That right to flourish mattered more than any other rights any other group or individual possessed. It mattered more than their lives. More than their children's lives. More than their community's continued existence.
That belief that our right to flourish was God-given, and higher than anyone else's rights--including the right to exist--has always been there, in every generation as far back as I could trace my family roots.
Earlier on in the book, she talks about the importance of being upfront about our history. She is somewhat stunned to see that her own school history books did not really shy away from ugly truths, and the same seems to be the case for her children, but she can't overlook the way that some politicians and interest groups would prefer that we don't educate ourselves on the past. And that, of course, is a power move. It goes right back up to the quotation: the people in power fear change that could impact their ability to stay in power.
Aside from the title, which is not that big of a deal, I thought some sections could have been a little more concise. I'm referring to some parts that are more memoir and Goudeau processing things. That is not an altogether bad thing; indeed, it makes the book unique. But at some points it just felt longer than necessary. Still very highly recommended.
--
PS. If you all ever go to The StoryGraph, let's be friends there! Here's my profile.
How this book ended up on my TBR: I wandered into my library to pick up books I'd put on order, and this was just staring at me from the front table. I grabbed another one too but found it less satisfying and DNF, but this was a welcome addition.
The title of the book is... not exactly misleading, but it does not feel like it encompasses all that this book has to offer. Granted, I think this book is hard to pin down, and I can't imagine I would do a better job coming up with a title. Nevertheless, it did pique my interest. I'd just listened to Annette Gordon-Reed's On Juneteenth, which did combine memoir and history of Texas, so I was sort of primed to be interested in this book. Not that I've ever had much interest in Texas, per se, but the state certainly does have a flavor. I think more people have complex but fond connections to Texas, and that can't be said for states like Florida.
So this book is a mixture of history and memoir as well. Goudeau seems to have done her homework well before she started this project. She is concerned with our current messy state more generally, and more specifically about the rhetoric surrounding immigration. She sounds exceptionally qualified, not just because of her PhD in literature, but because she's worked with refugees in Austin, Texas (and, if I recall, in several other locations around the world). It's not like she hasn't heard real-life horror stories before, but we tag along as she explores the real-life history of horror connected to Texas through the experiences of her ancestors. The book is split into parts that are her ancestors, though the chapters are not always so directly about these people. Many of them play very tangential roles in the developing history of the US and Texas more specifically. The criticism that her ancestors aren't really important people (to us) entirely misses the point of the book. And Goudeau does feature some well-known figures in Texas history. In each part, she establishes the historical context for each ancestor, and her personal thoughts become stronger and take up a little more space the further into the book you get. I suppose you can't go through your family history and hear about how they were complicit in racist practices without a mounting sense of "how can I still love my family? Texas? How do I thread this needle?" This is something she addresses most directly in the final part; this part, unlike the previous ones, centers on her mother's side of the family (they being newer to the US and Texas, in comparison to Goudeau's father's side).
I like the nuance that Goudeau shows throughout the book. She doesn't shy away from the horrible things she's learned, and she prepares you for them. She makes some very purposeful choices (such as trying to identify by name every Black person; most of those names are lost to history, for obvious reasons). I also think she tries not to do the obvious thing of condemning her family. She does not, for example, hold them up to today's standards. She does, however, hold them up to the standards of other people during their times, thus demonstrating that there was always another path, another course of action.
A question that comes up so frequently in the book is why. Why did most white people in Texas and surrounding areas treat indigenous people, native nonwhite Texans, Black people, and even women the way that they did? They professed to be pious and Christian, so what gives? Goudeau struggles to answer this question and ultimately finds this:
Our happiness, our pleasure, and our comfort were always the higher value in a hierarchy that benefited those of us in power. The power held was providential, manifested, God-given. If threatened, we were allowed to do whatever it took to protect our right not just to survive, or to live, but to flourish. That right to flourish mattered more than any other rights any other group or individual possessed. It mattered more than their lives. More than their children's lives. More than their community's continued existence.
That belief that our right to flourish was God-given, and higher than anyone else's rights--including the right to exist--has always been there, in every generation as far back as I could trace my family roots.
Earlier on in the book, she talks about the importance of being upfront about our history. She is somewhat stunned to see that her own school history books did not really shy away from ugly truths, and the same seems to be the case for her children, but she can't overlook the way that some politicians and interest groups would prefer that we don't educate ourselves on the past. And that, of course, is a power move. It goes right back up to the quotation: the people in power fear change that could impact their ability to stay in power.
Aside from the title, which is not that big of a deal, I thought some sections could have been a little more concise. I'm referring to some parts that are more memoir and Goudeau processing things. That is not an altogether bad thing; indeed, it makes the book unique. But at some points it just felt longer than necessary. Still very highly recommended.
--
PS. If you all ever go to The StoryGraph, let's be friends there! Here's my profile.
August 26, 2024
If you are at all interested in Texas history, read this book.
August 16, 2024
I started this book not sure what to expect but was left wanting to dig further into my own genealogy to see what skeletons are lurking. The Texas history aspects pair really well with the book Forget the Alamo and I would suggest a companion read along.
We never healed and made sense of our past and so we continue to repeat it today. Editing to add for those who seem to think this is only about one person's family---literally begging you to ask questions about your own family if you are white and your family has "been in Texas since forever!"
We never healed and made sense of our past and so we continue to repeat it today. Editing to add for those who seem to think this is only about one person's family---literally begging you to ask questions about your own family if you are white and your family has "been in Texas since forever!"
August 18, 2024
If you love Texas and are interested in history you need to read this book. There are some tough stories in here that will make you re-think what you were taught and see multiple sides of our complex history. Worth it!
June 30, 2024
It felt like this book was all over the place. There was some interesting historical bits, not many. It’s about the authors family (truthfully not that interesting) and they weren’t particularly infamous nor compelling. The few pictures she drew about “the times”, lifestyles, slavery were good. Overall it’s pretty boring and just her on an adventure to track her ancestors. Pretty common theme and a “who cares” if they aren’t your family?!
August 21, 2024
I originally listened to this book but found it so enlightening, and wanting to share it with friends, purchased a hard copy to pass around.
July 17, 2024
This book tells the story of tumultuous times in Texas’ history through Goudeau’s own family tree. Goudeau said she started her research because she had questions about the stories she heard her whole life about her family and her home state and what she uncovered was a much messier truth than she had previously known.
August 17, 2024
The author's background is very much like that of a family member of mine; I wanted to read the book and then send it along to her. The author, like my relation, is an 8th-generation Texan, with ancestors who were in the state before it was a state, with deep feelings of affection for her native land, and loyalty to a Texas story that disputes the myths about its founding and its so-called glorious heroism. She has done a prodigious amount of research to uncover the real facts about her family's part in some of the less-than-admirable aspects of Texas history. This effort took real bravery to confront the realities of violence, misogyny, racism, and downright maliciousness among one's distant and more recent ancestors. I thought her strongest section was about the part her Texas Ranger grandparent played in the cruel events carried out in Beeville by a pathologically evil sheriff in the 1940s & 50s. The mood she creates here reminded me of the attitudes I confronted living in San Antonio in the 1970s: lawmen still getting away with blatant murder of Hispanics and Blacks, and good ol' boys getting a pass on all kinds of corruption and illegal activities, all the while falsely glorifying the Battle of the Alamo. Goudeau's writing is at times a bit repetitive, but for the most part quite moving and heartfelt. Well worth reading, as a corrective to all those masculinist myths, and a reminder of how violent the past was, and especially how overwhelming were those times for the women who suffered under the harshness of frontier conditions and concepts of "justice" and appropriate behavior.
July 14, 2024
It’s not you, it’s me. I will preface by saying I probably wasn’t in the right headspace to fully appreciate this book. The author examines her family history in the state of Texas, and draws parallels between how the history has shaped the present in that state, and what role her family played in it all. She looks at the treatment of indigenous people, slavery, state rights, civil rights and several other issues. I had a very hard time getting into the reading, but I recognize the content is valuable and well written. Her main premise is that most social issues stem from one group’s belief that their rights are inherently superior to others’. That has historically been true and continues to dominate the narrative today.
I wanted to give it 3 stars but realize it probably merits four.
I wanted to give it 3 stars but realize it probably merits four.
August 21, 2024
I didn't know a lot about Texas history. Goudeau writes for truth, not for widely held mythology.
The Mexico border moved south, "Texians" developed a Republic and renamed themselves Texans, and finally became a state. Early days include genocide of Karankawas, the influx of slaveholders with enslaved people, the rise of the KKK, and how in some places ordinary citizens rose up to reverse the lawlessness even among law enforcement officers. Some of the attitudes remain entrenched to this day. Better to know the truth, though, than to pretend it never existed.
Goudeau places her own ancestors in each of the key areas and writes about their influence, for good or ill.
The Mexico border moved south, "Texians" developed a Republic and renamed themselves Texans, and finally became a state. Early days include genocide of Karankawas, the influx of slaveholders with enslaved people, the rise of the KKK, and how in some places ordinary citizens rose up to reverse the lawlessness even among law enforcement officers. Some of the attitudes remain entrenched to this day. Better to know the truth, though, than to pretend it never existed.
Goudeau places her own ancestors in each of the key areas and writes about their influence, for good or ill.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 2, 2024
Given how incredibly well-researched this book is, I feel guilty saying this: it is very, very tedious. Perhaps the genealogical navel-gazing is more interesting at the author's family gatherings, but it is not engaging to a lay audience. The overall themes are valuable, but buried in a deluge of detail.
August 6, 2024
Not a page turner but really fascinating. I struggled to follow on audio but felt that it was important enough that I got the physical book from the library. I’ll admit that I often had to reread paragraphs. This is no beach read, but it’s a personal and lovingly researched narrative that challenges the whitewashed tales told in textbooks. So important.
August 10, 2024
In her brave, ambitious, deeply researched book, Jessica Goudeau probes her family’s history in Texas to reveal hard truths not only about her ancestors but also about her home state and the state of the country at large. Deploying the skills of a scholar and the heart of a storyteller, she depicts characters and events as fascinating — if often troubling — as they are illuminating. We Were Illegal is a courageous, compelling and important work.
July 18, 2024
Way too much about their family feuding than about the main issue.
August 20, 2024
Incredibly well researched and written.
August 13, 2024
Almost reads like a book of essays, with a throughline of the skeletons in the old family graveyard. The book was always going to feel a little like a family biography with a tone of white guilt (and rightfully so), but it was missing any big universal takeaway other than family is tough but deserves to be explored, warts and all.
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews