A Path of Healing
Travis County Judge-elect Denise Hernández has defied expectations all her life. BY CY WHITE PHOTOS BY ANNIE RAY STYLED BY PARKE BALLANTINE WITH INSPIRATION FROM REVIVAL VINTAGE, DIANA BOCH DESIGNS, PINK AND SILVER FASHION AND HEX PANTHER HAIR AND MAKEUP BY VALERIE LOPEZ SHOT ON LOCATION AT THE CATHEDRAL
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n unassuming woman emerges from the sublevel of The Cathedral. The air is instantly sucked out of the room. She’s an absolute stunner: Oversized waist-high black zoot suit pants held up by suspenders, white tucked-in button-up, matching zoot suit jacket and a wide-brimmed black hat. She makes her way to one of the building’s signature arched floor-to-ceiling windows, perches atop a golden stool and waits, hand in pocket, sleeves rolled up, forearm tattoo on full display. She exudes authority, confidence. A couple months ago, this same woman sat in the newly decorated home office her wife helped her put together, wearing an old T-shirt, no makeup, hair laying straight and flat at her shoulders, and spoke about how teachers pegged her as a “gangster” in elementary school. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Judge-elect of Travis County Denise Hernández. SUBVERTING LABELS
Denise Hernández is used to people making assumptions about who she is based on labels society has assigned her: Low-income daughter of migrant farmers. Latina woman. Lesbian wife. It’s like a word-association game, and everyone reading has an image in their heads of what each of these words means. Since elementary school, she’s had to fight against the cliches people attached to her. For Hernández, it was more than just a need to define herself; it was an act of survival to keep her from a fate many BIPOC children, unfortunately, aren’t able to avoid. The world has consistently tossed them into a bin to be neglected and later thrown away. “I moved around a lot as a kid,” she begins. “My parents divorced at a very young age. My dad was around and was a supportive parent, as much as he could be, for everything he was experiencing at that time, [but] it was mainly just my mom raising us. It was difficult. She was working two or three jobs a majority of my childhood to provide for me and my little sister.” A common thread among many low-income families is the need to move around from place to place, finding homes that fit within tight budgets. Often that leads to environments lacking in safety and opportunity. “Off the top of my head, I think I attended four or five different elementary schools,” she says. However, life changed in unexpected ways for Hernández when she entered fifth grade. Her family was able to attain assisted housing in a decent school district. With that came the alien feeling of being the only Brown face in a sea of white. “I was in a significantly different socio-economic class. The first time I realized that my teachers viewed me kind of 36 | AUSTIN WOMAN | JULY 2022