H-E-B and the America We Could Be

How a Texas Grocery Chain Does True Populism Right

This week, I set foot in an H-E-B store for the first time, here in my new adopted hometown of San Antonio, Texas. (I’ve been living here all of one week, y’all! Moved here from New Mexico.)

I had heard about the chain for years from my Texan friends. You gotta go to H-E-B! Until I actually visited one, however, I found the near-religious devotion Texans have to their homegrown grocery chain a little weird. Like, who gets that excited about grocery shopping?

Now, having wandered its wide, welcoming aisles, I get it: H-E-B isn't just a grocery store. It’s an expression of the inclusive Texas ethos little known outside of the state. And in that sense, it's a vision for successful welcoming branding that is desperately needed in United States politics, news media and culture.

I promise, this isn’t bonkers.

Let me explain.

The Vision: An America That Works for Everyone

In an era when grocery stores are niche branded to be as divided as the rest of the country, H-E-B takes a different approach—and has for a long time.

Whole Foods caters to the aspirational elite, where your groceries come with a side of moral superiority—if you can afford it. Walmart embraces the lowest common denominator, cutting costs, variety and quality to the bone in the name of affordability at the expense of exploited workers in China. Between those extremes, most grocery chains pick a marketing lane—upscale, discount, organic, ultra-processed—each one signaling who belongs and who doesn't. You know, what we’re all told is the American way.

H-E-B rejects that game entirely.

It doesn't sell exclusivity. It doesn't race to the bottom. Instead, it does something radical: it tries to serve everyone in Texas, with equal dignity, and a Texas-first emphasis. If it has a niche at all, it’s “Texas,” and not “My Texas” or “Your Texas,” but our Texas.

For all of us.

H-E-B offers Texas-grown produce and affordable pantry staples, top-tier meat and budget-friendly meals, organic kombucha and Big Red soda, all under the same roof. It says you don't have to choose between quality and price, between tradition and innovation, between what's good for business and what's good for the people who shop there.

It is a store designed for Texas—not just the stereotyped national idea of Texas, but the real Texas. You know, a state twice the size of Germany, and 26% bigger than France. A state you could fit Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, the Czech Republic, Switzerland, and Austria into simultaneously, where every kind of person on the planet lives side by side.

H-E-B is a store that bears this in mind. It’s a place where the cowboy and the schoolteacher and the immigrant family and the oil worker and the grad student all stand in the same checkout line, and all of them feel extremely… Texan. Together.

When Target, Walmart and many other retailers dropped their DEI efforts to appease the rise of the racist far-right, H-E-B, the most successful business in the state of Texas, said, “Nah, we’re good keeping it.” Sales soared even more.

The company’s approach to community is expansive, accommodating, generous. It was built with all of us in mind.

And maybe, just maybe, I think, it's a model for something bigger.

A Brief History of H-E-B: From One Small Store to a Texas Institution

Unsurprisingly, this unique business vision was the invention of a woman.

In 1905, Florence Thornton Butt, a trailblazing woman with a mind for business and a heart for service, opened a small grocery store in Kerrville, Texas, with just $60 and sheer determination. Born in Mississippi in 1864, Florence had been the only woman in her class at Clinton College, where she graduated with highest honors, a rarity for women of her time. She spent her early years as a teacher and a leader in her church, assisting her two brothers, both Baptist ministers, in revival meetings. But when her husband, a pharmacist, fell ill with tuberculosis, she realized the family’s survival was in her hands.

From a modest rented storefront, Florence did it all—stocking shelves, managing accounts, and personally delivering groceries to customers, sometimes on credit, because she understood that a business wasn’t just about profit, it was about people. She ran the store while raising her three sons in the little apartment above it, blending business with family life in a way that would set the foundation for generations to come. She knew every customer’s name, because they weren’t just customers—they were neighbors.

Her son, Howard Edward Butt, took over in 1919, determined to expand. He tried and failed a few times, but persistence paid off. By the 1920s, he had a growing chain. By the time his son Charles Butt took over in 1971, H-E-B was on its way to becoming a Texas institution.

Now, H-E-B has over 435 stores, an annual revenue of nearly $39 billion, and a reputation that borders on mythic. People don't just shop here. They believe in it. It’s not a gimmick; it’s a relic from a time when shopkeepers knew the people they served, went to church with them, sent their kids to school with them.

Big Enough for Texas

The first thing I noticed about H-E-B was its size. The store I went to was absolutely massive, at least twice the size of a typical Smith’s or Albertsons back in New Mexico, though not quite as large as a Walmart Supercenter. I quickly realized it wasn’t big the way most big box stores are big.

It's big because Texas is big.

Not in miles, but in people. Texas is one of the most diverse places in America. Every kind of person on the planet lives here.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, Texas has a population of over 30 million people, with 39.3% identifying as Hispanic or Latino, 11.8% as Black or African American, 5.5% as Asian, and 1% as American Indian or Alaska Native. As of the 2020 U.S. Census, approximately 39.8% of Texans identified as non-Hispanic White. Additionally, 17% of Texans are foreign-born. In other words, the real Texas doesn’t look the way the screenwriters behind White Lotus think it does.

H-E-B reflects that true diversity.

It doesn't force you into a box. It doesn't make you choose between organic and affordable, between local pride and global flavors, between tradition and innovation.

It doesn't ask you to prove you belong.

That's what Big Enough for Texas really means.

And, yes, I realize the current political leadership of the state is all about excluding anyone who doesn’t look like J.D. Vance. But the GOP had to re-district and gerrymander their way to power because their ideas are quite unpopular, especially in the state’s large cities. H-E-B’s success isn’t predicated on making enemies of your neighbors to make you fear-shop. Its success comes from serving and respecting everyone.

The Mission and Leadership of H-E-B: A Store That Gives Back

H-E-B is not just a business. It's a community partner. The company donates 5% of its pre-tax profits to charitable causes, supporting education, health initiatives, disaster relief, and hunger relief. When we stopped in San Angelo for a couple of days on the way to San Antonio, the lovely riverwalk there bore plaques announcing the revitalization and beautification had been financed in part through grants from H-E-B.

It's still family-owned. Charles Butt, grandson of the founder, is the current CEO. His mission? To make H-E-B not just the best grocery store in Texas, but the best company in Texas.

So far, it's working.

Empowering Employees: A Stake in the Company

In 2015, H-E-B made a groundbreaking move by granting 55,000 employees an ownership stake in the company. This initiative wasn't just a token gesture; it was a commitment to valuing those who are the backbone of the business. Or as I like to call it, the Reverse Bezos.

Unlike some retailers where employees often feel like expendable cogs in a vast machine, H-E-B's workers are called "partners." They have a vested interest in the company's success, and it shows. Walk into any H-E-B, and you'll notice it: employees who are engaged, helpful, and genuinely happy to be there. It's a stark contrast to the often disheartened atmosphere in other large retail chains.

While H-E-B does not actively ban unionizing for its workers, it is acutely aware of how unpopular the term “union” has become on the far right. It is, in effect, doing the same thing through its Partnership program for workers. This is exactly the kind of rebranding good, worker-centered ideas will need in this country moving forward in the wake of the demonization of all the old terms. H-E-B knows this, because Texas has long been dealing with a microcosm of everything happening to the rest of nation now.

This approach hasn't gone unnoticed. Forbes ranked H-E-B fifth overall in its list of top large employers in the U.S., highlighting the company's commitment to its workforce.

What H-E-B Taught Me About Our Future

We live in divided times. Everyone knows it. Everyone feels it. It sucks. We’re all addicted to the rage by now, and by design. Our cortisol levels never come down anymore. We’re a nation is constant fight or flight.

But step into an H-E-B, and something else becomes clear. People, even wildly different people, still live peacefully side by side. They still want the same basic things. Love, stability, home, dignity. Meaning. Food.

We all need to eat. We all want to take care of our families. We all want to belong somewhere.

That's the lesson: the best systems—the ones that last—are not built on exclusion, but on sensitive, intelligent expansion that brings everyone along.

H-E-B shows us what United States politics, news media and entertainment could be but aren't.

It doesn't check your voter registration at the door. It doesn't split people into marketing demographics. It meets people where they are, and says, “Hey, I’ve got something you might like over here.” Doesn’t mean you’ll like everything in the store; just means you’ll find what you need there, just like everyone else.

What if our country, society and culture did the same?

Beyond the Manufactured Divide

For years, we've been told America is split down the middle. That we are either rural or urban. Conservative or liberal. Traditional or progressive. Legal or illegal.

That's all a deliberate lie to make us mistrust, blame and hate each other.

People contain multitudes. Always have. Always will.

• You can love your guns and your gay friends.

• You can pray with Mr. Toothy McOsteen and still support universal healthcare.

• You can be a traditional SAHM who, yes, values reproductive freedom and women’s rights.

• You can be a fifth-generation Texan or a first-generation immigrant and still belong here.

This is why H-E-B isn’t just a grocery store. It’s big enough for everyone.

As such, it’s a thing that brings me hope.

And so now I’m going to tell you something, like the true Texan I’m becoming: You gotta go to H-E-B.