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Bulldozers rip into Big Bend National Park, driving anger and heartbreak

TX: PROTESTS OVER BORDER SECURITY PROJECT AT BIG BEND

Big Bend National Park, Texas (CNN) — The towering cliffs, jagged mountain tops, and punishing desert climate of the Big Bend region in Texas have long proved to be the best barrier the United States could have with Mexico. For generations, the idea of needing to build physical structures to stop illegal migration was considered “insane,” as one former superintendent of Big Bend National Park said.

But now the expansive reach of President Donald Trump’s southern border plan has stretched into this remote region that sees only about 1% of unauthorized crossing apprehensions. Bulldozers are clearing land in the beloved national park, where wildlife roams and the scenery has been untouched for thousands of years.

“We didn’t have to worry about any type of barrier. We had a God-made barrier,” said Sheriff Thaddeus Cleveland of Terrell County, a vast and sparsely populated area northeast of the park. He spent 26 years in the US Border Patrol, hearing little if any talk of needing extra infrastructure in the area where he grew up, he said. “But that’s definitely changed.”

US Customs and Border Protection says it’s not planning to build the same kind of 30-foot-high barrier that has appeared across parts of Arizona, California, New Mexico and Texas inside the national park. But critics say the plan that is in the works is no less destructive.

Earlier this month, bulldozers were videoed uprooting trees and shoveling dirt as wild animals trotted by. They were doing preliminary work ahead of the budgeted $1.72 billion main construction project designated for the area inside Big Bend National Park, the agency said.

It’s part of the bigger plan to finish the border wall — or some form of it — before Trump leaves office, with steel walls and vehicle barriers and hundreds of miles of new roads cutting through wildly remote areas.

Those with concerns or outright opposition to the work in this remote desert wilderness run the gamut from a few elected Republicans to young activists, sweeping in a pro-border control sheriff and a retired National Park Service superintendent.

Photographer Natalie Newman made a commitment to Big Bend back in February when then-Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem waived certain federal laws related to environmental safety, historic preservation and wildlife protection, among other initiatives, saying there was “an acute and immediate need to construct additional physical barriers and roads” in the Big Bend region.

“It started out as just documenting the beauty of it, trying to get people to see why it’s special and what makes it special and what makes it so beautiful and worth protecting. But that has transformed just over the last week,” she told CNN, standing near Santa Elena Canyon, where tall cliffs rise nearly 1,500 feet high from the Rio Grande and where she first saw bulldozers working in the national park.

“More than anything else, I feel heartbreak over all of this,” she said. Newman enjoys the wilder parts of this park that’s larger than the state of Rhode Island, where you may see fewer people than javelinas — a mammal that looks like a small wild pig, though it’s an entirely different species. Cacti and wildflowers bloom across the state and federal land around Big Bend, which coupled with even larger nature preserves across the border are part of the Chihuahuan desert, the largest such ecosystem in North America.

But these days when her binoculars are trained on something in the distance, she’s more likely to be checking on the progress of road clearing than on any of the hundreds of bird species that frequent the park. She said she will keep sharing that news, doing her part to stand up for the national park.

“I’m hopeful every single day that it’ll be the day that someone somewhere does something that puts a stop to it,” she said.

If there is no stopping, retired park superintendent Bob Krumenaker said what could happen in Big Bend would rival the flooding of Hetch Hetchy Valley a century ago, an event that changed arguments about preserving the environment. It’s why he labels the whole plan “insane.”

“If they continue with this and build most of the things they have talked about, or even a good fraction of those, this will be the biggest desecration of the national park system — not just Big Bend National Park — since they built a dam in a pristine valley in Yosemite National Park more than 100 years ago. This is a story that our children and grandchildren will be telling,” he told CNN.

Compounding the natural destruction is the damage being done to people’s trust, Krumenaker added.

“It’s just a tremendous erosion, if not violation, of the agreement that Texans and the American people made when they established that national park. The federal government that I worked for for 41 years is disrespecting its citizens in a in a huge way.”

Krumenaker, now chairman of the Keep Big Bend Wild advocacy group, spent five years as superintendent of Big Bend National Park and is familiar not only with the multiple studies and approvals needed for any material changes, but also with his federal partners in Border Patrol and the need for security.

“I totally support a secure border in Big Bend, but this is the least active place in the country for illegal border crossings,” he said. “This is purely political, and it will, it risks destroying one of the nation’s greatest places. It’s just horrible.”

He recalled as superintendent having an annual budget of between $8 million and $9 million and a maintenance to-do list of about $100 million they would chip away at when they could. Those numbers are dwarfed by the $1.72 billion earmarked for the Big Bend work, part of the larger $46.5 billion allocated for border wall construction in Trump’s signature legislation, the “Big Beautiful Bill.”

Sheriff Cleveland thought the talk of security construction was “BS” when he first heard of it.

His experience in local and national law enforcement tells him a different story than that framed by CBP that Big Bend is “an area of high illegal entry.”

What he calls the “God-given barriers” of steep mountains and valleys around the river and an undeveloped landscape without roads would prevent any vehicle getting to his patch. Yet new vehicle barriers are being planned for Terrell County, part of the total $7 billion scheme for the Big Bend sector of the border that includes the national park and land either side.

In a statement to CNN, CBP Commissioner Rodney Scott said the agency is carrying out “survey and design work,” rather than the construction of a wall through the park. It involves building “one new access road, improving existing roads, installing detection technology, and placing vehicle barriers in limited, strategic locations,” he said.

“We are working to preserve the landscape and protect the access visitors and local businesses depend on,” he added.

“I believe in border security … but let’s put a barrier where a barrier makes sense,” Cleveland told CNN. “Let’s spend money where we need to spend the money.”

Cleveland thinks using technology would be better support for him and other rural areas. He points to a solar-powered radar tower with a relatively small footprint that can scan the landscape and identify humans by their gait, triggering cameras to lock on and feed information to agents. Another option would be drones tracking people and helping responders plan a safe interception amid the rugged terrain, he said.

“The biggest problem is the people making the decisions out here for the Big Bend sector have never stepped foot out here.”

Cleveland ran for sheriff as a Republican but says he may switch to independent — what he sees as the profligate federal spending on something unnecessary does not mesh with his own fiscal conservatism.

He signed a letter being carried around the area by former land commissioner Jerry Patterson, praising Trump for closing the border and asking the administration to consider cheaper and less destructive options for the Big Bend region.

A similar approach is being taken by others in Texas.

US Sen. John Cornyn wrote to DHS Secretary Markwayne Mullin last week urging him to meet with local stakeholders before any more construction proceeds on state or federal property. Some of Mullin’s involvement so far has been to waive another federal law, effectively ending a lawsuit claiming that law was being violated. Land Commissioner Dawn Buckingham was more forthright, sending a cease-and-desist letter warning of possible legal action to Customs and Border Protection after she said a federal contractor was sent to work in the Big Bend Ranch State Park without permission. The accompanying news release was titled “Don’t Tread on Texas.”

On Friday, The People of La Junta for Preservation, an Indigenous-led preservation nonprofit, an outdoor recreation company and members of the Lipan Apache community asked a federal court to block the border wall construction on grounds the project threatens constitutionally protected religious freedoms.

The suit, filed in San Antonio, states: “Once an archaeological site excavated by heavy machinery, once the physical context of artifacts is destroyed, or once a sacred or culturally significant landscape is permanently altered, the injury is irreparable.”

The threatened areas, the suit contends, include places members of the Lipan Apache community use “for religious observance, ceremony, prayer, gathering, or other traditional religious practices.”

CNN has reached out to the Department of Homeland Security for comment.

The nonprofit said they chose to pursue legal action because their “ancestors entrusted” them with the land. “For us, this is not an abstract policy debate,” the group said in a Facebook post Friday. “Our families have lived, prayed, gathered medicine, buried and reburied our ancestors, carried water, made offerings, and held ceremony along this river for generations beyond written memory. The river is not simply a boundary or a resource. She is living. She is a relative.”

In a separate case filed in the nation’s capital, a federal judge on Friday rejected the Tohono O’odham Nation’s request to block border wall construction along parts of the Native American tribe’s reservation in Arizona. The Nation claimed the wall would trespass on its lands and diminish its boundaries without congressional authorization. US District Judge Richard Leon wrote “the Government’s interests in securing the border, enforcing immigration laws, and ensuring public safety outweigh any surviving irreparable harms at this juncture.” In a statement, Tohono O’odham Nation Chairman Verlon M. Jose disagreed and said the tribe “will consider all possible options for moving forward,” The Associated Press reported.

Gov. Greg Abbott remarked before Trump entered the White House for the first time that he did not want a border wall across the entirety of his state. “There are serpentine regions of the Rio Grande where it would be extremely challenging to build a wall. There are parts like the Big Bend region — we don’t want (to) see a wall in the beautiful Big Bend National Park,” Abbott said in December 2016, as reported by The Associated Press. CNN asked for his current views and was directed to a previous statement from Abbott’s press secretary Andrew Mahaleris: “Rugged, isolated areas like Big Bend are great opportunities to deploy technology to aid in securing the border.”

Critics say most statewide elected Republican officials have been too quiet in their condemnation of the border barrier construction projects because they fear the wrath of Trump’s criticism on his signature issue of border security.

“The one person who is supposed to stand for Texas right now, our governor, is silent,” resident Jess Bartko said. “What they are doing is actively waging a war against our parks, our public lands, our community and our livelihoods.”

On Wednesday, Bartko and about 100 other protesters gathered by the river, whose route gives the area its name and which attracts many of the half-million or so annual visitors to the national park.

Tourism is a big deal here — for running the river and watching the night sky. There are worries that both will be impacted. As far as the upheaval, there could be debris in the river, and construction lights from sites and worker camps could pollute some of the darkest sky in the Lower 48, blurring the star-filled views of the cosmos.

This week some roads and facilities were closed in the national park because of the construction.

Down at the river, beside the entrance to Santa Elena Canyon, one of the “crown jewels” of the park, the demonstrators whooped and hollered, their shouts echoing off the cliff walls as they pledged to keep working to protect Big Bend.

“The land remembers, the water remembers, it will remember us and our fight,” Joan Escamilla told her fellow supporters of the national park. “You can bury my heart in the Rio Grande.”

This story has been updated with additional information.

The-CNN-Wire
™ & © 2026 Cable News Network, Inc., a Warner Bros. Discovery Company. All rights reserved.

God save the drag kings of England

Ramsgate, England (CNN) — For the past hour, Trudi Jackson has been painting on a chiselled jaw, sponging dragon tattoos to her forearms, taping down her breasts and gluing hair to her chest. “My favorite bit is my chin because I get to do the dimple,” she says, makeup brush in hand. But it is the moment she attaches the mustache – a furry creature transported in its own Tupperware container – that a kind of spirit takes over. The voice deepens; the stance widens. Walking is now a rolling swagger, and every woman in the room is looked up and down with a raised eyebrow: “Alright ‘luv?”Jackson has officially left the building. In her place, is the drag king Pat Riarchy.Pat is a little bit like an inappropriate uncle at a family gathering in the 1970s. He’s leery and sexist and delights in making women squirm. Despite the bravado of his flowing mullet and leopard print G-string, Pat is tragically ill-equipped for today’s rules of engagement.In his stage shows, Pat – often brandishing a Union Jack flag – tries to make sense of a world where “it’s hard being a bloke.” He jokes about “the girls taking our jobs” and is baffled by the acronym LGBTQIA+. At his “Karablokey” nights, Pat sings an original song called, “While Yer Down There Luv.” In another performance at a local pool as part of Pride festival, he told the gathered swimmers: “I am not a professional aqua aerobics instructor. But like all blokes, I can turn my hand to anything.”“For me, it’s cathartic,” says Jackson, 52, an actor and performance coach who grew up in a mining town in south Wales. “It’s my playing out of what it’s like to be born female in a world of this masculinity which was hugely toxic when I was growing up.”These days, Jackson and her drag king character live in Ramsgate, a port town on England’s southeast coast where – much like Pat’s flag – strings of Union Jacks flutter along the harbor. Like many towns along this stretch of coastline, it has pockets of deep deprivation, while also attracting artists and people looking for a quieter life away from London.Tucked at the back of one barber shop is Screaming Alley, a cabaret production company supporting independent artists. Descending a hot pink stairwell plastered with posters of George Michael and Madonna, you’ll find the Alley Bar and stage. On any given night there might be an open mic, community workshop, or recently – Jackson’s masterclass for aspiring drag kings.Over six weeks students develop their characters – learning about masculinity, costume, make-up and movement – with the aim of performing to a live audience at the end.What’s striking is that these drag classes are happening in the kind of English seaside town that voted strongly for Brexit – and where, in the decade since, the hard-right Reform UK has become a major political force.Like other hard-right populist parties across the globe, Reform’s brand is very much tied up in traditionalist masculinity. Its leader, Nigel Farage, has cultivated an image of the everyman who makes campaign stops in the pub. A politician who rails against what he sees as the social wokeism that’s stopping “young men being young men.” It’s the type of macho imagery drag kings delight in subverting.“We’re living through a time when conversations around gender, identity, class and power have become increasingly polarized, and Thanet (the district Ramsgate falls under) reflects that as much, if not more, as anywhere else,” says Lara Clifton, co-director of Screaming Alley. “What interests me is creating a space in the middle of those conversations – not to tell people what to think, but to invite them to play, laugh and spend time together.”As for working-class Pat, he would never vote for Reform himself. He views the affluent, private school-educated Farage as “a posh boy,” says Jackson. Pat is a more layered king than you might initially think, and class is an important element to his act. The so-called liberal elite are educated, and that’s a privilege, adds Jackson. “It’s a privilege to be woke. And rather than shaming people for their viewpoint, let’s have the conversation: ‘is it true? Is that real?’”King about townJackson has been performing Pat for five years, but the character grew out of the cancel culture she was seeing years earlier. “If we can’t debate properly, you close people down and they go underground. Which is why then the manosphere exploded,” she says. “My feeling is, let’s shine the light on it and laugh at it – let’s laugh at Pat, not silence him. Because when you silence him, then it just becomes insidious.”Walking the streets of Ramsgate with Pat on a sweltering Monday in July, as many people do double-takes as those who ignore him.On the beach one woman, Vanessa Duarte, calls out to Pat with a wide smile – she recognizes him from a previous show at the Alley Bar. During the performance, “one of my friends felt uncomfortable but another one loved it,” she says. Personally, she’s a fan: “he reminds me of my dad. He has photos in the same outfit.”Shortly after, a young man stumbles towards Pat from the direction of the pub, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. “Wait, is that… that’s a woman in there… is it real?” he asks. There is a tense moment when he gets close to Pat’s face, before deciding the drag king is “10 out of 10.” Jackson is pragmatic about the interaction: “That’s interesting to me because it opens up conversation. He’ll think about that.”Girls will be boysLater at the Alley Bar, Jackson’s masterclass is in full swing; tonight it’s a mixture of nine new and former students. It’s a glimpse of a thriving drag king community in the UK, which, while not as mainstream as their queen equivalents, still numbers in the hundreds.During the day, these women work as teachers, painter-decorators, full-time carers. One is a suicide bereavement liaison officer.Seeing them enter now dressed as kings is like a surreal timelapse of men through history: an 18th century fellow in a towering white wig, a pizza restauranter in aviator sunglasses, and a Lycra-clad influencer among them.Each person’s character is in some way inspired by the men around them – a million little interactions and observations added up to a complete persona. Maxine Rowe, 49, created her drag king – Dr. Eustace Hunt – after encountering a real doctor who dismissed her request for menopausal HRT treatment. The character Dr. Hunt, she explains, is in his 70s, wears country club clothes, and is too busy practicing his golf swing to hear women patients describing hot flashes. But when the patient is a man, “they can come in for a paper cut, and I’ll send them for an MRI scan,” she says, stethoscope round her neck.The more Rowe shared her character with other women, the more she found they had similar stories. “It feels like a release to be able to take something that’s difficult or horrible or stressful, and own it,” adds fellow student Katie Pope, 32, whose own drag king, Manny Sphere, is a young gym junkie, podcaster and grifter always trying to sell an enormous sports bottle of his “Man Juice.”During the class, Jackson is now simply herself; wearing pink shorts, sneakers and a T-shirt with “Ken” written in Barbie-font. She instructs the kings to form a circle and strike a pose: “Smolder!” she shouts. “Macho!” “Do fragile man!” “Confused!”“Now take your man and walk around your space as blokes. Ricky – more ‘aging rocker,’ give us a hip roll,” Jackson directs, imitating a leisurely swagger for 67-year-old Janis Royal, whose character is called Ricky Belissimo. Dressed in leopard-print leggings, silver boots and a thin silk scarf, Royal says her ‘70s glam rock look was inspired by her husband. “The wardrobe was already there,” she laughs. And when she’s not painting on a goatee and perfecting her manly stride? “I make art. Just a quiet life with my cat.”What quickly emerges, is Jackson’s talent for bringing comedic punch to each character. The performer, who trained at the prestigious London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art (LAMDA) and has 20 years of acting experience, might use a prop in an unexpected way, involve the audience, or hold a gaze for just long enough to get people giggling. That’s if Jackson isn’t already in stitches herself.Many of the drag kings talk of the confidence that comes with inhabiting a man’s physique – they stand taller, manspread, openly readjust their crotches. “You’re allowed to take up extra space being a man,” says Rowe.At one point, 46-year-old Penny Harston’s character, Dave, lets loose to Blur’s Britpop classic, “Girls & Boys.” Wearing an English football top, beanie, and a drawn-on five o’clock shadow, Dave thrusts to the chorus: “Girls who are boys, who like boys to be girls… always should be someone you really looooove.” It’s joyous and furious all at once.Harston is also one of the Screaming Marys, a performance collective managed by Screaming Alley, which regularly hosts workshops in everything from burlesque to lip-syncing – and previously did Jackson’s drag king course. Now, the Screaming Marys run their own drag king nights at the Alley Bar, where they perform on stage and invite audiences to come dressed as their “ultimate bloke.”“It was so nice to be able to go to a group of people and be silly, get up and dance, and not be judged,” said fellow Screaming Mary, Helen Gibson, 43, of joining the collective and “finding your people.” Gibson’s drag king character, Barry, is one of the most intriguing to come out of Jackson’s course.He sports a bowl haircut, drab T-shirt, oversized glasses, and tends to stand in the corner quietly watching. “Barry is a 45-year-old virgin who spends a lot of time with his mum,” says Gibson. He was inspired by the adult brother of a family friend, someone who as kids, they always found “quite scary.” But when played by Gibson, there is also a vulnerability. Like Pat, and all the kings here, there are so many layers to each character.“To become a drag king, you need to be in some way curious about masculinity – you could choose to celebrate it, exaggerate it or expose its inherent contradictions,” says Clifton. “Drag in all its forms reminds us that masculinity – like femininity – is something we all learn, perform and negotiate.”As the Alley Bar calls it a night, the performers wipe off their stubble and gather up their wigs. The kings have left the building.The-CNN-Wire™ & © 2026 Cable News Network, Inc., a Warner Bros. Discovery Company. All rights reserved.
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