The Emergency Room Physician Taking On South Texas Politics

Maria Salinas
Jan 5
3 min read

"This is Ada Cuellar." No preamble. No political polish. Just a doctor's voice, clear and direct.

"Last November, I was upset when we lost the election. Like many people, I wanted to run away."

She didn't. She stayed and committed to battle.

Dr. Ada Cuellar, 44, is an emergency room physician in Weslaco who decided that abandoning the Valley wasn't an option. Instead, she's mounting a congressional challenge against Monica De La Cruz, the incumbent who's been representing Texas's 15th District like a MAGA spokesperson rather than a South Texas advocate.

Cuellar is the daughter of an electrician and a homemaker, Javier Cavazos and Alicia Zamarripa, who raised her in a bilingual household where education was always present.

"We read a lot," she says. "My parents were skilled at teaching us how to read early. They spent whatever little money they had on books. They bought a full encyclopedia set for us."

She recalls her childhood with precision. She grew up playing outside until darkness swallowed the streets. What she remembers is what South Texas has lost.

Cuellar graduated from UT Pan-American, earned her medical degree from UT Medical Branch in Galveston, and completed her emergency medicine residency at Temple University Hospital in Philadelphia. Then she returned. She's been working Rio Grande Valley emergency rooms ever since, bearing witness to legislative negligence masquerading as policy.

Cuellar grew up with four younger brothers who remain central to her political calculus. Her brother Nathan convinced her to run. Two brothers still live in Weslaco, one in Chicago, one in New York. They anchor her campaign and sharpen her conscience.

"We're good about staying connected," she says.

While treating patients, Cuellar pursued a law degree at Syracuse University College of Law. She wanted the weapons to draft legislation that could dismantle the systemic failures she confronts during every shift. Unaffordable healthcare. Crumbling schools. An economy designed to exclude working families.

Cuellar grew up Jehovah's Witness in an apolitical household. When her parents divorced in 1995, her father left the church and embraced new perspectives, including politics. The shift shaped her understanding of civic obligation.

"Women in Texas are dying," she says with urgency. "With my legal education, I know how to write bills. Those are things that I can do."

Cuellar's platform centers on affordable healthcare, functioning schools, decent jobs with livable wages, humane immigration reform, and comprehensive energy strategy. She believes South Texas healthcare should matter more than tax cuts for billionaires. On July 3, 2025, De La Cruz voted to cut taxes while reducing funding for high-speed internet, healthcare, schools, and economic development. Cuellar says Valley survival should outweigh billionaire tax relief.

Cuellar has been one of the few Democratic candidates vocal about immigration reform. She wants an immigration system that recognizes human dignity. Immigrants have contributed to building this nation, served in its military, and worked in its industries. They deserve recognition and humane treatment under immigration law.

Before Cuellar can face De La Cruz, she must win the March 3 Democratic primary against Bobby Pulido, the Tejano music star who announced his candidacy in September. Pulido, an Edinburg native, has positioned himself as a celebrity candidate who can win back Latino voters who've drifted Republican. National Democrats are enthused about his name recognition, and Rep. Vicente Gonzalez called him "one of those candidates that you get once every 50 years." Cuellar remains unfazed by the competition. Her focus stays locked on her own campaign, though she expresses disappointment that the Hidalgo County Democratic Party, which is supposed to remain impartial, has excluded her from the same public support.

Regardless of March's primary outcome, Cuellar's political trajectory has already launched. Her political commitment extends beyond this campaign.

Cuellar has an eleven-year-old daughter at home. Motherhood radicalized her.

"I don't feel like I'm sacrificing anything," she says. "I just feel that the way that I grew up, I appreciate everything. I think back what my life was like when I was a kid and how badly I wanted to have everything that I now have, so even though it's hard, I just appreciate."

She pauses, recalibrating. "I didn't know these things could be possible."

At eighteen, Cuellar chose medicine to rescue her family financially and provide security.

"My greatest accomplishment has been taking care of my family," she says. "It makes me happy to take care of people."

When she became a doctor, she took her grandparents to Hawaii. Splurging on family remains her most satisfying achievement. Both grandparents are alive, which fuels her commitment to legislation protecting the elderly.

Caring for others has defined her trajectory, but Cuellar recognizes the necessity of preserving something for herself. There's space beyond medicine and law. She maintains other ambitions that require her devotion too. As a creative, she plans to write a novel someday. This race might become chapter one.

@Santitos

@salinasmariasantos