Our city is weird. We have candy-painted slabs, a house made of beer cans, our own distinct subgenre of rap, underground tunnels, some of the longest bars and car washes in Texas, a lack of zoning laws, an unhealthy level of Beyoncé fandom, and humidity that could make any grown person cry. We even have an unofficial holiday named after our area code! With all this art, culture, and funky vibes, why in the world is Austin considered weirder? For this edition of Ever Wonder Why, Houstonia explores why Houston was never crowned the title of weirdest city in Texas.

How did Austin get “weird”?

Let’s start with the facts. According to a report by Southern Living, the
official “Keep Austin Weird” motto came from an Austin Community College
librarian. In 2000, Red Wassenich called into a local radio station to make a donation. When hosts asked Wassenich why he was donating to the station, he replied, “Because it keeps Austin weird.”

In the following years, Wassenich manufactured “Keep Austin Weird” bumper stickers, which were later adopted by small businesses to encourage people to shop locally. The motto gained momentum in 2003 after Austin chains BookPeople and Waterloo Records used the bumper stickers in protest against national chain Borders’ move to Austin. The slogan has been so popular that three other US cities (Portland, Louisville, Indianapolis) have also adopted the “Keep [insert city name here] Weird.”

We’ve gotta give Austin some credit. Oddities like the O. Henry Museum Pun-Off, a spoken-word battle, and chicken-led bingo games at the Little Longhorn Saloon are evidence of weirdness. Throw in the capital city’s more progressive politics (a blue capital in a largely Republican state is interesting, to say the least), and it’s easy to see why Austin is considered different. But Houston, too, is a major Democratic Party stronghold, and arguably an even bigger one than Austin. We also have a legendary music scene (hello, DJ Screw, Underground Kingz, Slim Thug, Lil’ Keke?) and even our own subgenre of hip-hop (chopped and screwed!). When it comes to events, traditions, and culture, Houston is plenty weird.

So, why not Houston?

According to Preservation Houston representative Jim Parsons, weirdness just wasn’t in the cards for us. “I don’t know if there’s a moment when Houston decided not to call itself weird,” Parsons explains. “It feels more like part of our historical urban DNA.” Instead, Houston was primarily a business town. Industries such as oil, gas, and real estate have been growth drivers in the city, and founders were more concerned with development than earning an eccentric reputation. “The Allen brothers were already talking about making Houston ‘the great interior commercial emporium of Texas’ when they established the city in 1836,” Parsons explains. “Celebrating weirdness just wasn’t part of the formula.”

Are we still (unofficially) weird?

Most definitely. While Houston has never truly capitalized on (or branded) its idiosyncrasies, it has excelled in off-kilter vibes. Lifelong Houstonian Bryan Caswell, executive chef and cofounder at Latuli restaurant, believes Houston’s oddities were born from its diversity. He calls Houston “the most culturally diverse city in the United States, and that kind of diversity creates a more organic, less-curated weirdness.”

Likening Houston to a “UNESCO city,” Caswell points to the city’s melting-pot culture, which includes people and communities from all over the world. Houston has nearly 20 sister-city relationships across five continents, and consulates from more than 90 nations. “Houston, right now, is a big ol’ pot of f—ing gumbo that’s boiling over,” Caswell says.

Communities sharing diverse cultures have fueled innovative art, food, and exchanges. Take the city’s Art Car Parade and Houston’s widespread graffiti scene, major attractions that began with grassroots artists and creatives. Our food scene also thrives on a never-ending fusion thanks to our large immigrant population: Viet-Cajun crawfish, West African mash-ups, Mexican cuisine fused with everything, Michelin-worthy restaurants hiding in strip malls, and mom-and-pop spots that can rival those in New York City. The city’s “sprawl” adds to the quirks, with a combination of skyscrapers, farmland, bayous, and busy streets where cars and, occasionally, horses, share the pavement (but never the sidewalks, because ours suck, but that’s a story for another time).

Among the best places to embrace and witness the weird? Montrose. Affectionately called “the gayborhood,” this former suburb built a reputation as an enclave for the LGBTQ+ community, artists, and outcasts—through its legendary block parties and art collectives. Caswell remembers frequenting the neighborhood as a child. “If you grew up in any small town, big town, anywhere in Texas, and, let’s say, you felt you were gay, or you felt you were just different, or you were musically inclined, or you were too short, too tall, you just didn’t fit in—everybody went to Montrose,” Caswell says.

Houston’s hip-hop is also one of the most unique interpretations in the country. Pioneered by the vanguard DJ Screw, rap lovers have long praised Houston’s unique subgenre of “chopped and screwed,” which is characterized by a slowed, almost slothlike tempo, punctuated by record scratching, skipped beats, and other “chopped up” sounds. The popularity of the slowed and throwed sound was further influenced by Houston’s drug of choice: purple drank. Also known as lean or sizzurp, this potent potable is a recreational, sometimes lethal mixture of cough syrup, soda, and fruit-flavored hard candies. How many other Texas cities can lay claim to their own drug?

Houston could certainly wear a “weird” badge with honor, but it doesn’t need the label, Parsons argues. “Maybe the best thing about Houston is that we don’t have to tell everyone we’re weird. If you get to know the city, you find out for yourself,” he says. “We’re creative and diverse enough that we have all types of weirdness—not just the kind that makes its way to a bumper sticker.”