When the Rules Change Overnight: What Texas’ New HUB Decision Taught Me About Merit, Labels, and Leadership

On December 2, 2025, Texas announced a sweeping overhaul to its Historically Underutilized Business (HUB) program. With one decision, the state collapsed decades of classifications — woman-owned, minority-owned, disadvantaged, small business groups — into a single remaining category: Service-Disabled Veteran–Owned businesses.

In an instant, the directory changed. Certifications vanished. And business owners across Texas, myself included, received the same flat, sterile message: “You no longer qualify.”

What surprised me wasn’t the policy shift itself — it was my response. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t threatened. I wasn’t disappointed. I read it and felt something far more surprising: clarity.

This wasn’t just a procedural update. It exposed something deeper — how we define opportunity, how we assign value, and how easily we let labels become the scaffolding of our worth. And it forced me to do something uncomfortable: look at myself through that same lens.

The notification, in typical government fashion, was blunt: All non-SDV (Service-Disabled Veteran–Owned businesses) certifications will be removed. No transition window. No cushioning. No easing into it.

Woman-Owned? Gone.
Minority-Owned? Gone.
Every other category? Gone.

I paused, expecting an emotional wave that never came. Instead, a thought rose that felt surprisingly solid: Maybe this isn’t the catastrophe people assume it is.

Not because the rollout was thoughtful — it wasn’t.
Not because the decision was perfect — it’s not.
But because it exposed the truth about the systems we rely on and how quietly those systems shape us.

I’ve always believed that capability and results should win contracts — not labels. Not gender. Not race. Not ethnicity. Not even veteran status. In a perfect world, merit wins.

But the reality is more complicated than ideals. Because classification-based programs don’t always reinforce equality. Sometimes they create new lines while attempting to erase old ones. Labels can open doors — but they can also build invisible walls that shape how people see themselves and how they move through the world.

Any label, even one born from good intentions, carries separation inside it. The moment you sort people into categories, you draw boundaries. You tell one group, “You are this,” and everyone else, “You are not.”

People internalize that — often more than they realize.

For some, a label becomes a limitation. A quiet belief forms: “I’m here because of the label… not because I earned it.” That belief chips away at confidence, even silently.

For others, the label becomes a soft shield — something they lean on more than the development of actual skill or excellence. And here’s the uncomfortable truth most people will never say out loud: labels can create entitlement.

Not loud entitlement. Not aggressive entitlement. But the quiet, subtle expectation that success should come easier because a system listed you as “priority.” It’s not malicious. It’s neurological. Humans adapt to whatever reward system exists.

On the opposite end, labels create internalized victimhood.
“I won’t be chosen unless the label helps me.”
“I’m disadvantaged unless the state steps in.”
“I can’t compete on merit alone.”

Victimhood doesn’t always scream. Sometimes it whispers.
Sometimes it looks like shrinking your potential because you believe the world already set your ceiling.

This is the paradox we rarely name:

Labels can uplift and limit.
They can protect and divide.
They can empower and weaken.

They create representation — but also reinforce the belief that representation requires a special category to appear. They open doors — but imply that some people cannot open those doors without assistance. They acknowledge history — but can trap people in the very narrative they’re trying to outgrow.

And when someone begins relying on a label for confidence or credibility, something significant happens: their belief in their own capability erodes.

This is why the HUB decision didn’t rattle me. Because I never wanted my credibility, my reputation, or my place at the table to be tied to a classification that could disappear overnight.

I want my work — my excellence, my integrity, my results — to be the thing that stands.

And still, here is the human truth: I used the certification. Proudly. Strategically. Ethically. It accelerated trust and shortened the distance into rooms we would have entered anyway — and I don’t regret that. Smart business owners use the tools available to them. That’s not hypocrisy. That’s competence. That’s strategy.

So yes, I believe opportunity shouldn’t hinge on classification.
And yes, I used the classification I qualified for.
This isn’t contradiction. This is complexity.

The real tension is not between principle and action.
The tension is between identity and convenience, and whether we are honest about the difference.

This shift forced me to ask the question most entrepreneurs avoid:

What is my business truly built on — labels or leadership? Identity categories or capability?

What This Change Actually Means

Texas didn’t simply change a form.
They gave entrepreneurs a reminder:

Systems change quickly.
External validation is unstable.
A certification is not a business strategy.
And identity cannot be your competitive advantage.

Our HUB listing may disappear, but nothing essential about our work does.

We will still train high-stress professionals.
We will still teach emotional resilience and nervous system regulation.
We will still bring science and humanity into rooms that desperately need both.
We will still serve the leaders who carry the heaviest loads.

The certification never made us qualified — our work did.

If This Shift Shook You — Here’s Your Mirror

Use this moment as an audit.
A recalibration.
A wake-up call.

Ask yourself:

If every certification disappeared tomorrow, would the excellence of my work still stand?

If yes, you’re already building on solid ground.
If not, this is your moment to rebuild from identity to mastery.

Systems will continue to change.
Policies will continue to shift.
The real question is: can you?

If you need help repositioning your strategy, strengthening your value, or navigating procurement without HUB status, reach out. You don’t have to walk through this transition alone.

Great work still wins.
It always has.
It always will.