Guest Commentary written by

Jesse Vasquez

Jesse Vasquez is the executive director of Pollen Initiative, a California-based nonprofit organization dedicated to cultivating media centers inside prisons.

When I entered the adult prison system in the early 2000s, there were a little more than 163,000 people incarcerated in California. I was just another one that had taken on a prison number — a letter with five digits — so the system could track me. Something happens when you start identifying as a number instead of your name. You take on an abstract identity, a flattened one.

I remember the day I had to think deeply about this identity. As editor-in-chief of the prisoner-run San Quentin News, I responded to the mail the paper received from all over the state prison system. I filtered through complaints about our publication, grievances against the state and many good prison stories. There were writers of persuasion and eloquence. 

But the letters that took my breath — and sleep — away were the letters from incarcerated women. One that haunted me ended with, “I know it doesn’t matter because I’m just another number.”

Before I joined the newspaper, I had lived in silence. It’s hard to imagine you aren’t just a data point when every study about prison populations presents you as a statistical outcome of a few societal ills. But for the women, it was even easier for them to think they didn’t matter. Back then, in 2017, women made up barely 4% of the state’s prison population. 

It’s easy to lose 4% out of 163,000 people. They were overshadowed by what the majority of the prison population — men — needed. They got the remnants. It weighed heavily on me that we so easily lumped their issues in with ours and thought that we had done them justice.

There’s no training to help you confront the disparities that you’re exposed to as a prison newspaper editor. Until reading those letters, I hadn’t understood why women said “you’re privileged to be a man and can’t understand what it’s like to be a woman in the world.” I grew up as a Mexican machista. I was prideful. My father always told me, “Los hombres no lloran, mijo.” So I never cried. I didn’t want to, either.

But something happened when I read the women’s stories. Every time I opened an envelope with wrinkled up paper and smudgy faded blue lines, I’d fold it up and put it away to read later in my cell. I felt like I owed them privacy while I read their heartache.

“Dear San Quentin News, you write about all the good stuff you have but we don’t have nothing. I don’t know how to say it but life is hard in here and I can’t do nothing about it.”

“Dear editor, we don’t get visits here. Can you help us get the word out?”

There’s only so much I could do as a newspaper editor. After all, we weren’t a pen pal service or a resource hub.

What do you do when you come across, “San Quentin News, we need you to say something about the shit they doing to us. A lot of girls are depressed and committing suicide.” 

I did what any normal man with multiple life sentences would do to cope: I made a promise that if I ever had the chance to make a difference for them I would. They would have a voice. They would have their own media. 

Always waiting for something

After Gov. Jerry Brown commuted my sentence, I felt the weight of my promise and the energy that comes from infinite possibilities. The fantasy of a media center inside the Central California Women’s Facility in Chowchilla felt within reach.

Read More: California to expand re-entry programs for formerly incarcerated individuals. Here’s how they work

It started with cold calls in 2022, but started taking shape a year later when Lt. Monique Williams, the new CCWF public information officer, responded and we talked about starting a journalism guild. She said they’d love to have a meeting to discuss what I was proposing. The CCWF administration was excited. They figured it would be great for the population to have a platform to share their stories and news they could use.

After a site visit to gauge interest and meet with the Inmate Advisory Council, which included Amber Bray, Kristin Rossum, Simaima Oufai and Nora Igova, an inquisitive group I thought would make great journalists, the next eight months presented new challenges. I spent hours ironing out logistics, convincing people that this was a great idea even if it was hours away from our homebase in the Bay Area, getting advice from our donors and board of directors about expanding our projects, and communicating with CCWF administration about next steps. 

The hardest part about implementing a media center inside of an institution is waiting. We’re always waiting for something: equipment to get approved, lists to get updated, clearance memos to get printed and the thumbs up from upstairs to move forward.

In the early days of spring this year, I got a call from the women’s facility PIO. She was excited to share that we were clear to move ahead, immediately. 

‘We’re going to finally have a voice’

On March 25, what had taken months of planning and meetings came into physical fruition in a matter of three hours. I felt like an interior designer when our team went in to set up the classroom, computers, workstations and decorations. We transformed an empty, gray-colored classroom into the CCWF Media Center.

We participated that same day in a grand opening ceremony with our volunteers, the participants and the administration. Everyone was eager to get inside. 

I walked around eavesdropping and smiling. We had 24 participants and another 20 incarcerated guests attending the reveal, and they were ecstatic. 

Too many times I overheard, “We’re finally gonna have a voice.” I was emotionally overwhelmed.

Bray, Igova, Rossum and some of the other participants had been incarcerated for decades. I watched as they brought their stories and the historical context of their institution into the discussion about the paper’s name. They bantered, discussed, proposed and rejected many good ideas until they settled on the need to leave a paper trail, so that posterity would remember them. And they wanted to encourage their community. 

I couldn’t have been more proud when they said CCWF Paper Trail would amplify voices to empower choices. The tagline was born.

Their desire to chronicle the stories of their community and share vital information is exactly what local journalism is about. The advisory council already believed in civic engagement. Their jobs involved informing their peers about laws, policies and administrative changes that were coming and how they would impact them, so they’ve been able to make a smooth transition into building out their broader platform. When the group nominated their editorial team, they chose the council chairperson, Bray, to be their first editor-in-chief. 

From her long history of documenting advisory council meeting minutes about the community’s affairs, Bray knows the importance of having a publication that would not just chronicle issues but preserve them. 

During the facility’s first graduation, she mentioned that there was a second-class citizen sentiment shared throughout the prison community because historically they had not been afforded the same programs or privileges as the men. But now, she said, “We are making history. We get to show the world who we are and what we are doing inside of CCWF. Our goal is to leave some very big shoes to fill by others that come after us.”

The Paper Trail is defining their identity as they build a legacy by empowering their community and recording their stories. With the start of the media center, California gets to see in real time the ripple effect that happens when people believe in you and give you a chance to remake yourself.

Read More

Justice

It used to be a notoriously violent prison. Now it’s home to a first-of-its kind education program

November 12, 2024November 13, 2024

Justice

‘I would have been a great mom’: California finally pays reparations to woman it sterilized

October 7, 2024October 8, 2024

Guest Commentary written by

Ryan Burnett

Ryan Burnett leads the Sierra Nevada Group at Point Blue Conservation Science and is the chair of the Sierra Meadows Partnership.

When I stepped into a Sierra Nevada meadow over 25 years ago, I was struck by the diversity of life, the hub of biological activity — full of birds, frogs, fish and plants. As a wildlife ecologist, I was in love. That infatuation has endured, growing into one of the great passions in my life.

As a lifelong Californian, I’ve always been enamored with the natural wonders our state contains, and meadows are no exception.

Californians have a lot to be proud of. In addition to the highest GDP of any state, we have a proven track record as the country’s climate and environmental leader. Since voters recently approved Proposition 4, we can be proud that California will deepen its commitment to large-scale action to address the state’s water, wildfire and climate challenges.

The $10 billion bond measure will flow to environmental projects large and small, including $1.2 billion for land conservation and habitat restoration, which will benefit communities and wildlife around the state. But one question looms: What might these investments to increase climate resilience look like on the ground?

Some of the most important — and often overlooked — natural resources the state has are the verdant high elevation wetlands we call mountain meadows. These meadows lie at the headwaters of the rivers that flow out of the Sierra Nevada, Cascade and Klamath mountains, supplying the majority of water we rely on for agriculture and drinking, and supporting diverse ecosystems from the Sierra to the sea, from Yreka to San Diego.

They serve an important role in improving water quality and increasing water storage, acting as giant sponges that soak up snow melt and slowly release it through the dry summer months. And mountain meadows are superstars at carbon sequestration, pulling carbon out of the atmosphere as fast as tropical rainforests. 

Mountain meadows provide important wildlife habitat for a broad suite of species, including many that are threatened with extinction, such as Willow Flycatchers and Yosemite Toads.

For a millennia, mountain meadows have also held a deep cultural significance for the many tribes that have stewarded these ecosystems. 

Unfortunately, over 50% of Sierra meadows have been heavily degraded or lost over the past 150 years, due to road-building, overgrazing, fire suppression, mining, water diversions and more. These meadows no longer provide the wealth of important services they once did.

The Sierra Meadows Partnership has sought to protect and restore these crown jewels of the Sierra Nevada and Cascades mountains. Comprised of NGOs, government agencies, universities, conservation districts and restoration practitioners, we have restored more than 8,000 acres and protected 10,000 since 2016. The goal is to restore and conserve 30,000 acres by 2030.

Prop. 4 has the potential to dramatically scale up the meadow restoration and conservation work taking place, which will pay dividends to the people and wildlife statewide that rely on the many natural benefits of healthy mountain meadows. The billions designated for water projects, forest health and nature-based climate solutions could increase funding possibilities to restore meadows, amplify Indigenous voices and improve the resilience of our watersheds.

Recently, I had the privilege of engaging local elementary students from the small town of Chester to assist us in the restoration of Child’s Meadow, near Lassen Volcanic National Park. Witnessing their sense of purpose and accomplishment as they took an active role in restoring their watershed reminded me once again of why California invests in the restoration of our incredible natural resources. 

Brent Tuttle has taught welding for 24 years to more than 3,000 students. He says California high schools should offer more classes like his, training students in trades rather than steering them all toward college. 

Shop courses can help turn around students who are absent or disengaged from school, he said, a problem that grew during the pandemic. And there’s a growing demand for hands-on career education.

Tuttle, 47, teaches at La Mirada High School in Los Angeles County. Students there get more than 1,000 hours in a welding shop, learning metal arc welding, plasma cutting, fabrication and welding sculpture. They also take courses in the summer, and many go on to college or to jobs or apprenticeships after graduation.

Tuttle even partners with an engineering teacher to give fifth-graders a taste of electrical, plumbing, woodworking and welding. He joked that the district was a little worried about giving tools to children, but the value of exposing them to screwdrivers and hammers at a young age made a world of difference by the time they reached high school.

Recently I talked with him about the students who regularly ditch their classes, but always show up for welding. His responses have been edited for clarity and length.

Q: You’ve said career technical education classes can help kids who are chronically absent or late re-engage with school. What do you mean?

I find that the kids that are in what we call our pathway, the ones that are really into welding, their attendance is over 95%. .. They’ll come to school just to make sure they don’t miss my class …  If I can hook in my claws into them, their graduation rate goes up. 

Some of these kids aren’t traditional academic students. … I have one (student) for four hours. I have a couple for three hours, because of the way I do my course sequencing, and then a lot of them for two hours. … The kids that I see that have a lot of frequent tardies, once they buy into my program and get into my advanced class, I see a lot of those absences and tardies disappear in my class. 

Now, do they still do that in some of their other classes and they flake? Yeah, unfortunately, but they are driven to come into the CTE (career technical education) program.

What skills are they picking up in your classes?

With the support of Harbor Freight Tools for Schools, it’s been awesome because I’ve been able to expand a lot more. With trade teachers, as soon as one good trade teacher retires, it’s hard to fill it and they usually shut the programs down. Within the last five years, they shut down our wood shop. … But me and the engineering teacher kept a lot of the equipment, and we’re teaching our kids. We’re not teaching them full-on woodworking, but we’re teaching them how to use those tools. 

My shop is pretty unique. I don’t know how many shops in California have this. We have a full-on powder coating booth. When you go to McDonald’s or you’re at Disneyland and all the railing looks like it’s a real nice, shiny paint, but it’s really a plastic paint. We’re teaching kids how to do that. … So we’re teaching the kids a lot of the finishing stuff, and just powder coating alone is a skill that these kids can use in the future.

I have a tool room that has four of every tool out there — drills, woodworking tools, metal tools … We’re using 3D printers. I mean, everything you could think of we’re doing.

Why aren’t more schools doing this? What’s holding schools and districts back?

It’s funding … and then the lack of qualified teachers.

The difference between my program and, let’s just say, an engineering or computer or graphic design class — their upfront cost is going to be one time. They’re going to buy computers once every five to 10 years. 

With mine, everything’s a consumable (item), so I’m relying on my school budget. Luckily, I have strong support. We built a big program and now with the partnerships with Harbor Freight Tools for Schools, the school sees it. But my budget is around $40,000 to $50,000 a year. They could spend $40,000 on a computer lab and then not have to do anything with that classroom for five years.

The consumables make automotive, construction, welding, and those types of classes with the ongoing costs a deterrent.

What other issues hold schools back?

A big component is to get qualified teachers. I’m a unicorn. I worked in the industry for a couple years when I was young and  … I was bouncing from job to job, trying to find a welding job. And that’s when my instructor said, “Hey, think about teaching. You know, there’s an opening at your old high school.” I started teaching when I was 21. 

But a lot of people don’t do that. … To get somebody to leave industry and come teach — because that’s what you want; you want people who understand what the work world is — they’re going to go from making $150,000 a year. A starting teacher in California with no teaching experience makes like $60,000. So you’re asking a professional to take a big cut. 

Once you get somebody who’s retired …  they don’t have a teaching background. I’m not going to lie, some of these kids may drive them nuts. You have to do a better job of supporting them on how to be a teacher. 

Why do some kids seem to prioritize welding classes over academic classes?

It’s almost any class that’s hands-on for that type of kid. … If there was an auto shop, I would probably lose some of my kids, just because those kids gravitate toward doing things with their hands. 

It’s not a traditional class. They’re not just sitting there digesting information. They get to listen for a little bit, digest and then go apply. To them, they don’t see doing a math problem as applying what they’re learning. They just see, like, “I’m going to have to ingest all this information. I’m supposed to memorize it and take a test.”

Here, we’re in the classroom once a week, but we’re in the lab four days a week. And I’m going to tell you guys what to do and now we’re going to go out and do it.

You’ve said the students your courses attract are mostly not the academically elite. What do you mean?

They may not be your best. There’s several times, countless times, where teachers will be like, “Oh my God, you got so-and-so in your class. And I’m like, yeah, he’s my best student.” And he might be a pain in the butt in every academic class, but for me, he’s found a home. 

And usually I could, in a couple years, flip that kid to where now the teachers are even saying, “Hey, that kid’s doing a really good job.” And he may not be an ‘A’ student, but he might be a ‘B’ now and he’s doing his homework.

I get these young men — and we do have females right now; I think 15% are female students — I get them when they’re 14 or 15 years old, and by the time they’re 18, they might have spent more hours with me than sometimes their own parents.

What should schools do differently to have a similar impact on students?

If you’re in California, you’re familiar with A through G (Requirements)…  A through G was designed to get kids ready for a four-year university 

Why not give them a skilled trade? A lot of times, they’ll make more money right away than somebody with a four-year degree, and not have to pay back all the student loan debt. Most of these kids have no idea what they want to do if you make them go to college. Whereas they may pick up a trade and they’re making six figures in four or five years.

When can welders make $100,000?

If they apply themselves and they grow with it, I can say within five years a lot of them could. 

Should schools offer more career technical education courses?

You should have more hands-on courses. I think schools are starting to buy in. … Some people still think auto and welding and construction is just a dumping ground for the bad kids. Being an auto mechanic is not (being) a gearhead just turning wrenches. There’s a lot of computers involved. … It’s an actual viable opportunity for these kids to earn an honest living. 

But they may say, “Hey, I want to find a welding program but can you find that qualified instructor?” There’s not a pipeline of teachers teaching CTE. 

What can be done to build that pipeline?

Why would somebody leave a $150,000 job to make $60,000? A lot of districts don’t recognize CTE as a credentialed teacher, so they pay them by the hour, and they pay them very little compared to what a normal teacher gets. 

I’m in a district where they actually respect us and pay us pretty decently, and we have the same opportunities to make as much as the regular teachers. …  And I don’t work during the summer and I have two weeks off (over the winter break). You’ve got to sell that to those people.

Financial support for this story was provided by the Smidt Foundation and The James Irvine Foundation.

Among the hundreds of bills introduced in every session of the California Legislature, a few deal with what state officials term “tax expenditures,” which requires some explanation.

The term refers to provisions in personal and corporate income taxes and sales taxes that exempt specific financial transactions from levies that otherwise would be applied. They have exactly the same fiscal effect as direct appropriations in the budget, which is why they are dubbed “expenditures.”

While many loopholes reflect a broad public and political consensus that they serve positive purposes — such as making prescriptions drugs and most grocery store foods tax-free — others provide subsidies to special interests with political clout.

My personal favorite among the latter was enacted about 35 years ago at the behest of Silicon Valley interests. It exempted custom computer programs from sales taxes, generally benefiting corporations willing to pay millions of dollars for such software, while continuing to tax off-the-shelf programs such as Quicken or TurboTax purchased by ordinary consumers.

It’s certainly not California’s largest tax loophole, costing state and local governments $119 million a year in lost revenue, but it exemplifies the narrow focus of many exemptions.

The software loophole estimate comes from an annual report issued by the state Department of Finance that gets scant public, media and political attention even though, as this year’s version confirms, the accumulated effect on state and local government revenues is $107 billion, counting only exemptions of $5 million or more.

“The result: California’s $204 billion of estimated General Fund revenues (excluding transfers) in 2024-25 would be roughly 45% greater if there were no personal income, sales and use, or corporate income tax expenditures in state law,” Jason Sisney, a fiscal consultant for the Legislature, says in an analysis of the data.

Over time, the number and size of tax expenditures has tended to increase because they often enjoy political support from their beneficiaries, while there’s little or no pressure on governors or legislators to reduce or eliminate those with little or no rational basis, such as the custom software exemption.

The legislation creating it was carried by a Silicon Valley legislator, now deceased, known for his laments about the state’s parsimonious attitudes toward vital education, health and social services.

What happened a couple of decades ago in the state Board of Equalization, which was then the collector of sales taxes, is another illustration. State law taxes hot prepared foods, such as those served in restaurants, or offered by delis, but exempts cold prepared foods — for reasons lost in antiquity.

The owner of a theater chain asked the board to exempt popcorn from the hot food tax, arguing that while it may be warm when purchased, it’s cold by the time theater patrons return to their seats. The board granted the exemption.

The new report lists the income tax exemptions for employer-provided medical care and pension contributions, totaling $29 billion in reduced revenues, as California’s two largest tax expenditures. Other personal income tax biggies are exemption of some Social Security benefits ($5.5 billion) and capital gains on inherited properties ($5 billion).

The largest corporate income tax provision, valued at $3.1 billion, limits taxation on the revenues of multinational corporations, an issue that has kicked around the Capitol for at least 50 years with several iterations.

Among the newer items on the list are income and sales tax credits for motion picture and video production ($213 million) and a sales tax exemption for menstrual products ($28 million) and children’s diapers ($81 million).

Each year, the governor and the Legislature spend months negotiating thousands of items in the state budget. With $107 billion at stake, perhaps they should spend some of that time reviewing off-budget tax expenditures.

Gov. Gavin Newsom’s decree that by 2035 all new cars sold in California must be powered by batteries or other zero-emission systems has received a double dose of legal and political support.

Last Friday the U.S. Supreme Court blocked an effort by red states to declare California’s zero-emission mandate unconstitutional. And on Wednesday the outgoing Biden administration’s Environmental Protection Agency granted the state’s request for a new waiver, which it needs to deviate from federal emission standards.

Renewal of the waiver makes it more difficult for President-elect Donald Trump to make good on his campaign promise to block California’s 2035 decree, a major chunk of the state’s effort to become carbon-neutral by 2045.

“Clean cars are here to stay,” Newsom said in a statement. “The Biden-Harris administration reaffirmed what we’ve known for decades — California can rise to the challenge of protecting our people by cleaning our air and cutting pollution.

“With more makes and models available than ever before, millions of Californians have already made the switch to clean cars. Automakers and manufacturers have made it clear they intend to stick with California and consumers as we move toward clean cars that save people money.

“Naysayers like President-elect Trump would prefer to side with the oil industry over consumers and American automakers, but California will continue fostering new innovations in the market.”

Newsom’s celebratory statement and political dig notwithstanding, whether California actually enforces the ban on selling gasoline- and diesel-powered cars in 2035 remains legally, politically and tactically unsettled.

While the Supreme Court didn’t allow Ohio and other states to pursue their case against California, it left open a challenge by fuel manufacturers, who contend that the state’s Clean Air Act waiver doesn’t empower it to ban sales of cars with internal combustion engines. The court will take up that issue next year.

Despite the EPA action, it’s likely that after taking office, Trump will attempt to cancel it, either directly or through legislation from a Congress with Republican majorities in both houses.
Assuming that California’s mandate survives those potential roadblocks, there’s still the matter of escalating the sales of battery- and hydrogen- powered cars, plus plug-in hybrids, from their 39.4% of auto purchases so far this year to 100%.

There are about 13 million cars on the road in California; about 2 million meet the state’s definition of zero-emission now. Californians purchase between 1.7 million and 2 million new vehicles each year.

After surges in recent years, sales of ZEVs, as they are dubbed, have recently flattened out. Trump has pledged to eliminate the $7,500 federal tax credit for zero-emission vehicle purchases, but Newsom has promised to keep it going with state funds.

That issue aside, there are other impediments to the sharp escalation of ZEV sales needed to meet the state’s deadline, such as the lack of convenient and functional recharging stations, purchase prices that are beyond the ability of low-income families, and concerns about how far zero-emission vehicles can travel between charges, particularly in rural areas.

Moreover, even if only zero-emission vehicles can be sold after 2035, there will still be millions of gas- and diesel-fueled cars on the road. And the state faces a balancing act of maintaining the availability of fuel for those cars as it indirectly compels refineries to reduce their output, perhaps to the point of closure.

Finally, California must generate enough electricity to recharge the many millions of zero-emission vehicles it envisions, while at the same time shifting to zero-emission power production from wind and solar arrays, backed up by massive battery banks.

With all of those factors in flux, there’s precious little wiggle room if the state is to achieve its 2035 goal.

When asked by pollsters, Californians repeatedly rate homelessness as one of their top concerns — and for good reason.

This year’s federal count of Californians who lack housing neared 186,000, by far the most of any state and about 5,000 people higher than the previous year.

Gavin Newsom began his governorship six years ago with many promises of decisive action on major issues, among them housing and homelessness. He pledged to appoint a homelessness czar to attack the crisis, and he and the Legislature allocated billions of dollars.

A 2023 report by the Legislative Analyst’s Office pegged direct spending by four state agencies since Newsom became governor at $20 billion, but didn’t include spending by other agencies or local governments. The state’s auditor, Grant Parks, cited $24 billion by nine state agencies in a report last spring that castigated Newsom’s Interagency Council on Homelessness for failing to fully track how billions of dollars were spent or determining which programs were effective.

As the crisis continued, reporters questioned Newsom about having a czar who could cut through red tape and attack homelessness effectively. Newsom snapped back, “You want to know who’s the homeless czar? I’m the homeless czar in the state of California.”

While seemingly taking personal responsibility for combating homelessness — and despite the state auditor’s criticism of his administration — Newsom has more recently blamed local governments for failing to spend state homelessness grants effectively, often threatening to cut off their money if they didn’t make a serious dent in the crisis.

A few weeks after Parks issued his report, Newsom and legislators reached a deal to maintain homelessness grants to local governments but he reiterated demands that they do a better job.

“What’s happening on the streets has to be a top priority,” Newsom said, declaring that local officials will be held accountable for what happens. “People have to see and feel the progress and the change and if they’re not … I am not interested in continuing the status quo.

“I’m not interested in funding failure any longer,” he added. “So I’m going to speak for myself, just one guy that’s got three more appropriation cycles in front of him. I want to see results. Everybody wants to see results.”

Read More: Federal health care dollars are helping to house homeless Californians. Trump could stop that

Local officials clearly resent Newsom’s blame-shifting, arguing that receiving only annual grants makes it difficult for them to establish long-term programs to lift homeless people from their plight and prevent more Californians from joining their ranks.

They have a point, but it’s also true that local efforts to combat homelessness have run afoul of the same bureaucratic inertia as state programs — very visibly in Los Angeles, the epicenter of California’s homelessness crisis.

The Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority, created by the city of Los Angeles and Los Angeles County to deal with homelessness, has an $875 million budget. Last month, the county’s auditor-controller issued an audit that excoriated the agency for routinely late payments to contractors, failing to track how money is spent, and shifting money from one program to another despite differing purposes.

County Supervisor Lindsey Horvath, who requested the audit, said she will seek to shift the agency’s duties to a new county-only department.

“The audit findings make clear the structure we have for service delivery is not working. We need greater accountability and bold action,” Horvath said. “The public is frustrated and there is no time to waste in delivering meaningful results.”

Newsom’s governorship will end in two years, after which he will likely mount a campaign for president. It’s certain that California’s homelessness crisis will still be highly visible and a weapon for Newsom’s opponents.

Austin O’Campo went from prison to graduating from UC Berkeley, while living in his car. Now  the 29-year-old San Jose resident is studying for law school while completing a fellowship designed to help young people like him find careers. 

The fellowship is through a nonprofit called CURYJ. Pronounced “courage,” the acronym stands for Communities United for Restorative Youth Justice. Among other things, it administers internships and fellowships for young people who have been involved in the legal system — either criminally, as a foster kid, via immigration or because of school discipline issues, said George Galvis, its executive director.

O’Campo was homeless during his childhood and his grandmother took him in when he was 17. By then he’d spent time in juvenile facilities, abused drugs and alcohol — he is sober now — and later served time in prison for receiving stolen property, parole violations and dissuading a witness, he said.

He was released in 2017 and went to college but still struggled, until a friend told him about CURYJ, which operates Homies 4 Justice internships for teens and Dream Beyond Bars fellowships for adults under 30. 

As a yearlong Dream Beyond Bars fellow, O’Campo is paid $25 an hour and works 20 hours a week, learning community organizing and advocacy. Fellows get experience in event planning, graphic design, public speaking, communication and soon cybersecurity skills, Galvis said, as well as support from the program’s life coaches and healing circles.

“You can’t just give them a job; that’s not enough,” he said. “They have to have support for their healing journey. There has to be some stabilization.” 

I spoke with O’Campo recently about the fellowship, his community service and how he looks at his future after such a challenging past. His responses have been edited for clarity and length.

Q: Why are you involved with CURYJ? And are you really going to law school?

I’m going into a joint MBA-JD program, hopefully. So right now I’m studying for my LSATs, trying to get my score up, and I’m accumulating work experience. 

CURYJ has instilled a good amount of confidence in me, I’d have to say, because when I was in prison I never really thought college was an opportunity. Then I got into San Jose City College … and was kind of just there floating around, and I ended up getting into Berkeley. And I didn’t really think I belonged there. But lately, since CURYJ has been talking to me and … I got really good grades in college, I’ve managed to maintain those really good grades while working two jobs or more the entire time, not living under the best circumstances. And, honestly, now I think I deserve to be in the top programs in the country, and so now I’m trying to come full bore. I want to come with work experience, with the scores, with the grades, with the knowledge, and I want to have my best foot forward.

How did you come to be where you are now, from prison to trying for law school? 

I mean, broken families and trauma … for sure. I started going to jail before the jail was even allowed to hold me — for little things like running away, stealing, fighting. I got kicked out of damn near every school I went to until I went to prison … Even while I was going to school, I didn’t have no purpose. I didn’t have no sense of community. I didn’t have no real reason why I was doing everything I was doing.

So I feel like everything that I have right now, everything that I’m doing, a lot of that stuff changed because of CURYJ … I was the Students for Prop 6 campaign manager. I was in charge of going to college campuses across California and just educating, getting kids aware, seeing if they wanted to … start up their own forms of activism. That was a very, very big thing for me. 

Right now, one of my biggest life struggles is I help take care of my grandma and my sister. My sister is disabled. She’s got … a rare form of paraplegia. And my grandma’s a breast cancer survivor … (and had a) triple bypass not too long ago. 

What are you doing in the fellowship now?

I’m actually a member of the (CURYJ) community now, like a member of the family. I show up to people’s court days that are going through it, or, if they used to be going through it, I help them sign up for school and just show them …  encouraging them to just come and find community … because that emotional intelligence has a lot to do with how we act within our communities. And if we don’t have that, it severely affects us in our daily life. 

What do you mean by emotional intelligence? 

I think emotional intelligence has a lot to do with vulnerability. And people like me, typically, we don’t allow ourselves to be vulnerable, especially around people we don’t know. This could cause us to lose relationships or not even to start relationships … which essentially cuts us out of society. And when you’re cut out of society, you’re much, much more likely to do things that are outside of society’s scope.

Coming to CURYJ and having those people that truly care about you and, even if you don’t say something, they’re going to do something for you to make it known that you’re welcome here … They’ve been paying attention and they’re trying to help. That’s what I’m saying about emotional intelligence. It opens you up and allows you to start that dialog, to grow yourself.

Why did you start community organizing?

Proposition 6 was one thing that affected me when I was in prison. I was a kitchen worker and so, instead of being able to go to college or be able to go to programs, I was told I had to wipe those kitchen tables. 

If you get an inmate assignment, and if any of those work times contradict class times or program times … you can’t go to anything that contradicts work. The number one priority of prisons is work … which is why I probably came back to jail multiple times after I got out of prison, because I was never allowed to work on myself. 

At CURYJ we have coalitions of other nonprofits that are trying to meet with lawmakers … to teach people … For six months I did those coalition calls and learned about Prop 6 and what it means to pass laws. We’d go and rally at the state …  I’ve been trying to get involved in any capacity that I can, because I’ve never been exposed to work like this. It’s something that my experience directly relates to and actually helps me work through. 

I’m not just trying to stay out (of prison) now. I’m working on myself while trying to better my life. 

What’s the most surprising thing you’ve learned in your fellowship?

The most refreshing part about CURYJ was everybody that’s in our fellowship is labeled … we’re all called criminals; we’re all called bad people. But when we come together, that’s not who we are. We are the community. We’re handing out food. We’re handing out information. We’re handing out clothes. We’re handing out resources to help these people be successful. And that doesn’t just solidify their success; it solidifies ours. 

Financial support for this story was provided by the Smidt Foundation and The James Irvine Foundation.

There’s no law requiring California property owners to carry insurance, but the vast majority buy it to protect themselves from fire and other perils, or are required to do so by their mortgage lenders.

There’s also no law requiring insurance companies to offer coverage in California, but most would prefer to do so in the nation’s most immense concentration of property needing protection.

For decades, insuring California’s homes, farms and commercial properties was a hum-drum business of willing sellers and willing buyers. However, the former have become less willing as the state experiences an ever-increasing number of wildfires — even during winter months — that devastate homes and businesses in fire-prone areas.

Last Friday, as the latest of those fires was driving people from their homes in the quaint seaside village of Malibu, Ricardo Lara, the state’s elected insurance commissioner, formally unveiled a large chunk of his plan to stem the exodus of insurers from California.

It would allow insurers to use computer modeling of future exposure to set premiums, while requiring them to offer coverage in risky communities roughly in line with their shares of the market. Until now, insurers set rates based on past losses.

“Giving people more choices to protect themselves is how we will solve California’s insurance crisis,” Lara said in a statement as he released details of the modeling plan. “For the first time in history we are requiring insurance companies to expand where people need help the most. With our changing climate we can no longer look to the past. We are being innovative and forward-looking to protect Californians’ access to insurance.”

He also noted that in setting rates, insurers will be required to consider hardening efforts by threatened communities and property owners to reduce potential losses.

Lara claims support from environmental groups, farmers and other stakeholders, in addition to insurers. But he’s drawing sharp criticism from Consumer Watchdog, an organization that has sponsored landmark changes in insurance regulation. The group has also received millions of dollars in fees from intervening in insurance rates cases, and has been a harsh critic of Lara throughout his time in office.

“Full transparency is what keeps insurance rates honest but Commissioner Lara’s rule does away with that protection,” Consumer Watchdog executive director Carmen Balber said in a statement. “The rule will let insurance companies raise rates based on secret algorithms but not expand coverage as promised.”

The new rules take effect in January. Farmers Insurance, California’s second-largest property insurer, has already pledged to expand its coverage in response to Lara’s actions. The American Property Casualty Association, a trade group, also reacted positively.

“California will continue to have a robust regulatory and rate approval process that guarantees that rates reflect the actual cost of covering claims,” the association said.

While the rules unveiled last week are central to Lara’s plans, there are other elements that remain: shoring up the FAIR Plan, California’s last ditch insurer for property owners who cannot obtain coverage elsewhere, speeding up insurance rate case approvals, and allowing insurers to include costs of reinsurance — coverage of their potential losses — in setting rates.

Adoption of Lara’s plans may result in premium increases, but maintaining a viable insurance market is a vital factor in the state’s economy. The inability to buy insurance would devastate the residential and commercial real estate market and require property owners to pay for fire losses out of their own pockets.

Lara’s plans may not be perfect, but nobody — including Consumer Watchdog — has offered a better alternative. He should be credited with at least attempting to deal with one of California’s existential crises.

Guest Commentary written by

John Kim

John Kim is the president and CEO of Catalyst California. He is a founding partner of We Are California.

Sabrina Smith

Sabrina Smith is the CEO of California Calls. She is a founding partner of We Are California.

Since the election, there has been a lot of finger-wagging about what happened in California.

Headlines proclaimed that California shifted to the right, that our values of inclusion and care are to blame. Centrist Democrats and conservative pundits alike claim the Democratic Party has gone too far to the left.

This oversimplified narrative overlooks an important red flag: the unchecked power of corporate billionaires who spent heavily peddling lies and misinformation. Even worse, it succeeds in doing precisely what the political right and Trump want — to divide working people, blame immigrants and other vulnerable Californians, while billionaires line their pocketbooks. 

The $259 million that Elon Musk spent to get Trump elected and buy his role in the administration has been well covered, as has the role of venture capitalist Peter Theil in bankrolling JD Vance’s political career. 

What received less attention was the mountain of money that corporate giants in real estate, retail and oil spent on this election to mislead voters and protect their bottom lines.  

In Oakland, for example, a single billionaire funded the mayoral recall campaign, while a consortium of wealthy investors spent heavily to target progressive district attorneys in Los Angeles and Alameda County. Real estate corporations and business groups spent hundreds of millions of dollars to defeat ballot measures that would have raised wages for hard-working people, protected renters and made it easier to build more affordable housing — all while claiming that they were good guys looking out for renters and workers. 

Instead of pointing to corporate billionaires who cost the state wins on pocketbook issues like affordable housing and minimum wage, some centrist Democrats are joining Trump and conservative media in blaming immigrants, transgender kids and poor people.

The election outcome has serious consequences for our communities. Trump overstates his mandate — the near-final vote counts show that he leads Harris by only 1.5%, one of the smallest popular vote wins in recent U.S. history. But there can never be a mandate for the level of cruelty Trump is threatening to unleash, and we know he will rule like an authoritarian.

Democratic insiders and establishment leaders need to stop the blame game and roll up their sleeves to get to work. Trump is coming for everyone. Leaders need to focus on protecting and defending communities that we know will be under attack.

The Democratic Party needs to acknowledge that voters’ economic anxieties and fears are driven by genuine consequences of policies advanced by corporate billionaires. California leaders need to accelerate progress on an economic agenda for working people that delivers concrete improvements to our lives — affordable housing, health care, higher wages and a stronger safety net for our families. 

When voters feel abandoned by our government, they are less likely to identify with the government as an extension and expression of their democratic power. They are less likely to vote and more susceptible to authoritarian appeals. The best defense against Trumpism is showing that government can improve the lives of all Californians — from small business owners to farm workers, from educators to tech workers, and from the service industry workforce to gig workers.

We Are California strives to be a home for people who are sick of politics as usual and who believe in our state’s values of community and inclusion. Bringing together Californians from every walk of life to protect and defend California against the worst of the coming federal policy, and to advance state policies that serve the majority of Californians, this is what people want — not an agenda of corporate billionaires.

In a time when so many are being pushed to think only of themselves, there is a different path: one where we stand together, fight together and win together. This isn’t the moment to back down — it’s the moment to double-down. The future of California’s multiracial democracy depends on it. 

The Legislature’s budget analyst, Gabe Petek, is marking the 20th anniversary of University of California’s Merced campus with an overview of how it has fared.

In polite language, Petek fundamentally says the campus has fallen well short of its enrollment targets, requires much more state aid than other UC branches to operate, has not had the big economic impact that its advocates promised, and really wasn’t needed to relieve student applications.

“Since 2005, the UC system has added approximately 44,000 resident undergraduate slots,” Petek writes. “The 7,500 undergraduate slots created at UC Merced accounts for 17 percent of that growth. While contributing to the increase in UC enrollment capacity, UC Merced has repeatedly failed to meet its campus enrollment targets.

“Moreover, enrolling additional students at UC Merced comes with a higher state cost than enrolling additional students at the more established UC campuses. The $85 million in UC Merced funding above the rebenching formula equates to roughly an additional 10,000 students that could have been supported at the other UC general campuses, many of which had available capacity.”

The rebenching formula is how the UC system equalizes funding across its campuses.

Reading Petek’s report was, to quote the inimitable Yogi Berra, “déjà vu all over again,” because I had written a number of skeptical columns about the UC Merced project that then-Gov. Gray Davis and other advocates were touting in the early 2000s.

“Merced was chosen for the campus primarily because of the offer of free land, because of pressure from politicians who wanted to position themselves as saviors of the valley, a politically important region, and because developers wanted to make a killing on adjacent land — not as a result of any rational needs or efficiency studies,” I wrote in one column for the Sacramento Bee.

“If a UC campus is to be built in the San Joaquin Valley, locating it in or near a major population center — moribund downtown Fresno, with dozens of potentially usable buildings would be perfect — would make access much easier,” I wrote in another.

“More students could live at home, thereby reducing their living expenses, and that would make attendance more practical. But that simple, if vital, cost-of-living factor is being ignored by UC administrators, UC’s somewhat elitist Board of Regents and politicians in their relentless drive to create a new campus out in the middle of nowhere.”

At the time, UC system executives were almost universally opposed to placing a new campus in Merced because it would siphon away construction and operational funds that, they thought, would be better spent elsewhere. However, they never voiced that opposition publicly because the Board of Regents, composed of governors’ appointees, and Davis were insisting that it be done.

Much of the political pressure was coming from those who owned land around the proposed campus and were hoping to make a financial killing. They included the head of a major state agency and a UC regent.

A charitable land trust donated the proposed campus site, but it ran afoul of federal environmental officials because it contained numerous vernal pools that sustained fairy shrimp, an endangered species found only in the San Joaquin Valley.

When it became evident that the original campus site was a non-starter, it was shifted to a nearby golf course, also owned by the land trust and purchased with a foundation grant. The golf course was a failing business so it was a double win for the trust, which intended to develop housing and other student services.

In short, the motives of Merced campus advocates, both public and private, had only tangential connections to educational needs, and two decades later that’s still true. UC Merced is the system’s poor stepchild.