‘More of a Purple Look’: California’s Transformation and Its Evolving Opposition to Donald Trump
The state's Democrats remain focused on opposing Donald Trump, while also navigating shifts within their own political environment.
TroibNews 
IRVINE, California — The resistance isn’t dead. It’s doing deep-breathing exercises in California.
Shortly after the election, a group of Orange County Democrats invited a therapist to help them process Donald Trump’s return to power. She discussed topics ranging from “stages of grief” to how to “increase distress tolerance” and “how to self-soothe.”
The Irvine Democratic Club’s approach to coping with a second Trump administration felt distinctly Californian, mirroring the mood in this state — a stronghold of progressive politics that stood in contrast to Trump during his first term.
“This is a safe place,” said the therapist, Rachel O’Neil, to the group of around two dozen Democrats as she began her presentation. She prompted attendees to raise their hands regarding feelings of sadness, fear, or exhaustion. O’Neil spoke about mindfulness, “micro-dosing hope,” and “radical acceptance.”
“Holding space for our feelings right now is very important,” she emphasized.
It became clear shortly after Trump’s election that the Democratic resistance would differ from its initial response in 2017. Nationwide, fewer Democrats are gearing up to march; some are even tuning out news completely. In Washington, Democratic lawmakers are redefining their strategies, with some progressives adopting elements of Trump’s populist policies while simultaneously expecting him to falter.
In California, Democrats are not only recognizing a shift in the nature of the resistance but also reassessing the state itself. The landscape looks markedly different than it did when Trump was first elected eight years ago — at that time, Elon Musk had deemed Trump “not the right guy,” Robert F. Kennedy Jr. was still relatively unknown, and Kamala Harris had just begun her Senate term after serving as state attorney general. In the aftermath of the November election, California appears in some respects more conservative. Democrats face a moment of reflection on their party’s and the state’s role in the political sphere.
Harris, despite easily winning California by about 20 percentage points, experienced a significant 9 percentage point shift toward Trump from 2020. Trump flipped ten counties that previously voted for Joe Biden and made inroads across the state. In Democratic-heavy Los Angeles County, he improved his loss margin by over 11 percentage points. In Orange County, a Republican stronghold before Hillary Clinton’s 2016 victory, Trump lost, but by nearly 7 percentage points less than in 2020.
At the presidential level alone, the Democratic losses in the state are noteworthy. Gray Davis, the former governor, outlined these setbacks, mentioning the ousting of San Francisco Mayor London Breed by a moderate Democrat over issues like homelessness and drug use. Similar political changes occurred in Oakland and Los Angeles, where progressive leaders faced recall election defeats.
Davis also pointed out the outcomes of recent ballot initiatives. A decade after Californians opted to reduce penalties for certain drug and property crimes, voters approved a tough-on-crime measure advocating for more stringent penalties. They rejected a proposal to ban forced prison labor and defeated measures aimed at raising the minimum wage and expanding rent control.
“Everyone ought to look in the mirror,” Davis remarked, “because they’re working for voters who are marching to a different drummer.”
Davis, who experienced political upheaval himself with a recall election in 2003, emphasized the volatility of political sentiments. He acknowledged that California is not turning red but warned that “the fight is never fully won” even after decades of Democratic gains.
In Irvine, Democrats didn’t plan to riot at the Capitol as Republicans did four years ago or claim the election was stolen. Instead, they engaged with a therapist and distributed cards with a hotline for immigrants in need of support.
After the meeting, I spoke with Florice Hoffman, Lauren Johnson-Norris, and Tammy Kim, a former Irvine city council member who recently lost her mayoral run. The atmosphere conveyed a sense of change within the resistance.
“In 2016, we went right to the streets,” Hoffman recalled, while Johnson-Norris noted, “we got something wrong … I think we just missed what people care about.”
Eight years prior, during the lead-up to the 2016 election, 54 percent of Californians believed the state was going in the right direction, according to a Public Policy Institute of California poll. That number fell to 38 percent this year, with two-thirds expressing concerns about the economy and anticipating tough times ahead. This stands in stark contrast to the more optimistic outlook of 2016.
Today, California faces skyrocketing home values, high rents, and a growing homeless population. The insurance crisis, largely driven by devastating wildfires, leads companies to drop coverage for those purchasing homes.
Despite cruising to reelection in 2022, Governor Gavin Newsom’s approval rating has dipped; currently, 53 percent of California adults disapprove of his job performance.
This context helps explain why, even within this Democratic bastion — where California Democrats flipped three House seats in November — the response to Trump’s anticipated return has been scattered. Sensitized to Trump’s potential agenda on issues from abortion to immigration, Newsom called a special legislative session to reinforce the state’s legal defenses, asserting that California “won’t sit idle.”
Nonetheless, he advocated for an “open hand, not a closed fist” approach to the upcoming administration, concurrently embarking on a job-seeking tour through some of the state’s more conservative areas. This move indicated an acknowledgement of the Democratic Party’s shortcomings with working-class voters.
Elizabeth Ashford, a former senior adviser to two governors and chief of staff to Harris during her tenure as attorney general, remarked that Newsom’s jobs tour embodies “a lot of humility.”
“Californians are miffed about the cost of living, affordability issues and the direction the state is going,” she stated. “What it means to be a Democrat in the state is going to shift — not toward the extremist and racist views of the Trump administration, nobody is going to stop resisting those. But it definitely is going to be a time to reflect on what does it mean to be a Democrat.”
While Republicans remain far from competitive in California, a state where Democrats hold supermajorities in both legislative houses and where no Republican presidential candidate has won since George H.W. Bush in 1988, it’s plausible that the dynamics could shift if Democrats don’t adjust their approach.
“It wouldn’t be shocking,” Ashford opined, “if we returned to more of a purple look.”
Jerry Brown, California’s governor when Trump first took office, remarked on the state’s reaction to a second Trump administration over half a muffin during our conversation at a Sacramento coffee shop. He had previously positioned California as a “beacon of hope to the rest of the world” amid Trump’s efforts to roll back progress on issues like climate change.
When I inquired about preparations for another Trump term, he indicated the process was straightforward: “Whatever he does that we don’t like, that’s the dispute,” he said. “Just write your damn brief and get going, that’s what the attorney general does.”
However, he noted, “Trump is more prepared … he’s going to be more extreme.”
Brown observed the same challenges Democrats faced in the election outcomes, highlighting Imperial County, an agriculture-heavy area bordering Mexico where Biden won by nearly 25 percentage points, yet Trump outperformed Harris this year.
“When you see Imperial County going for Trump and Orange County going for Harris,” he said, it highlighted a party that has been successful among wealthier coastal Californians while struggling with working families.
Democrats, in Brown’s view, need to “get their act together,” focusing “on the basic stuff — the economy, the environment.”
He also suggested that Trump might inadvertently create opportunities for Democrats. Referring to climate change, Brown explained, “If the assault on the environment is as extreme as expected, then I believe the fervor for protecting the environment will increase far beyond what it is today.” This mentality resonates with various Democratic lawmakers and activists.
During Trump’s first administration, California's attorney general, currently Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra, initiated over 100 lawsuits on topics ranging from immigration to healthcare and environmental concerns. As Sacramento prepares for Trump's return, some lawmakers and activists are advocating for increased funding to confront legal battles with the upcoming administration.
Following Trump’s inauguration, California is expected to reclaim its role as a significant counterforce against him. Newsom has presidential ambitions, as does Harris. In her first major address since conceding the election, Harris called on Americans to “stay in the fight.” As Trump begins enacting policies that California liberals vehemently oppose, especially concerning immigration and climate issues, widespread dissent seems inevitable.
Nonetheless, California Democrats are not retreating as they map out their future strategy. During a recent Sunday service at First African Methodist Episcopal Church of Los Angeles, Rev. Robert Shaw II urged for a new generation of civil rights leaders reminiscent of figures like Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Du Bois. Echoing the Montgomery bus boycott, he encouraged congregation members to boycott Amazon and Tesla in response to recent events.
“We were looking for America the beautiful, but instead we got the explicit version,” he remarked. “Not A-M-E-R-I-C-A. But we got A-M-E-R-I-KKK-A.”
“It’s time for us to stand up and do something,” he declared.
That same weekend, a coalition of advocacy groups in South Los Angeles convened to discuss California's response in the next Trump era. They also participated in breathing exercises and strategized on community support and protection.
Community organizer Daniel Jimenez emphasized the significant challenges ahead but expressed optimism, suggesting that this moment could “ignite the movement.” Labor icon Dolores Huerta referred to the activists as “Marines in the struggle.” Agustin Cabrera, another activist, shared, “Today is about expressing the real California, the ones who want more progressive policies. That’s the real California.”
California has often been — and largely remains — a progressive stronghold, yet that sentiment feels less certain since November.
On the same day the California legislature convened for a special session, I met with former Assembly speaker Anthony Rendon in suburban Los Angeles. When I mentioned the therapist in Orange County, he rolled his eyes.
“That’s so us,” he said, “It’s new age crap.”
Rendon pointed out that a significant challenge for California Democrats is appearing to “preach to the choir.”
While it’s possible to draw too many conclusions from shifts in a relatively small segment of the electorate, Rendon noted that “If you don’t realize now that there’s a huge part of this country who doesn’t care about democracy, dedicated to a strongman model, whether you call that fascism or whatever, that wouldn’t have changed if Kamala Harris had won the election.”
Reflecting on the current political landscape, he added, “we’re not where I thought this country was 15, 20 years ago.”
California may not be, either. Following Trump’s election in 2016, Rendon and Kevin de León, then president of the state Senate, expressed a sense of disconnection from a nation they believed no longer embraced California's values. However, looking ahead to 2024, Rendon acknowledged that his perspective on the country and California's place within it has shifted.
As he reflected on family and the future, he jokingly remarked that by the time his children reach voting age, “Maybe California won’t be part of the republic.”
While he emphasized that he wasn’t advocating for secession — a notion that has circulated among various groups in California and beyond — he expressed concern over the disconnect between his experiences and those of many in the rest of the country. The notion of a collective American identity in such a vast nation felt increasingly illogical to him.
“My wife and I will go to Tokyo or Mexico City and we’ll wander into a cool craft bar scene and feel like we have more in common with those people than we do with some NASCAR, evangelical kid from Mississippi … We’ve gotten sort of nostalgic in and around ideas of the U.S. I mean, the country started as a small little thing and now it’s 300 million people.”
Ultimately, Rendon stated, the nation-state is “an outdated idea.” California had once served as the heart of resistance, but now he found himself questioning the meaning of traditional American ideals.
In choosing Idaho as a contrasting example, he succinctly stated, “I don’t know that they want to be with us any more than we want to be with them.”
James del Carmen contributed to this report for TROIB News
Shortly after the election, a group of Orange County Democrats invited a therapist to help them process Donald Trump’s return to power. She discussed topics ranging from “stages of grief” to how to “increase distress tolerance” and “how to self-soothe.”
The Irvine Democratic Club’s approach to coping with a second Trump administration felt distinctly Californian, mirroring the mood in this state — a stronghold of progressive politics that stood in contrast to Trump during his first term.
“This is a safe place,” said the therapist, Rachel O’Neil, to the group of around two dozen Democrats as she began her presentation. She prompted attendees to raise their hands regarding feelings of sadness, fear, or exhaustion. O’Neil spoke about mindfulness, “micro-dosing hope,” and “radical acceptance.”
“Holding space for our feelings right now is very important,” she emphasized.
It became clear shortly after Trump’s election that the Democratic resistance would differ from its initial response in 2017. Nationwide, fewer Democrats are gearing up to march; some are even tuning out news completely. In Washington, Democratic lawmakers are redefining their strategies, with some progressives adopting elements of Trump’s populist policies while simultaneously expecting him to falter.
In California, Democrats are not only recognizing a shift in the nature of the resistance but also reassessing the state itself. The landscape looks markedly different than it did when Trump was first elected eight years ago — at that time, Elon Musk had deemed Trump “not the right guy,” Robert F. Kennedy Jr. was still relatively unknown, and Kamala Harris had just begun her Senate term after serving as state attorney general. In the aftermath of the November election, California appears in some respects more conservative. Democrats face a moment of reflection on their party’s and the state’s role in the political sphere.
Harris, despite easily winning California by about 20 percentage points, experienced a significant 9 percentage point shift toward Trump from 2020. Trump flipped ten counties that previously voted for Joe Biden and made inroads across the state. In Democratic-heavy Los Angeles County, he improved his loss margin by over 11 percentage points. In Orange County, a Republican stronghold before Hillary Clinton’s 2016 victory, Trump lost, but by nearly 7 percentage points less than in 2020.
At the presidential level alone, the Democratic losses in the state are noteworthy. Gray Davis, the former governor, outlined these setbacks, mentioning the ousting of San Francisco Mayor London Breed by a moderate Democrat over issues like homelessness and drug use. Similar political changes occurred in Oakland and Los Angeles, where progressive leaders faced recall election defeats.
Davis also pointed out the outcomes of recent ballot initiatives. A decade after Californians opted to reduce penalties for certain drug and property crimes, voters approved a tough-on-crime measure advocating for more stringent penalties. They rejected a proposal to ban forced prison labor and defeated measures aimed at raising the minimum wage and expanding rent control.
“Everyone ought to look in the mirror,” Davis remarked, “because they’re working for voters who are marching to a different drummer.”
Davis, who experienced political upheaval himself with a recall election in 2003, emphasized the volatility of political sentiments. He acknowledged that California is not turning red but warned that “the fight is never fully won” even after decades of Democratic gains.
In Irvine, Democrats didn’t plan to riot at the Capitol as Republicans did four years ago or claim the election was stolen. Instead, they engaged with a therapist and distributed cards with a hotline for immigrants in need of support.
After the meeting, I spoke with Florice Hoffman, Lauren Johnson-Norris, and Tammy Kim, a former Irvine city council member who recently lost her mayoral run. The atmosphere conveyed a sense of change within the resistance.
“In 2016, we went right to the streets,” Hoffman recalled, while Johnson-Norris noted, “we got something wrong … I think we just missed what people care about.”
Eight years prior, during the lead-up to the 2016 election, 54 percent of Californians believed the state was going in the right direction, according to a Public Policy Institute of California poll. That number fell to 38 percent this year, with two-thirds expressing concerns about the economy and anticipating tough times ahead. This stands in stark contrast to the more optimistic outlook of 2016.
Today, California faces skyrocketing home values, high rents, and a growing homeless population. The insurance crisis, largely driven by devastating wildfires, leads companies to drop coverage for those purchasing homes.
Despite cruising to reelection in 2022, Governor Gavin Newsom’s approval rating has dipped; currently, 53 percent of California adults disapprove of his job performance.
This context helps explain why, even within this Democratic bastion — where California Democrats flipped three House seats in November — the response to Trump’s anticipated return has been scattered. Sensitized to Trump’s potential agenda on issues from abortion to immigration, Newsom called a special legislative session to reinforce the state’s legal defenses, asserting that California “won’t sit idle.”
Nonetheless, he advocated for an “open hand, not a closed fist” approach to the upcoming administration, concurrently embarking on a job-seeking tour through some of the state’s more conservative areas. This move indicated an acknowledgement of the Democratic Party’s shortcomings with working-class voters.
Elizabeth Ashford, a former senior adviser to two governors and chief of staff to Harris during her tenure as attorney general, remarked that Newsom’s jobs tour embodies “a lot of humility.”
“Californians are miffed about the cost of living, affordability issues and the direction the state is going,” she stated. “What it means to be a Democrat in the state is going to shift — not toward the extremist and racist views of the Trump administration, nobody is going to stop resisting those. But it definitely is going to be a time to reflect on what does it mean to be a Democrat.”
While Republicans remain far from competitive in California, a state where Democrats hold supermajorities in both legislative houses and where no Republican presidential candidate has won since George H.W. Bush in 1988, it’s plausible that the dynamics could shift if Democrats don’t adjust their approach.
“It wouldn’t be shocking,” Ashford opined, “if we returned to more of a purple look.”
Jerry Brown, California’s governor when Trump first took office, remarked on the state’s reaction to a second Trump administration over half a muffin during our conversation at a Sacramento coffee shop. He had previously positioned California as a “beacon of hope to the rest of the world” amid Trump’s efforts to roll back progress on issues like climate change.
When I inquired about preparations for another Trump term, he indicated the process was straightforward: “Whatever he does that we don’t like, that’s the dispute,” he said. “Just write your damn brief and get going, that’s what the attorney general does.”
However, he noted, “Trump is more prepared … he’s going to be more extreme.”
Brown observed the same challenges Democrats faced in the election outcomes, highlighting Imperial County, an agriculture-heavy area bordering Mexico where Biden won by nearly 25 percentage points, yet Trump outperformed Harris this year.
“When you see Imperial County going for Trump and Orange County going for Harris,” he said, it highlighted a party that has been successful among wealthier coastal Californians while struggling with working families.
Democrats, in Brown’s view, need to “get their act together,” focusing “on the basic stuff — the economy, the environment.”
He also suggested that Trump might inadvertently create opportunities for Democrats. Referring to climate change, Brown explained, “If the assault on the environment is as extreme as expected, then I believe the fervor for protecting the environment will increase far beyond what it is today.” This mentality resonates with various Democratic lawmakers and activists.
During Trump’s first administration, California's attorney general, currently Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra, initiated over 100 lawsuits on topics ranging from immigration to healthcare and environmental concerns. As Sacramento prepares for Trump's return, some lawmakers and activists are advocating for increased funding to confront legal battles with the upcoming administration.
Following Trump’s inauguration, California is expected to reclaim its role as a significant counterforce against him. Newsom has presidential ambitions, as does Harris. In her first major address since conceding the election, Harris called on Americans to “stay in the fight.” As Trump begins enacting policies that California liberals vehemently oppose, especially concerning immigration and climate issues, widespread dissent seems inevitable.
Nonetheless, California Democrats are not retreating as they map out their future strategy. During a recent Sunday service at First African Methodist Episcopal Church of Los Angeles, Rev. Robert Shaw II urged for a new generation of civil rights leaders reminiscent of figures like Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Du Bois. Echoing the Montgomery bus boycott, he encouraged congregation members to boycott Amazon and Tesla in response to recent events.
“We were looking for America the beautiful, but instead we got the explicit version,” he remarked. “Not A-M-E-R-I-C-A. But we got A-M-E-R-I-KKK-A.”
“It’s time for us to stand up and do something,” he declared.
That same weekend, a coalition of advocacy groups in South Los Angeles convened to discuss California's response in the next Trump era. They also participated in breathing exercises and strategized on community support and protection.
Community organizer Daniel Jimenez emphasized the significant challenges ahead but expressed optimism, suggesting that this moment could “ignite the movement.” Labor icon Dolores Huerta referred to the activists as “Marines in the struggle.” Agustin Cabrera, another activist, shared, “Today is about expressing the real California, the ones who want more progressive policies. That’s the real California.”
California has often been — and largely remains — a progressive stronghold, yet that sentiment feels less certain since November.
On the same day the California legislature convened for a special session, I met with former Assembly speaker Anthony Rendon in suburban Los Angeles. When I mentioned the therapist in Orange County, he rolled his eyes.
“That’s so us,” he said, “It’s new age crap.”
Rendon pointed out that a significant challenge for California Democrats is appearing to “preach to the choir.”
While it’s possible to draw too many conclusions from shifts in a relatively small segment of the electorate, Rendon noted that “If you don’t realize now that there’s a huge part of this country who doesn’t care about democracy, dedicated to a strongman model, whether you call that fascism or whatever, that wouldn’t have changed if Kamala Harris had won the election.”
Reflecting on the current political landscape, he added, “we’re not where I thought this country was 15, 20 years ago.”
California may not be, either. Following Trump’s election in 2016, Rendon and Kevin de León, then president of the state Senate, expressed a sense of disconnection from a nation they believed no longer embraced California's values. However, looking ahead to 2024, Rendon acknowledged that his perspective on the country and California's place within it has shifted.
As he reflected on family and the future, he jokingly remarked that by the time his children reach voting age, “Maybe California won’t be part of the republic.”
While he emphasized that he wasn’t advocating for secession — a notion that has circulated among various groups in California and beyond — he expressed concern over the disconnect between his experiences and those of many in the rest of the country. The notion of a collective American identity in such a vast nation felt increasingly illogical to him.
“My wife and I will go to Tokyo or Mexico City and we’ll wander into a cool craft bar scene and feel like we have more in common with those people than we do with some NASCAR, evangelical kid from Mississippi … We’ve gotten sort of nostalgic in and around ideas of the U.S. I mean, the country started as a small little thing and now it’s 300 million people.”
Ultimately, Rendon stated, the nation-state is “an outdated idea.” California had once served as the heart of resistance, but now he found himself questioning the meaning of traditional American ideals.
In choosing Idaho as a contrasting example, he succinctly stated, “I don’t know that they want to be with us any more than we want to be with them.”
James del Carmen contributed to this report for TROIB News
