The Unsettling Truths of Today’s Political Climate

By Kimberly Warmsley, LCSW 

Former Vice Mayor of Stockton, California

As a little girl, I was raised by grandparents who were fearless, intentional, and deeply rooted in the labor movement. They weren’t just organizers, they were visionaries. Strategic truth, they made the game. They were the true truth tellers who led walkouts, rallied for justice, and demanded fair wages and dignity for all. They carved out space where none existed, especially for people of color—especially for Black women.

My grandmother was one of the first Black women to work for the State of California. My grandfather, a proud union shoreman, endured relentless racism and colorism in his fight for equality. They taught me what it means to show up, even when the world tells you “You don’t belong”. Especially then.

Because of them, organizing is not something I do, it’s who I am.

It’s ingrained in my DNA to organize, to mobilize, and to fight for what’s right. I cannot sit still while families live paycheck to paycheck, while young people struggle to access higher education, or when mentorship and leadership remain out of reach for those who need it most. It feels disingenuous, immoral and just not right to ignore the poverty, the despair, the disconnection that so many in our communities’ face.

Organizing is an act of love. It’s how we lift people out of silence and into power. It’s how we build systems that reflect our values, not just our pain. And in a state as wealthy, as diverse, and as promising as California, it is unacceptable that so many are left behind.

To witness today’s political unraveling, the erosion of civil unity, the dismantling of hard-won progress, the normalization of heartbreaking hate. Monuments stripped of meaning. Justice twisted for personal gain.

Truth drowned in noise. It's suffocating.

Lately, I’ve had to turn off news alerts. What once informed me now overwhelms me, with reminders of corruption, racism, misogyny, and systemic oppression. Let’s be clear: racism is not history. It’s here. It’s loud. And its harm is undeniable.

California is the fourth largest economy in the world, yet poverty persists. Wages are unlivable. Healthcare is unaffordable. The pipeline to prison still thrives. And for our youth, especially in places like San Joaquin County, opportunity feels like a broken promise.

My daughter Lanai, nearly a 4.0 student double-majoring in Mathematics and Forensic Science, came home with hope in her heart and a drive to give back. She applied for nearly 100 job-seeking roles to tutor, to teach to uplift. The only offers. An entry-level security job and Amazon warehouse work.

Let me be clear: I don’t look down on any job. I was a single mom for many years and worked warehouse jobs to bolster and pull myself up. But when a brilliant young Black woman is shut out of opportunities to use her education and passion to serve her community, something is deeply wrong. She didn’t fail the system. The system failed her.

If we’re not intentionally building a meaningful workforce pipeline for the next generation, then we’re complicit in a setup, not a setup for success, but for stagnation. Our youth deserve more than manual labor when they carry the tools to change the world. To stifle their brilliance is to shrink our collective future.

What baffles me most is how many of our leaders have forgotten the meaning of hope.

Hope is not a slogan. It’s not performative. It’s not another empty promise wrapped in political spin.

Hope is policy. Hope is healing. Hope is investment. Real investment.

Hope is reform. Hope is equity. Hope is giving power to the historically unheard and unseen.

Hope is making sure our youth not only get the boots—but the straps to pull themselves up.

Hope is upsetting the setup.

And right now, we need that hope more than ever.

It’s time to rebuild. To reimagine. To reassemble.

To heal what has been broken and restore what has been stolen.

This work doesn’t fall on one person—it belongs to all of us.

Through collective impact, civic education, and real engagement, we can create change.

I am not easily broken.

I am not easily shaken.

But I will always be empowered.

With love and conviction,

Kimberly Warmsley, MSW, LCSW

Former Vice Mayor of Stockton