big time

In Congress, Katie Porter’s blunt, combative style helped rocket her to progressive stardom. It has also become her biggest vulnerability as she campaigns to be California’s next governor.

Her brusque approach, prosecutorial instincts and suburban mom appeal fueled Porter’s rise during her three terms in the U.S. House of Representatives, where she rattled CEOs and Trump administration leaders and batted away GOP challengers in a competitive Orange County district.

Her tack, however, made her a polarizing force within her own party, where fidelity remains an essential currency of success and power. In Congress, Porter clashed with then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and L.A.’s Rep. Maxine Waters.

The same rough edges that endeared Porter to many voters have also alienated some Democratic insiders and interest groups whose support could prove critical in the race to replace outgoing Gov. Gavin Newsom.

Then-Rep. Katie Porter meets with parents, doctors and diabetic patients in her Irvine office in 2019.

(Mark Boster / For The Times)

“She came in [to the governor’s race] as an outsider, as a mom, as a fighter. She wasn’t pulled into the establishment,” said Lorena Gonzalez, president of the California Federation of Labor Unions. “I think that’s why she’s popular with voters, because they want somebody who’s going to fight, and sometimes that ruffles feathers.”

In the campaign for governor, Porter, a single mother of three, has struggled to convert grassroots popularity into broader institutional support. Even after former Rep. Eric Swalwell dropped out of the race amid allegations of sexual assault, she has yet to see a major surge in support or endorsements from Democratic power brokers.

A pair of embarrassing videos continue to hang over her campaign. The videos, which surfaced in October, showed Porter yelling at a staff member and threatening to walk out of a television reporter’s interview.

As former U.S. Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra has ascended and she remained stagnant in polls following Swalwell’s exit, Porter has increasingly sought to redeem her image. She poked fun at the incident with her staffer in an ad, smilingly asking a group of whiteboard-wielding supporters behind her to “please get out of my shot.”

In recent debates, Porter has sought to play up the qualities that made her a standout among resistance-era progressives, needling former hedge fund executive Tom Steyer over his past investments in private prisons and the pressing Becerra for a “yes” or “no” on statewide single-payer healthcare. Porter emphasizes her support for single-payer healthcare, providing free child care and college tuition and making wealthy corporations pay their “fair share” in taxes.

Porter said she wants to increase taxes on the state’s wealthiest residents but doesn’t support the proposed billionaire’s tax ballot measure because it is a “one-time tax” that won’t solve the state’s underlying budget issues.

During a particularly chaotic debate last week, she scolded her opponents’ incessant interruptions and called out what she considered a double standard over her behavior.

“I can’t believe, with [the] interrupting and name-calling and shouting and disrespect for everyone up here who’s stepping into public service that anyone wants to talk about my temperament,” she said during the May 5 debate on CNN.

Though she acknowledged she mishandled both caught-on-tape situations and said she apologized to the staffer, the videos hindered her early momentum and have undercut her efforts to make inroads with potential allies in the race.

Porter speaks at a gubernatorial candidates forum on Sept. 28, 2025, in Los Angeles.

(Carlin Stiehl / Los Angeles Times)

Influential lawmakers, labor groups and party insiders have coalesced behind Becerra and Steyer, her top Democratic rivals.

Porter has scored some key endorsements. She is one of three candidates backed by the California Federation of Labor Unions, along with Steyer and former Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa. She also has support from Teamsters California, the National Union of Healthcare Workers and progressive groups such as Emilys List and California Environmental Voters, which dual-endorsed her and Steyer.

Union support is pivotal for Democratic candidates in California, sending a clear signal that they support the priorities of working-class voters. For Porter, who has proudly refused to accept corporate donations throughout her political career, the labor endorsements also help her attract the small-dollar donations that are essential to her campaign.

While in Congress, Porter proved to be a prodigious fundraiser. In her last reelection campaign for the House of Representatives in 2022, she raised more than $25.6 million in contributions — the second-most in Congress, behind only Bakersfield’s Rep. Kevin McCarthy, who was then the House Republican leader.

Still, her backing from elected Democrats remains comparatively thin. Along with her mentor, Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.), just three members of Congress have endorsed her gubernatorial bid: Reps. Robert Garcia of Long Beach, Dave Min of Irvine and Derek Tran of Huntington Beach. She also picked up an endorsement from Assemblywoman Cottie Petrie-Norris (D-Irvine) after Swalwell dropped out.

Though none would speak publicly, multiple sources who work in and around the state Capitol expressed concerns about Porter’s temperament and her willingness to work collaboratively with people she disagrees with.

“Katie Porter hurt herself big time because she needs anger management and she doesn’t have the temperament” to be governor, Democratic former Sen. Barbara Boxer said during a recent interview with NewsNation’s Leland Vittert.

Through her campaign spokesperson, Porter’s declined to be interviewed for for this story.

Porter questions Tim Sloan, president and chief executive officer of Wells Fargo, during a House Financial Services Committee hearing in Washington in 2019.

(Andrew Harrer / Bloomberg)

Defenders argue the backlash reflects a double standard for women in politics — a salient point in a state that, despite its liberal reputation, has never elected a woman as governor.

“Sacramento sizes up every gubernatorial candidate the same way: Can they win, and is this someone I actually want to work with?” said Elizabeth Ashford, a Democratic consultant who is not working with any of the candidates running for governor. “The videos showed an angry woman, and for a lot of people that translated to ‘I don’t want her as my boss.’

“It’s a double standard that dogs women in politics. Jerry Brown was famous for his loud, unfiltered outbursts and nobody questioned whether he was up to the job,” said Ashford, who served as the former governor’s deputy press secretary.

Gonzalez agreed, arguing that women who stand up for themselves “are often labeled as ‘difficult.’ Probably a lot of people think I’m difficult,” the labor leader added with a laugh.

Born in Iowa, Porter often connects her politics to her family’s financial struggles after losing their farm during the 1980s farm crisis. She earned degrees from Yale and Harvard, where she studied bankruptcy law under Warren. In 2012, while working as a law professor at UC Irvine, Porter was appointed by then-Atty. Gen. Kamala Harris to oversee California’s $18-billion mortgage settlement.

After defeating Republican incumbent Rep. Mimi Walters in 2018, Porter quickly emerged as one of the Democratic Party’s most recognizable progressives. Armed with a whiteboard and other visual aids in congressional hearings, she confronted banking and pharmaceutical executives over drug prices, consumer debt and corporate profits.

The props, theatrical at times, seemed to aggravate Waters, then the Democratic chairwoman of the Financial Services Committee. On several occasions, Waters sided with Republicans who challenged Porter’s use of visual and audio aids during hearings.

“Please do not raise your board. We’ve talked about this before,” the chairwoman scolded when Porter tried to hold up a “Financial Services Bingo” card during a 2019 hearing on debt collection. (She later got to show the board on “Late Night with Seth Meyers.”)

Eager to force change they campaigned on, Porter and other freshmen, including members of “The Squad,” at times clashed with Pelosi and other Democratic leaders.

Porter speaks to volunteers while campaigning in Mission Viejo in 2018.

(Victoria Kim / Los Angeles Times )

Porter has slammed lawmakers, including Democrats, for stock trading and funneling earmark funding to their home districts, arguing that such practices breed corruption and mistrust in Congress. The critiques irked Pelosi, a powerful force in California politics.

In her second term, the Orange County Democrat lost her coveted spot on the Financial Services Committee after she listed it as her third choice and requested a waiver to stay on it. Typically, members prioritize such high-profile committees and request waivers to serve on lesser ones in addition. The move was seen as a risk, the result a check on Porter’s ambition.

“So many of us, regardless of ideology, run on ‘shaking up Washington.’ But then when you actually come here, there’s a lot of consequences for doing that,” Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.) told The Times after Porter lost the committee position.

Porter’s willingness to buck party norms also raised eyebrows during her Senate campaign, when she entered the race for Sen. Dianne Feinstein’s seat before Feinstein had announced retirement plans in early 2023. Although then-Rep. Adam Schiff also launched an early campaign, he did so only after privately seeking Feinstein’s blessing. She ultimately finished third in the primary.

Her decision to run for Senate did not ingratiate her with Washington’s Democratic leadership. The party was forced to spend millions to ensure another Democrat was elected to her contested Orange County congressional seat, and Schiff, her top rival in the race, was a close ally of Pelosi — who endorsed him — and helped lead the first impeachment effort against President Trump.

Controversy surrounding Porter’s personal relationships have also surfaced during previous campaigns. In 2024, she obtained a five-year restraining order against a former boyfriend who she said bombarded her and her children with threatening messages.

When a whisper campaign about the end of her marriage threatened her first House run, Porter shared details of her 2013 divorce with the Huffington Post, including that her ex-husband, Matthew Hoffman, physically intimidated and verbally abused her. Hoffman also claimed to be the victim of abuse, including an incident in which Porter allegedly threw hot mashed potatoes at him. Both filed for restraining orders and sought anger management during the divorce.

Former employees have also rallied to her defense. In an open letter last month, 30 former staffers described Porter as a “workhorse” who “asked of us what she expected of herself.”

“She demanded a lot, but she also fought for us, mentored us, and stood by us when life got hard,” the former aides wrote. “We believe the public should understand the full person we know, not a caricature built from a few clips on a bad day.”

Porter has argued that voters are looking for someone willing to challenge powerful interests rather than accommodate them.

Katie Porter is interviewed after the California Gubernatorial debate at Skirball Cultural Center on Wednesday.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

“It’s on me to keep campaigning and keep demonstrating that,” she told reporters after a recent gubernatorial debate in San Francisco. “It’s also not lost on me that the last time the Democratic Party had a woman nominee for governor was 1994, when I was in college.”

The affordability crisis is at the forefront of the race to replace term-limited Newsom. As a single parent, Porter argues she is acutely aware of gas and grocery prices — as well as higher-stakes consequences.

She described feeling shocked when, during a recent conversation with her 17-year-old son, he asked if she would visit him if he moved to another state.

“I said, ‘Paul, you love California, why would you leave California?’ And he said, ‘Well, I’m thinking I might want to have a family and I might want to have a house, and I know that means I’ll have to leave California,’” Porter recounted at a March forum hosted by the California Assn. of Realtors. “We need to be a state that doesn’t just retain people like my son … but welcomes new families.”

The centerpiece of her proposed “affordability solutions” are free child care, free tuition at UC and CSU schools for students who complete two years of community college, and ending income taxes for those who earn less than $100,000 — an idea she acknowledges she “stole” from Republican candidate Steve Hilton. “I will take a good idea anywhere I can get it,” she said at a recent forum.

To pay for it, Porter would impose a progressive corporate tax, meaning more profitable businesses and corporations would pay a higher rate. A less than 1% tax hike on businesses that earn hundreds of millions in profit would bring in around $8 billion, according to her website.

“I think she deeply and personally understands the everyday struggles that so many Californians are grappling with right now,” said Petrie-Norris, who last month became the first state legislator to endorse Porter.

While Petrie-Norris describes herself as more politically moderate than Porter, the Irvine assemblywoman praised her as a “pragmatic problem-solver” and “proven fighter” who has taken on corporate interests and the Trump administration.

For a while, Porter was one of four women among the major candidates running for governor. One by one they have dropped out of the race, citing difficulties raising money and support.

After sharing the debate stage with five men recently, Porter was asked whether California is ready for a female governor.

“I sure as hell hope so,” she said.

Kountry Wayne likens the dream he’s currently living to an old sitcom that has made the world laugh for decades. “I feel like I’m the new version of ‘Beverly Hillbillies,’” he says. “I’m in Hollywood — I’m here, but I’m still not here, so I just think that’s the most country thing about me.” To his point, the comedian born DeWayne Colley has definitely hit the big time after getting his start in comedy in 2014 (trying his skills as a rapper before that) by working on his stage craft and cooking up Southern-fried viral skits inspired by his small-town Georgia roots. Fast-forward 12 years and his growing empire includes independent movies (including his upcoming film “That’s Her,” which he financed himself), a flood of both dramatic and comedy-driven short skits featuring a wide range of actors, a debut Netflix special (2023’s “A Woman’s Prayer”) and now his latest hour, “Nostalgia,” premiering Monday on Prime Video.

By spending a new hour looking back at a bygone period, specifically the ’90s, when Wayne grew up, the 38-year-old comedian is bringing a fresh approach to the Def Comedy Jam era that he hopes resonates with comedy fans of his generation and younger fans who found him through TikTok and had no idea he even did stand-up. As someone whose comedy career has skyrocketed over the last several years, Wayne’s sights continue to be set toward future opportunities to bring relatable humor to the masses who have that country cousin who walks, talks and jokes just like him.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

What does the word “Nostalgia” mean to you?

A good feeling. It means bringing people together through laughter like the good old shows back in the day — “Saved by the Bell,” “Family Matters.” It just is that feeling, whatever that feeling was that we couldn’t put in a jar, I wanted to bring that in my special to just make everybody laugh and forget about the stuff that’s always gonna be here — bills and drama and violence. Just take a break, have fun, and take the breaks we used to take when we used to watch those TV shows in the ’90s.

By the shows you mentioned, I know we’re about the same age. We grew up with the same TV sitcoms and yet still valued being outside, which feels like a foreign concept today.

Yeah, it’s that feeling of all those movies. Man, “Clueless,” when I see that movie, to this day, I still got crushes on all [those girls]. I always wanted to go to the high school in “Saved by the Bell.” So I just want to give that feeling that I felt, because a lot of the new generation didn’t get to experience those shows and those feelings. So even for the younger generation, I want them to be able to experience that through my special.

What was small–town life in Millen, Ga., like for you as a funny kid growing up?

I was so poor, it wasn’t nothing really funny. The town was so small — one [stop]light, the elementary school, high school, all in one school. You had to joke your way to make you think that you weren’t there. You kind of had to escape through jokes. So I just made people laugh wherever I was. No matter how serious the situation is, I can’t do anything about it. I might as well laugh. I remember the lights went off one time when we were eating cereal. I was like, “Mama, hey, come on. I can’t see — I can’t see the milk, the cereal, the bowl. And you’re telling me I need to do my work. I think you need to go to work.” In a small town, you had to laugh because there was nothing else, there was no opportunity.

“In a small town, you had to laugh because there was nothing else, there was no opportunity,” Kountry Wayne said about growing up in Millen, Ga.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

You gravitated to music early in life, becoming a rapper before you did stand-up. What was it about performing that helped you forget about the troubles that were going on around you?

I always felt like I was onstage already, so by the time I actually got onstage, the lights never did nothing to me, or the fame and all of that. Because I’m just so thankful to be able to do stand-up and have people come and watch me do it. I never had time to really feel the fame and all of that. So I just think everything I went through in that small town helped me. Everything is a small town to me. Hollywood is still a small town to me, because whoever I know, that’s who I know; whoever I don’t know, I just don’t know ’em. Because in that small town, you were so far away from the big cities like Atlanta, New York, L.A. I was three hours from Atlanta [growing up], so I think that really helped me to get where I’m at today to do comedy the way I do it.

Just keep it “kountry.”

Yeah, keep it kountry. Man, oh, that’s the next [title of a new special].

What do you feel like is the most country aspect of you as someone who’s now a popular comedian?

My family — all my family around me. You come to my house. It’s an uncle, daddy, a sister, brother, kids everywhere. I feel like I’m the new version of “Beverly Hillbillies.” I’m in Hollywood, I’m here, but I’m still not here, so I just think that’s the most country thing about me. If you meet my family, you understand. They don’t say shrimp, we say “scrimps” or “o’er dere” [instead of] “over there.” With my accent, imagine it’s 10 times worse with my family. So I think I remind people that everybody in L.A., New York got a cousin somewhere in Mississippi, because a lot of us are from the South anyway. So I just think I remind people of simple, country people.

With the Southern flavor you bring to comedy, I kind of liken it to hip-hop, when it comes to the regional styles of different comics. How does that play into creating a special that brings the South to the world?

It’s crazy that you say that [you] think about hip-hop when I do that. I’m gonna be me so much that people who don’t know me are gonna be interested in me, because it’s different than everybody else. I feel like I’m a really country person with that Southern drawl or the way I talk. I talk like them uncles and all of that. So I just feel like it’s gonna make everybody feel at home. I didn’t try to switch it up. I’m gonna be me because I feel like, deep down, everybody knows [someone like] me somewhere. They’re gonna relate to me in some kind of way, and it feels safe because I’m being me. I’m not out there being fake, this how I talk. I’m a country boy. I’m not from the big city, and this is what I’m giving the world. And those who love it, I appreciate it. Those who don’t love it, I still love you.

“I think I remind people that everybody in L.A., New York got a cousin somewhere in Mississippi, because a lot of us are from the South anyway,” said Kountry Wayne.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Being a dad to 10 kids is something that’s been a part of your storyline in comedy and that people have gravitated to. How does your ability to survive and make it all work play into your comedy?

Child support would really make you very, very funny. It actually plays a lot into it, because if it wasn’t for those kids, I don’t think I’d stand out as much as I am. Because we’ve heard every joke, everybody’s been funny. Come on, man, we’ve seen Jim Carrey, we’ve seen Eddie Murphy, we’ve seen Dave Chappelle. Funny has already been done. So I think what helps me stand out is my story with my kids and my family. It’s funny, but it’s still OK. This is a different perspective than we see with all those kids, the mothers, you know, but he’s not with the mothers, but he’s there with the kids, and you take care of the mothers. It’s so much of a unique situation that I think that’s what makes it stand out.

Who’s your funniest kid?

[My daughter] Honest. Honest is the funniest person in my life. Her name’s Honest, but she lies — she makes up all these stories about what happened at school. [She’ll say,] “I got arrested today.” I’ll be like, “Honest, you did get arrested?” [She’ll say,] “Well, they was about to arrest me, but they didn’t.” She reminds me of me, but she is just a little bit more witty because she don’t got no trauma like I did. I come from poverty. She’s rich. She goes to this Christian school full of white people, and she thinks she’s a white baby now. The white girls have this clip they put on their hair. She bought her clip. Now her hair not floating like theirs. Her hair is definitely stiff. I’m like, “Honest, you don’t need that clip!” She’s in dancing. She don’t go to practice. When she goes to the dance recitals, it’s clear that she can’t dance and we always ask her, “Do you know the dance?” Every time she gets there, she says, “Yeah,” but she gets there and she’s always watching the other kids. She was the only one [who’s] off.

She is so funny. I put her in the skits. She says the wittiest things. She asked me one day — I got a lot of kids — and she said, “Daddy, which one of your kids you love the most?” She said, “Do you love all your kids?” I said, “Yeah, I love all of y’all.” She said, “Well, come here. Let me talk to you right quick.” She took me to a picture I had in my man cave, “She said, ‘Well, why all of us [not in the picture]?’”… She’s my comedian.

Speaking of the skit-producing pipeline/network you‘ve developed over the last several years, how has that been instrumental to your comedy career, and also your career as sort of a producer in developing content?

I think that content helped me more [with] being known as a producer and a filmmaker and an actor. So I think it helped my acting career, the first part of my life, and all the skits helped my comedy because it was just me being funny, but the skits I put out now help people look at me more as a businessman, an entrepreneur and an actor. And it’s crazy, some people now even know me from the skits. And when they come to the [stand-up] show, they’re going to be shocked. A lot of my fans who met me when I started writing the storylines, when they see this [“Nostalgia”] special they’re like, “He never showed us that!” Because that person I am onstage, I don’t be that on social media anymore, so you have to go watch me on stand-up to give that energy that I give. But my Day 1 fans met that guy. These fans I’ve made over the last four or five years were probably equivalent to my Day 1 fans. It’s a large fan base but they don’t even know that I could [do] stand-up like that.

Comedian Kountry Wayne holds up his gold neck chain with his mom’s face on it.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

That’s nostalgic in a way. I’m thinking of a TV dad like Bob Saget, who was so different when you saw him do stand-up. You’re like, “Wow, Danny Tanner is filthy!” That’s great that you can kind of separate the two personas. What do you feel is next for you in comedy?

To bring that to the big screen, for sure. All my talents and gifts that I worked on, in a way, [have] gotten better. I put the work in, I’m ready to show it on the screen. I think it’s happening organically, like the special [on] Amazon, that’s organic. I had one on Netflix now they wanted me to do one at Amazon, and I just want to show the world what I’ve been working on, and the time, energy I put into a broader scale … So I’m just excited, and I feel like a kid again, because I got so many responsibilities and kids I take care of. It took a while for me to get back to this point where I could just be an artist. Because I wanted to be an artist, but then I had a lot of kids, so I had to be a provider. But now I’m in a position where all that is handled, so I feel like a kid again when it comes to the art.