young son

An aide involved in an affair with Gavin Newsom more than 20 years ago, when he was mayor of San Francisco, detailed their relationship and her journey to sobriety in an essay published by Vanity Fair on Tuesday.

Although Ruby Rippey, 54, has spoken previously about her relationship with the now-governor, her first-person essay offers the most intimate description yet of the affair. It comes at a time when Newsom is wrapping up his final year as California governor and considering a presidential run in 2028.

Rippey, who had worked as Newsom’s appointments secretary, was married to Alex Tourk, the then-mayor’s close friend, campaign manager and prior deputy chief of staff, when the affair became public in 2007. Tourk resigned after Rippey told him that she had been sleeping with their boss, she writes.

At the time, Newsom was newly divorced from Kimberly Guilfoyle and he apologized in front of a gaggle of reporters who packed his office for a news conference, admitting “everything you’ve heard and read is true.” Later, he said he was seeking treatment for alcohol abuse.

In the essay, Rippey details that the affair with Newsom happened when she was a new mother and when her drinking, which had been a problem before the relationship, spiraled out of control.

Rippey writes that their relationship began in July 2005 after a wedding at a Napa Valley estate and spanned months, with intermittent sexual encounters until she entered rehab in May 2006.

They met at his penthouse in San Francisco’s Russian Hill neighborhood, at a private back room in a bar in North Beach and at the W Hotel in Los Angeles, she writes.

“We meet and we drink. There is sex, but it isn’t the point. The point is proximity — to power, to being chosen, to feeling newly visible — no longer muted by pregnancy, by new motherhood, by the strain of white-knuckling long stretches of sobriety,” she writes. “It isn’t love. It isn’t romance. It’s intoxication.”

Izzy Gardon, a spokesperson for the governor’s office, said on Tuesday that Newsom acknowledged his role and publicly apologized for the affair nearly two decades ago.

“In the time since, he met his wife, started a family and has focused on serving Californians. He addressed this chapter of his life, including in his memoir, and out of respect for everyone involved, does not have anything further to add,” Gardon said.

The affair occurred while Gavin Newsom was mayor of San Francisco.

(San Francisco Chronicle / Hearst Newspapers)

Newsom faced renewed criticism for the affair during the 2018 governor’s race amid a larger reckoning over sexual misconduct in politics, corporate America and Hollywood. But Rippey has said she doesn’t see herself as a victim of a powerful man.

“Yes, I was a subordinate, but I was also a free-thinking, 33-yr old adult married woman & mother. (I also happened to have an unfortunate inclination towards drinking-to-excess & self-destruction.),” she wrote on Facebook at the time.

She still doesn’t place blame on the governor for what happened, but noted in her essay that in the post-#MeToo era she came to realize that her then-boss had a responsibility to “hold the line.”

“That didn’t happen. But I didn’t stumble into the space left open — I saw a possibility and went for it,” she writes. “Both things are true: I am responsible for what I did. Power does not distribute consequences evenly.”

For Newsom, she writes, the affair is merely a “footnote in a longer arc of ascent. For me, it is the fracture that split my life into before and after.”

In his memoir, “Young Man in a Hurry: A Memoir of Discovery,” published this year, Newsom acknowledges the liaison with Rippey, describing it as “the briefest of affairs.”

He also writes that he admitted the betrayal to Tourk, a detail that Rippey takes issue with in her essay. She says she was the one who first broke the devastating news to her husband via email while she was at her parent’s house in Napa and he was home in San Francisco with their young son.

“But resentment is a luxury I can’t afford,” she writes. “Instead, I return to gratitude, not for the affair, not for the pain I caused Alex, but for the totality of what followed. I required something catastrophic to change direction. Something that made the cost of going back — of drinking again — unthinkable.”

After the affair, Rippey and Tourk divorced but continued to co-parent their son, who is now an adult. She’s been sober for 20 years, she writes, remarried and now has a son with her second husband.

“The damage was mine,” she writes at the conclusion of her essay. “But so is the life rebuilt in its wake.”

Times staff writer Taryn Luna contributed to this report.

In “Rheology,” Shayok Misha Chowdhury, an experimental theater artist, and his mother, Bulbul Chakraborty, a theoretical physicist, bridge the language of their different disciplines to explore a subject dear to both of them: loss.

Chowdhury, author of the play “Public Obscenities,” a 2024 finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, and the director of the sensational off-Broadway production of Jordan Tannahill’s “Prince Faggot,” is as tenderly devoted to his mother as the young Marcel was to his own in Proust’s “In Search of Lost Time.” The idea of his mother dying is insupportable to Chowdhury, but given that she’s in her 70s and he’s in his 40s, certain terrifying realities must be faced.

“Rheology,” which is receiving its West Coast premiere at REDCAT (in a brief run ending Saturday), is the piece they’ve created to prepare Chowdhury for that fateful day. This strikingly staged Bushwick Starr, HERE Arts Center and Ma-Yi Theater Company production is an interdisciplinary experiment that is as playful in its methodology as it is serious in its research aims.

Chakraborty, a professor at Brandeis University, starts off with a physics lesson. Her subject is sand, and she poses a simple question: Is the sand pouring through the hourglass sitting on the counter before her a liquid or a solid?

A charismatic teacher, she knows how to Socratically engage a room. Her welcoming manner draws out from the audience the different ways sand behaves both like a solid and like a liquid.

Shayok Misha Chowdhury, in rear, and Bulbul Chakraborty in “Rheology” at REDCAT.

(Roy and Edna Disney CalArts Theater [REDCAT])

Rheology, or the science of how a substance responds to external stress, is her chief interest. Her research, focused on soft condensed matter, has been seeking a comprehensive theory to explain the curious elasticity of such material. A photo of a sand dune, in which she’s seated alongside Chowdhury as a toddler, helps illustrate her point that sand can flow like a liquid yet retain its shape like a solid.

An onstage sandbox is more than just another visual accompaniment to her talk. It’s a source of both elemental mystery and childlike wonder. But elucidation is her motive. She enters the box with her bare feet, noting the way the sand flows around her toes yet supports her weight in observation of the rule that “every grain has to be in force balance.”

She writes equations on the board to explain these findings, equations that begin to glow as the production moves from the realm of pure science to the more slippery domain of art. The transition, like all aspects of this piece, is frolicsomely conducted.

While pouring sand from one container to another, Chakraborty appears to be overcome with dust. For a moment, it’s not clear if this is part of the show or a medical incident until Chowdhury, discreetly occupying a seat in the audience, asserts himself as the director. He asks his mother to run through the death scene with a different sequence of movements and introduces the accompaniment of George Crotty on cello to liberate her performance.

They are rehearsing not so much Chakraborty’s end but Chowdhury’s reaction. He assumes he will fall apart and vows to die himself out of heartbreak. Chakraborty wants him to carry on his work, just as she carried on her research as a mother with a young son who would wail uncontrollably when she would drop him off at daycare.

She recounts that his emotional outbursts were so extreme that it was painful leaving him behind. But she was assured that he was handling the separation. For proof, she was taken into a private teacher’s room, where through a one-way mirror she saw him compose himself shortly after her departure and start to play with the other children.

Mother and son enact a similar situation where, after a more permanent leave-taking, she can catch a glimpse of her son recovering himself sufficiently to survive her loss. Chowdhury, a queer artist who enjoys sampling performance modes, adopts the figure of the grieving Bollywood widow. The effect isn’t to lampoon but to confront his raw emotion and to test his capacity for resilience.

The experiment might sound sentimental, but Chakraborty, the production’s secret weapon, maintains a scientific restraint, albeit one suffused with maternal anguish. The way she listens to her son, takes in his feelings, gently suggests other possibilities of response and treats his experimental theater piece with the same dignity as her own research is incredibly moving to witness. Her performance won an Obie Award, and though she insists that she’s not an actor she demonstrates a sincerity and collaborative grace that many veteran performers would envy.

As it unfolds, “Rheology” can seem piecemeal, even haphazard. There’s an informality built into the production, but it’s somewhat deceptive because the mercurial staging is extremely precise. Chowdhury’s direction has visual panache. Kameron Neal’s video design transforms Krit Robinson’s part lab, part lecture hall set into something kaleidoscopic.

When mother and son sing songs from the famous cycle by Bengali writer-composer and Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore or hold a deathbed conversation in Bangla, the piece spins further across time and space. Empiricism gives way to surrealism. But the world, as any scientist probing into the atomic level can attest, contains more secrets than meets the eye.

Fragile matter is Chakraborty’s specialty, and her expertise is put to novel use in shoring up her son’s tender heart.