Tony Thurmond’s quiet campaign reflects the shrinking voice of Black California | Opinion

Black excellence has long been woven into the fabric of California’s story—yet today, that chapter seems to be closing at an unsettling pace.

On Wednesday night, seven candidates for California’s highest office took the debate stage on CNN. Absent from that lineup—having failed to meet the fundraising threshold—was Tony Thurmond, the current state superintendent, who has polled as low as 2%.

A recent California Democratic Party survey shows that 14% of voters remain undecided—a ten-point drop since March.

Thurmond’s campaign is a reminder of the limits of California’s progressivism. As the only Black candidate polling high enough to be considered a contender, it is striking that the party has not rallied behind him. For Thurmond, this signals a deeper issue within the party’s priorities.

“I feel like there was a complete disregard for [diversity],” Thurmond said of the Democratic Party. “I feel like people have been making decisions not based on any values of any kind, but just, ‘Okay, oh, this person looks good in the poll, okay, I’m gonna support them.’”

The former Assemblymember said that California Democratic Party chair Rusty Hicks texted him the day he filed to gauge the viability of his campaign.

‘If the party really wants to winnow down to have one or two Democratic candidates, that should have happened nine months ago, not during the week of filing,’ said Thurmond of Hicks’ call for candidates polling low to get out of the race.

Thurmond is right to call out the misplaced priorities of California Democrats who have prevented voters from understanding candidates like him.

Seeing his real story

Ultimately, surveys and polls tell only half the story about a candidate.

“I don’t think that polls dictate who wins an election,” Thurmond said. “People do, and so I just want a chance for the people to hear my message. When someone tells me, ‘Hey, just drop out,’ I just think that’s unconscionable for someone to tell any candidate who’s willing to put in the work to run.”

What Thurmond is describing is the basic function of democracy, providing an equal platform for candidates to see each other and make the best decision on who should lead.

The fear of a Republican governor has warped the process, elevating only those with the deepest pockets or greatest name recognition—penalizing candidates like Thurmond who lack both. That California’s political system is remote to someone like Thurmond hits me right where I live.

When I was growing up, some days my mother would have enough energy only to cook her famous hot dogs.

She would slice the hot dog in half as the black cast-iron skillet sizzled with butter melting inside. She’d place the wiener on the hot skillet, and it would crackle, sending a wonderful smell into the kitchen that would make its way into my bedroom. My favorite part was when she placed a single slice of Kraft cheese on each bun before topping it with the steaming hot dog.

While devouring the delicious cheese dog, I looked at my mother in amazement and asked, “What kind of cheese is this?”

“Government cheese,” she said with a chuckle.

It took years for me to get the joke and the reality that my mother bought that cheese and many meals after that, with food stamps. “Government Cheese” is the nickname many in the Black community use for government assistance.

It was a term that I hadn’t heard in years until I talked with Thurmond.

“I was on public assistance, the food stamps, the government cheese,” Thurmond said. “That’s part of my story that I want voters to know — that I had that experience with the food stamp coupons… I was embarrassed by the food stamp coupons. And so, as an adult, I worked on legislation that now makes it possible for every student to get two meals a day without any shaming.”

Thurmond unlocked a memory through our shared experience as Black men — a story that resonates far beyond our community, touching many Californians who have struggled and persevered.

Diversity always matters

Having a diverse field of candidates is more than virtue signaling; it is a measure of whether we can truly fulfill the promise of representation.

Thurmond’s campaign — and the lack of follow-through from a state that claims to value racial diversity — suggests otherwise.

It suggests that diversity in California is more rhetoric than reality — an idea celebrated in speeches but rarely realized in action.

Even as the Black population dwindles, Black Californians still matter — and so does their representation. The treatment of Thurmond is a litmus test for whether the state’s promise of diversity is genuine.

California must reckon with whether its actions live up to its ideals — because the future of true representation depends on it.