The Brief

Shannen Doherty could narrow her eyes and set her jaw with the best of the legendary divas. She could end a confrontation scene with the line, "I hate you both! Never talk to me again!" and storm off, and it made you want to throw your hands in the air and yell, "YEAH! GET 'EM!" She could also cry over a broken heart, nervously flirt, or defiantly pop off on adults who just didn't understand.

Man, she was so much fun.

Doherty, who died at 53, almost ten years after she was first diagnosed with breast cancer, was a child actor, most notably on Little House on the Prairie. She was in Heathers in 1988, which is a bright spot on any résumé. But she became an icon as Brenda Walsh on Beverly Hills, 90210, one of the biggest hits of the early '90s and the spark for many teen soaps that came later.*

The show debuted in 1990 when Shannen Doherty was 19. Its premise was that Brenda and her twin brother Brandon (Jason Priestley) moved out to Beverly Hills from Minnesota (apparently the most not-California state the writers could think of) to attend high school with the wealthy and beautiful. Brenda was our heroine and did all the heroine things: falling in love with "bad boy" Dylan McKay (Luke Perry), learning to fit in with rich blonde friends Kelly (Jennie Garth) and Donna (Tori Spelling), surviving a robbery, losing her virginity, being scared she was pregnant. The usual.

The show ran for ten seasons, but Brenda only stayed for four. As Doherty and 90210 both became popular, stories circulated about her being difficult on set, and Brenda's own sometimes obnoxious behavior (the creation of writers!) began to curdle. The line between Brenda and Shannen blurred, and a noisy population of people decided to hate them both. In fact, they began to treat the two as one person. By the time Doherty was 22, there was an entire article in the L.A. Times about the anti-fan club for people who hated Doherty/Brenda, and their newsletter, and the telephone tip line they set up to collect any nasty gossip about her that anybody cared to dump out. (Sad that the phrase "touch grass" was not invented early enough for people who set up telephone tip lines about celebrities they disliked.) She had reported feuds on set, the stories escalated, and she left.

Brian Austin Green, Shannen Doherty and Ian Ziering of BH 90210 speak during the Fox segment of the 2019 Summer TCA Press Tour at The Beverly Hilton Hotel on August 7, 2019 in Beverly Hills, California.

(

Amy Sussman

/

Getty Images

)

The show, while sometimes fun, was never as good without her. Never. Love you, Val, but no.

A few years later, she was cast in the sister-witches show Charmed, also from Aaron Spelling, the megaproducer behind 90210. (Apparently, whatever people may not have liked about her, they were okay with her helping them make money.) The cycle repeated: she was popular, then there were reports of difficulties on set, then she left. Doherty kept working, but she was never the big deal she had been during those years in the early '90s.

367898 Alyssa Milano, Holly Marie Combs, Shannen Doherty from the tv show "Charmed".

(

Hulton Archive

/

Getty Images

)

She announced her breast cancer diagnosis in 2015. And in November of last year, almost four years after she announced that her cancer had reached stage 4, she started a podcast called Let's Be Clear with Shannen Doherty. She talked about cancer. Jason Priestley came on. Tori Spelling came on. Holly Marie Combs from Charmed came on. Kevin Smith -- who directed her in Mallrats -- came on. Less than a month ago, she ran a conversation with Katherine Heigl, who is another famous supposedly "difficult on set" actress, and perhaps one of only a few people who could understand the existence of an "I hate you" club. Doherty just did not quit, did not go away, did not become quiet.

It's hard to talk about her impact because the kind of TV star Shannen Doherty was really doesn't exist anymore. To capitalize on 90210's popularity, Fox ran 22 episodes in the first season, then 28 in the second, 30 in the third, and 32 in the fourth. There was just so much work in those years. Brenda wanted to become an actress. She went to Mexico with Dylan against her parents' wishes. She moved back to Minnesota and then back to Beverly Hills. She got involved in animal rights activism -- which was Doherty's passion as well. She almost got married in Vegas! She won the lead in the college production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof! She pretended to be French! She pretended to be a Brooklyn diner waitress! This is part of how actors become admired and indelible: from the sheer volume of exposure. Imagine a live-action prime-time hour-long drama series in 2024 that has a new episode for more than 60 percent of the weeks in a given year. (They stayed on that 32-episode pace for several seasons after she left.) It was just a different universe.

The line between a firecracker and an arsonist can be razor-thin in the public imagination. Between "outspoken" and "difficult," between "feisty" and other words that haunt practically every woman who's ever said no to anybody about anything in a situation where it really mattered. I don't know what it was like to work with her -- or any of her colleagues, for that matter. Was it worse than lots of other college-aged kids would have been with hundreds of people relying on them week after week after week? I don't know. I just know what it was like to watch her work, and it was very, very good.

There is a very plausible argument that without Shannen Doherty, I would not be in this job. She made 90210 work, 90210 and its recap culture begat Dawson's Creek and its recap culture, and that begat Television Without Pity, where I first wrote for money.

Copyright 2024 NPR

On a brisk January morning, physician assistant Brett Feldman searched the streets of Los Angeles for patients, knocking on car windows and peering into tents. It was the day after a winter storm had doused the city, and many of the unhoused people Feldman usually treats had moved to find somewhere dry.

Feldman leads the street medicine team at the USC Keck School of Medicine, providing primary care to thousands of L.A.’s homeless individuals. Many have chronic conditions, mental health disorders, wounds or other medical issues; they need health care desperately.

But Feldman and other street medicine providers across the state are worried that changes made to Medi-Cal eligibility by President Donald Trump’s “One Big Beautiful Bill” will cause a majority of unhoused people to lose insurance, limiting their options for care.

“It’s very possible over 90% of people experiencing unsheltered homelessness will lose insurance,” Feldman said of his L.A. patients.

Medi-Cal, also known as Medicaid federally, provides health insurance for low-income people and those with disabilities. The new law requires states starting in 2027 to verify that able-bodied adults younger than 65 without dependent children are performing 80 hours or more of work each month in order to qualify for Medicaid. It also requires states to verify income and other eligibility criteria every six months as opposed to once per year.

State officials estimate up to 2 million people – about 14% of the state’s 14 million Medi-Cal recipients – will lose coverage, either because they don’t meet the work requirements or because they get overwhelmed by the paperwork.

Meeting those requirements will be particularly challenging for the state’s roughly 180,000 homeless people. They often have no phones or internet to complete a job application. They have limited access to meals, showers or clean clothes. They commonly struggle with addiction or mental health conditions and often don’t have the ability to work. Research shows that homeless individuals have far worse health outcomes and a lifespan nearly 20 years shorter than the general population.

Often those who need health care the most are the ones who are least able to work, Feldman said.

Physician’s assistant Brett Feldman checks his patient Gary Dela Cruz on the side of the road near his homeless encampment in downtown Los Angeles in November.

(

Larry Valenzuela

/

CalMatters/Catchlight Local

)

Without insurance, people who are unhoused won’t be able to pick up medications or find primary care providers. Their health conditions will worsen, and they’ll rely on emergency rooms more.

“This is going to be a huge issue for the unhoused,” said Kelly Bruno-Nelson, an executive director with CalOptima, an Orange County Medi-Cal plan that provides health insurance for an estimated 11,000 members with unstable housing.

Work exemptions

The law carves out exemptions for people who can’t work: those with substance use disorders, disabling mental health conditions, complex medical conditions and other disabilities. Children, people who are pregnant, foster youth and those with disabilities are also exempt from working, though they will be required to renew their Medi-Cal eligibility every six months.

On paper, many homeless Californians likely qualify for work exemptions. Nearly half of homeless Californians have a complex behavioral health need, including regular drug or heavy alcohol use, hallucinations or recent psychiatric hospitalization, according to recent reports from the UCSF Benioff Housing and Homelessness Initiative. About 60% report at least one chronic condition, and roughly a third have conditions that make bathing, dressing or eating difficult.

But to claim an exemption, a patient needs a doctor to certify it. Only half of insured and unhoused Californians regularly get care and only 39% have a primary care provider, Benioff data shows.

In L.A., even fewer unhoused people have a primary care provider. Just 7% of the population had seen a provider in the past year between 2022 and 2023, according to a study published by the USC Street Medicine program, meaning very few people would have medical exemptions certified under the new law.

That means many eligible people could lose Medi-Cal: people like Samantha Randolph.

The 37-year-old has lived the streets of L.A. for more than five years. She wouldn’t even know where to begin finding a job if she had to, she said. Her ID cracked in half, so she threw it away. Someone stole her phone months ago, and she has no recent work experience.

“I’m on my own. I’m doing this by myself,” Randolph said on that same January morning.

Randolph, who is seven months pregnant, would qualify for an exemption from the work requirements come 2027. Feldman’s team also checks on her regularly to monitor the baby and could certify an exemption if necessary. But even that’s no guarantee that Randolph wouldn’t inadvertently lose Medi-Cal.

Her health insurance expired six weeks prior to Feldman’s visit because the county enrollment office mailed the paperwork to an address where Randolph doesn’t live. Without Medi-Cal, which pays for maternity housing in the city, Feldman can’t get her inside.

“I’d love to get you out of here as soon as possible,” Feldman said to Randolph as he listened to her breathing and examined a bump on her head. “I’d love to get you somewhere safe and cozy.”

His benefits team has been working diligently in the background to re-enroll Randolph in Medi-Cal. Without identification and other documents, it has been a slow process.

State tries to automate eligibility checks

State Medi-Cal officials are working to launch an eligibility verification system that will automatically check for work requirement compliance and exemptions. They hope to spare the estimated 3.5 million Californians like Randolph who will need to comply with the law’s new requirements the headache of having to prove their qualifications on paper.

“This is a top priority for us in the department, really seeking to minimize the harm to members to the greatest extent that we can,” said Tyler Sadwith, state Medicaid director at the Department of Health Care Services.

The department is looking to purchase workforce data that will capture gig workers and more timely information about income than tax returns. The state already uses IRS data and information from other welfare programs like food stamps and cash assistance programs to verify Medi-Cal eligibility.

To exempt income-eligible students, the department wants to pull information from the state’s universities and colleges. And it is working to identify medical diagnosis codes that could be used to exempt people with disabilities or other qualifying conditions like mental health or substance use disorders.

If the state can link all of the data together, some qualifying and exempt Medi-Cal recipients won’t need to provide additional information.

“They won’t have to take action. They will receive a notification that they have been successfully renewed,” Sadwith said.

But there are gaps that will be difficult for the state to fill with automated data and questions left unanswered by the federal government. Evidence of volunteer work, for example, doesn’t exist in a large database, and it’s unclear if the federal government will require the medical diagnosis codes that could signal a qualifying exemption be reverified by a provider every six months. If they do, many unhoused Californians who don’t see a provider in time could still get kicked off of Medi-Cal.

Department officials also acknowledge that in states that have previously tried to implement work requirements, eligible people always fall through the cracks.

Matt Beare, a street medicine physician in Kern County, said falling through the cracks is the norm for people who are unhoused. Already, people like Randolph lose Medi-Cal all the time.

The law’s new requirements will only make that more likely.

Not even street medicine providers who work daily to find and follow up with unhoused patients can guarantee that they can locate them. Encampment sweeps, violent crime and weather force people to move frequently.

“The cost of falling through the cracks is likely human life,” Beare said.

Homeless could lose access, housing

California has invested significantly in street medicine teams over the past five years.

Street teams deliver comprehensive primary care services wherever unhoused people are: under bridges, on the side of the road, in encampments. They administer antipsychotic injections and contraceptives, provide wound care, deliver medications and help with substance use disorder treatment. Perhaps most importantly, they often travel with benefits counselors, social workers and housing specialists.

That and other Medi-Cal investments have helped the state chip away at its homelessness problem.

But with droves of patients expected to fall off of Medi-Cal, some providers predict that street medicine teams may also disappear, worsening the chance that unhoused Californians have a provider who can certify their work requirement exemptions.

“It's going to be very fiscally difficult for those programs to be able to sustain themselves,” Bruno-Nelson with CalOptima said.

Without Medi-Cal, unhoused people won’t be able to see specialists, get diagnostic testing or obtain most medications. They’ll rely more on emergency rooms. And because California policymakers have tied some housing and other social services to Medi-Cal, many experts worry members of this vulnerable population will lose their best chance at stability.

“These people are spinning through — some with 50 emergency room visits a year because they’re so sick — a vortex,” said Gray Miller, chief executive of Titanium Healthcare, a case management company that helps Medi-Cal recipients coordinate health appointments, find housing and manage chronic conditions.

Back in L.A. hours after he found Randolph again, Feldman takes a call and smiles. The county has finally approved her Medi-Cal application, which means Randolph now qualifies for maternity housing. He sends a colleague to pick her up.

“I’m so happy we got Sam inside.”

Supported by the California Health Care Foundation (CHCF), which works to ensure that people have access to the care they need, when they need it, at a price they can afford. Visit www.chcf.org to learn more.

This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.

This story first appeared on The LA Local.

In Los Angeles, the buzz around HBO’s “Heated Rivalry’ isn’t just about the drama on-ice, it’s sparking heated debates off the rink. 

Through her Substack, “Black Girl Watching,” critic and filmmaker Brooke Obie has been hosting in-person salons and online critique sessions about films like “Sinners” and the hit TV hockey romance.

“I believe in the power of criticism and the necessity of it as a tool to fight fascism and I am always going to create community spaces where we can think critically about the media we consume,” Obie told The LA Local.

As the show’s popularity grows, fans and advocates are asking whether its success reflects real inclusion or another moment of rainbow capitalism in sports.

Brooke Obie, creator of the Black Girl Watching Substack.

(

Courtesy of Brooke Obie

)

Obie said that there are many Black fans of “Heated Rivalry,” so she wanted to create a safe space for them to discuss it.

“(We) talk about some of the racial nuances of the show that impact the ways characters are treated by the fandom,” she said. “And (we discuss) how existing racist and sexist tropes can be used to interpret characters when too much is left to the imagination of the audience by the writers.”

The Canadian drama is based on the novels by Rachel Reid. It was created for TV by Jacob Tierney and follows two closeted rival hockey players, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander, whose secret romance unfolds over years of competition. 

It premiered quietly on the streaming service Crave before being licensed to HBO Max, where it grew into what HBO executive Casey Bloys called a “word-of-mouth sensation,” even with little marketing.

From left, Shane Hollander (Hudson Williams) and Ilya Rozanov (Connor Storrie) in “Heated Rivalry”.

(

Sabrina Lantos

/

HBO Max

)

The show’s success has been swift and unusual, given its origins on a small Canadian streamer and lack of marquee names. Its stars, Connor Storrie (Ilya) and Hudson Williams (Shane), have appeared at awards shows, carried the Olympic torch and posed for glossy photo shoots. Social media is flooded with fan edits and watch parties.

Recreational hockey leagues reported an uptick in queer participation.

But beneath the celebration, fans like Obie say the conversation is incomplete.

She said she noticed early on that online conversations about the show often lacked racial nuance — particularly around Shane, who is written as having a Japanese mother but rarely explores that cultural identity on screen.

“With a white author and a white showrunner at the helm, Shane’s lack of culturally Japanese experiences is a clear weak spot in a fantastic show,” Obie said.

Obie added that the goal of critical dialogue around the series is not to tear down the show but to create an inclusive space where LGBTQ+ fans of color and others in the margins can feel seen in a fandom that often skews white.

Joel Relampagos announces the casting of his new reality series.

(

Courtesy of Joel Relampagos

)

The show’s impact has been positive for a sports culture that has historically marginalized queer athletes. Specifically, there has been a queerification of sports since the show’s premiere, according to Emmy-winning producer Joel Relampagos.

Relampagos, who is developing a reality series focused on queer athletes, told The LA Local that he has seen more athletes willing to share their stories since the show premiered.

“We really have to eliminate that old mentality that being an athlete looks a certain way — like it’s a monolith,” Relampagos said. “When in fact, it’s so not.”

He has received submissions from queer hockey players across the United States and Canada, including many from L.A. Some are still closeted. Others say the show gave them courage to consider coming out.

Former professional golfer and LGBTQ+ sports law and policy expert Maya Satya Reddy told The LA Local that she has seen an influx of new queer hockey fans and increased interest in competitive recreational leagues such as Outloud LA, She/They Sports, GLASA Softball and Lambda Basketball in Los Angeles. 

“The impact ‘Heated Rivalry’ has had on so many, athletes and non-athletes alike, is incredible and something to be celebrated,” Reddy said. “But describing it as revolutionary in changing queer and trans sports spaces is disingenuous. It’s only been two months!”

Reddy, who is of South Asian descent, founded the Queer Asian Social Club, a Los Angeles-based LGBTQ+ advocacy group.

She said she left playing golf because of discrimination and pivoted to LGBTQ+ sports law and policy advocacy. She founded the Harvard Law School LGBTQ+ Sports Project and participated in programming for the first-ever Pride Day at PGA Championship.

“I have lived this,” Reddy said. “I have seen firsthand, both personally through my athletic career, and professionally in my law and policy work the importance of representation and its shortcomings.”

She celebrates “Heated Rivalry” but said there is still little effort to drive systemic change in the sport beyond the heavy attempt to capitalize financially on its success.

GBTQ+ sports law and policy expert Maya Satya Reddy plays golf.

(

Courtesy of Maya Reddy

)

Since the show debuted, Williams and Storrie’s fame has skyrocketed. So has that of their co-stars François Arnaud and Robbie G.K., who play characters that have a tertiary romance on the show.

“Hudson and Connor’s invitation to be torch bearers is the perfect example of the impact this show has had on sports,” said Reddy. “It is clear as day that the (International Olympic Committee) made this selection as a marketing ploy to capitalize on the craze.”

Reddy points out that IOC President Kirsty Coventry has recently made it a “core mission to target trans athletes.” 

In June 2025, Coventry created a working group to review “protecting the female category.” At the end of last year, it was reported that the IOC is considering a a policy that would ban transgender athletes from the Olympic Games, potentially affecting the 2028 games in Los Angeles.

Reddy also mentioned recent news of USA Hockey banning trans people from participating in certain programs. She noted that NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman, who praised “Heated Rivalry,” is the same commissioner who faced backlash for banning promotional warm-up jerseys, which included Pride-themed jerseys as well as Pride tape on hockey sticks. 

“I’m only aware of one person involved with ‘Heated Rivalry’ who spoke about any of this — Harrison Browne, a trans professional hockey player that appeared in the series,” Reddy said.

“At the same time, the two leads of the show were being congratulated and celebrated for being selected by the IOC as torch bearers for the Winter Olympics,” she added.

“Neither Hudson nor Connor has said anything about this ban in USA Hockey, nor have they, at least meaningfully, mentioned or celebrated their trans cast member Harrison.”

Some breezy conditions will linger this morning, but otherwise we're looking at a slightly cooler day.

The warmest area today will be the Coachella Valley, where temperatures will reach 75 to 80 degrees.

Elsewhere, we should stay under 80 degrees today across the region. The beaches will remain around the low to mid 70s, up to 75 degrees for coastal Orange County. Most L.A. County valleys, the Inland Empire and inland Orange County will hover in the mid to upper 70s.

The coolest areas today will be the Santa Clarita Valley, where temperatures there will be from 64 to 71 degrees, and the Antelope Valley where temperatures will range from 58 to 86 degrees.

The story first appeared on The LA Local.

Koreatown will be a bit crowded in June as thousands of fans gather for multiple FIFA World Cup watch parties.

Organizers from local Korean groups announced Wednesday the schedule of events as the South Korean team is set to play in three games in Mexico on June 11, 18 and 24. 

Viewing parties for the June 11 opener and the June 24 match where South Korea will take on South Africa will be held at Liberty Park in Koreatown. Organizers estimate 1,500 to 2,000 attendees and will close off Serrano Avenue next to the park to accommodate food trucks. A large LED screen showing the game will face Wilshire Boulevard, with sponsor booths lining the street.

Although kickoff for the games that will be broadcast in the evening, programming will start at 2 p.m. with performances and other activities at Liberty Park.

Event organizers include the Korean American Federation of Los Angeles, the LA Korean Festival Foundation, and the Korean American Chamber of Commerce.

The June 18 game against Mexico is projected to draw 2,000 to 3,000 attendees, organizers said. Duha Hwang with event organizer Advue said they plan to shut down Normandie Avenue along the same stretch used for the LA Korean Festival at Seoul International Park.

Programming for the Mexico match will start at 10 a.m. and run as an all-day event, Hwang said. 

“This will likely be the biggest game of the group stage for our neighborhood,” Hwang said. “Koreatown is home not only to Korean Americans but to many different communities. We want this to be a joint celebration, where both Korean and Mexican communities come together to support their teams.” 

South Korea’s opponent for the June 11 game will be determined after European league play concludes later this spring. They could play against Czechia, Denmark, North Macedonia or the Republic of Ireland.

Inglewood is one of several North American host cities for this year’s games, but South Korea will be playing their matches in Mexico.

Hwang said this year is especially meaningful, given the World Cup is being held in North America for the first time since 1994. 

“In 2002, many of us were in Korea cheering on the national team. Now, the World Cup is being held here, on the continent where we live. Being able to cheer for Team Korea here at home makes this moment particularly significant,” Hwang said. 

Organizers acknowledged parking will be limited and encouraged attendees to use public transit or rideshare services. Hwang said they will look into plans to operate shuttle buses.