The Brief

Eight years ago, California passed a law requiring high schools to allow students to wear eagle feathers, abalone necklaces and other regalia at graduations.

But so many schools — more than half, by one estimation — have thrown up roadblocks to implementing the law that one lawmaker has brought the issue back to the Legislature.

“It’s very disappointing that even after all this time, some districts still aren’t compliant,” said Assemblyman James Ramos, a Democrat from San Bernardino, who’s sponsoring the current bill. “We hope this bill gets us where we need to be.”

Ramos’ bill, AB 1369, eliminates the pre-approval process for students seeking to wear any type of cultural regalia at graduations, Native American or otherwise. Fifty-six percent of high schools allow students to wear regalia but only if they get advance permission, sometimes weeks before the ceremony, according to a 2024 study by the American Civil Liberties Union and California Indian Legal Services.

Schools say they need a pre-approval process — for all students, not just Native American students — because they want to ensure graduation adornments are respectful and appropriate. Students of other backgrounds also occasionally opt for adornments, such as kente cloths, and have to undergo the same approval process.

Assemblymember James Ramos, a Democrat from Rancho Cucamonga, speaks during an assembly floor meeting at the state Capitol in Sacramento, on April 18, 2022.

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Rahul Lal

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CalMatters

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The bill, which passed the Assembly and is now working its way through the Senate, applies to any form of cultural regalia, although its definition of “cultural” is vague: “Cultural means recognized practices and traditions of a certain group of people.” That ambiguity is why a pre-approval process is necessary, some school districts say.

Native students, their families and tribes say it should be their decision as to what’s appropriate tribal attire, not the school district’s. They also say the approval process is too far in advance of the ceremony; often, students receive their regalia on the day of the event, sometimes as a gift from a grandparent or tribal elder. Showing up at graduation unsure of whether you’ll be allowed to wear a cherished piece of regalia can be nerve-wracking and embarrassing, Native students have said.

‘Proud to be Native’

Jennie Rocha, a freshman at Oregon State University, said she was nervous last year when she arrived at her graduation ceremony at Clovis North High wearing a Comanche stole that the school had initially denied.

The stole, provided by the tribal headquarters in Oklahoma, was inscribed with “we the people” in English and Comanche. When Rocha first applied for approval to wear it, she was denied. But after her father complained to the school board and local media reported on the dispute, the school granted approval.

“I wanted to wear it because I feel like everything I have is because of the Comanche. I wouldn’t be able to go to college without their support,” Rocha said. “I’m proud to be Native and I wanted to show that.”

Although there may have been delays and initial denials, Clovis Unified hasn’t ultimately stopped a student from wearing cultural adornments at graduation, said district spokesperson Kelly Avants. The district stands by its approval process as a way to minimize disruptions on the day of the graduation and screen out potentially offensive adornments.

Not having an approval process “creates an extremely vulnerable position for school districts and hinders the ability of staff to protect students from the trauma that comes from cultural appropriation, or a situation where someone intending to mock or harm a race or culture is able to do so because school administrators are not allowed to validate adornments,” Avants said in an email.

Students of Mt. Eden High School, in the Hayward Unified School District, attend their graduation ceremony in the Pioneer Amphitheater at Cal State University East Bay campus in Hayward, on June 5, 2024.

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Laure Andrillon

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CalMatters

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In Rocha’s case, the district initially denied the request because staff weren’t clear on personal elements of the stole and wanted to check with Comanche tribal leaders, Avants said. That caused a delay before the district ultimately approved the stole, she said.

The Association of California School Administrators hasn’t taken a position on Ramos’ bill, but their attorneys apparently agree with Clovis’ stand.

“Districts have to have some parameters, otherwise you’re going to end up with a free-for-all on the night of graduation,” attorney Sloan Simmons said in an April podcast advising the state’s school administrators. “That’s the only rational way to handle this.”

The California Department of Education formed a task force to study the issue. The task force was supposed to create a report for the Legislature by April 2023, but it hasn’t yet. Meanwhile, the Department of Education is advising school districts to consult with local tribes if they opt to have a pre-approval process for regalia.

Trump’s anti-DEI orders

Another potential barrier to graduation regalia is President Donald Trump’s announcement in February that the federal government would withhold school funding to districts that have diversity policies and programs, specifically mentioning graduation ceremonies. A judge temporarily blocked the order last month, saying it was overly vague, and California more recently filed a separate lawsuit to stop the order.

Meanwhile, confusion persists over any school policy that singles out or gives special treatment to a particular ethnic group.

Heather Hostler, executive director of California Indian Legal Services and a member of the Hoopa Valley tribe in Humboldt County, said she’s not worried about Ramos’ bill defying Trump’s order because recognized tribes are sovereign nations over which the federal government has no authority, she said.

The push for tribal regalia started as a way to tout the accomplishments of Native students, whose graduation rate — 80% — lags behind the state average of 87%. It’s also a way to strengthen Native culture by raising awareness and giving Native communities something to rally around, Ramos said.

“When someone graduates, it’s a big deal,” Ramos said. “The whole tribal community comes together. It makes sense that you’d be gifted something for your accomplishment.”

History of discrimination

Other recent laws, many by Ramos, have also addressed the treatment of Native Americans in K-12 schools. One law bans Native American school mascots. Another updates history curriculum to include the genocide of Native Californians.

These laws are meant to help reverse more than a century of discrimination against Native students in California schools, said Morning Star Gali, founder and executive director of Indigenous Justice, an advocacy group.

Until the 1970s, many Native young people were sent to boarding schools where they were forced to abandon their language and culture. History curriculum often glamorizes the Mission and Gold Rush eras, when Native tribes suffered devastating losses.

Ethan Molina wears his graduation stole and holds feathers in front of his home in Fresno on May 14, 2025. Molina, a member of the Pascua Yaqui Tribe in Arizona and a senior at Clovis West High, was told by the school district that he could not wear the stole to his graduation ceremony.

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Larry Valenzuela

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CalMatters/CatchLight Local

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Ethan Molina wears his graduation stole and holds feathers in front of his home in Fresno on May 14, 2025. Molina, a member of the Pascua Yaqui Tribe in Arizona and a senior at Clovis West High, was told by the school district that he could not wear the stole to his graduation ceremony.

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Larry Valenzuela

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CalMatters/CatchLight Local

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In light of that, wearing tribal regalia at graduations “should not be a contentious issue,” Gali said. “Our young people deserve to walk with dignity and pride. To deny them that is a continued form of cultural extermination.”

Ethan Molina, a senior at Clovis West High School and a member of the Pascua Yaqui tribe, got district approval to wear an eagle feather on his mortarboard at graduation next month. The feather was a gift at a recent powwow.

But he did not get permission to wear a sash embroidered by his aunt for the occasion. The sash reads “Class of 2025,” sewn in burgundy, blue, orange and red, significant colors for the tribe.

“I was confused,” Molina said. “It’s not political or anything. I didn’t really get why they’d deny it.”

His mother complained to the district and they’re waiting to hear a response. Meanwhile, Molina is just eager to graduate.

“I’m happy I get to wear the eagle feather,” he said. “But I’m also pretty excited about leaving school.”

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.

Just inches away from where workers warm up handmade tortillas at Guisados in Pasadena, Pablomanuel Maldonado puts the finishing touches on different drinks before calling out to his customers.

“Provecho,” Maldonado, owner of coffee pop-up the Caffeinated Cart, says to each customer before quickly redirecting his attention to the next, treating each one like he’s known them for years.

Local taco chain Guisados partnered with the Caffeinated Cart to bring its coffee to the people of Pasadena in a space where Maldonado can chat up his customers and serve his Latino-inspired signature coffees. 

Nearly all of his drinks have names in Spanish, a nod to his Mexican roots. By far his best seller is the “Cereal Killer,” a cinnamon brown sugar latte with a cereal garnish, where customers can choose between Cocoa Puffs or Cap’N Crunch Crunch Berries. 

Pablomanuel Maldonado, owner of the Caffeinated Cart, prepares a Cereal Killer at Guisados in Pasadena, Calif. on Mar. 4, 2026.

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Isaac Ceja

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The LA Local

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Though he’s only been operating at this location for the past three weeks, small touches — like Virgen de Guadalupe candles, a new coffee blend from local roaster Picaresca and a shiny new drink menu on the wall — make his corner of the restaurant feel welcoming.

“For the first time, I don’t feel tired. I feel mentally at peace, and it’s like, ‘Damn, this is what I love doing,’ you know?” Maldonado told The LA Local. “I get excited to come here. I get excited to get out of bed.” 

Maldonado recently transitioned from working full-time at Bristol Farms during the week and doing coffee pop-ups on weekends to serving coffee full-time at Guisados.

The Caffeinated Cart began in 2020 when Maldonado started selling bottled lattes in his hometown of Compton before eventually popping up at local markets like Angel City Market and the Beach Flea. 

Only a couple of years after he started, Maldonado was selling out at the pop-ups.  Today, he has over 23,000 followers on Instagram.

Maldonado’s partnership with Guisados began in 2025 via an Instagram story when owner Armando De La Torre Jr. put out a call for coffee pop-ups at his Guisados location in Long Beach. 

A photo illustration of the Caffeinated Cart’s most popular drink the Cereal Killer, a cinnamon brown sugar latte with a cereal garnish, at Guisados in Pasadena, Calif. on Mar. 4, 2026.

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Isaac Ceja

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The LA Local

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After connecting with De La Torre, Maldonado began popping up outside the Long Beach location for six months. But Maldonado said permitting issues with the city’s Health Department forced him to stop. 

Nearly a year after their initial collaboration, De La Torre invited Maldonado to Pasadena to show off the space he had in mind for him, but the Caffeinated Cart owner had mixed emotions. 

Maldonado was concerned about going to Pasadena and leaving behind the community and regular customers he had in Long Beach, but he was excited by the idea of finally having a physical space, even if it wasn’t completely his own.

Pablomanuel Maldonado, owner of the Caffeinated Cart, hugs his former boss who visited him at his new coffee residency at Guisados in Pasadena, Calif. on Mar. 4, 2026.

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Isaac Ceja

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The LA Local

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“We’re in a world where… everybody gatekeeps and then everybody stops each other from growing, and coffee’s been so welcoming, man,” Maldonado said. “The community I’ve built around me has just been so welcoming, and a lot of people just truly do trust us.”

Leo Abularach, co-owner of Picaresca in Boyle Heights, has been a longtime supporter of the Caffeinated Cart. He told The LA Local that he loaned Maldonado over $3,000 worth of equipment to help him get started. Abularach even let him use his business delivery service, so Maldonado would no longer have to run to the store for things like extra milk.

“He has always been there for Picaresca. He is part of our family,” Abularach said of Maldonado. “He is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and I think his personality is one of the reasons why people love the Caffeinated Cart.”

Pablomanuel Maldonado, owner of the Caffeinated Cart, pours coffee beans into a grinder at Guisados in Pasadena, Calif. on Mar. 4, 2026.

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Isaac Ceja

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The LA Local

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Customers Adriana Acevedo and Eilene Gonzalez saw the Caffeinated Cart on TikTok. When they realized it was around the corner from their workplace, they decided to give it a try.

“It’s amazing. It tastes really good. Like, no notes. Amazing,” Acevedo said after finally trying the coffee in real life on a recent Wednesday morning. 

“Yeah, for first timers, now I think we’re going to be returners,” Gonzalez added with a laugh. 

Pablomanuel Maldonado, right, talks with customers Adriana Acevedo, left, and Eilene Gonzalez, centert, at the Caffeinated Cart inside of Guisados in Pasadena, Calif. on Mar. 4, 2026.

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Isaac Ceja

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The LA Local

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The two praised the welcoming service offered by Maldonado, and after Acevedo mentioned she loves caffeine, Maldonado even gave her an additional shot.

“I’m all about making it affordable. I don’t charge extra for alternative milks. You want extra shots? Bro, get extra shots. I’m not going to charge you extra,” Maldonado said. 

“We’re all for the people,” he said. “We want to make sure people can still come back and not have to feel like ‘Was the $7 coffee worth it?’”

Though it was only a Wednesday, customers kept trickling in, keeping him busy throughout his shift, and even Maldonado’s old boss from Bristol Farms, Dina Urquilla, came to support. 

Maldonado said he’s still saving to open up his own shop in the future, but for now, he says he looks forward to making coffee every day in his corner of Pasadena.

A view of some of the trinkets at the Caffeinated Cart inside of Guisados in Pasadena, Calif. on Mar. 4, 2026.

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Isaac Ceja

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The LA Local

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Warm temperatures are on tap again today as we head into a toasty weekend with temps set to reach the triple digits in desert communities.

L.A. County beaches will see daytime highs from 67 to 72 degrees. It'll be between 69 and 76 degrees along the Orange County coast. More inland areas like downtown L.A., Hollywood and Anaheim will see temperatures from 75 to 81 degrees.

Meanwhile, the valleys will see varying temperatures. Areas closer to the coast will see highs from 78 to 83 degrees, and further inland, temps will stay in the upper 80s, up to 89 degrees.

Meanwhile in Coachella Valley, temperatures will rise to 101 to 106 degrees.

Looking ahead to the weekend, the valleys will reach the 90s for Mother's Day, up to 100 degrees in the Antelope Valley too. Come Sunday, an Extreme Heat Warning kicks in for the Coachella Valley, where temperatures will stay in the low 100s, with up to 109 degrees possible. Make sure to stay hydrated!

Jessica Wang has experienced delay after delay for nearly two years as she tried to open Gu Grocery in Chinatown. Her father, a contractor, had told her it would take nine months.

Instead, she says, there have been issues with city permits, inspectors, inaccurate information, illness and wayward appliance installers which have pushed things back.

The community didn't take nearly as long. In two weeks, 134 donors contributed nearly $12,000 to keep Wang afloat. But money can't solve her problem — she still needs the city's approval to open the doors.

Wang signed the lease at the end of 2023, envisioning a Chinese-Taiwanese grocery store and community hub where seniors could use EBT to buy fresh tofu, where kids from nearby elementary schools could stop by after class, and where her mother, Peggy, could teach neighbors how to make their grandmother's pickles.

Now, more than two years into a five-year lease, and nearly out of money after paying for permits, buildout, and rent on a space she can't operate, Wang launched a GoFundMe campaign a few weeks ago. The response showed the community believes in Gu Grocery and wants to see it succeed. But she's still waiting for at least seven final inspections by the city before she can open.

The story of Gu

The name "Gu" carries layered meaning: the character 菇 means "mushroom" in Chinese, a traditional symbol of prosperity, while the sound "gu" also means "auntie" in Mandarin — honoring intergenerational caretakers. Wang's mission for the space is to provide a place to purchase Chinese-Taiwanese pantry staples and prepared foods, and to host community workshops.

The communal aspect is central to Wang's vision of social entrepreneurship, not solely focused on profit. In addition to workshops, Gu Grocery plans to accept EBT and offer senior discounts for those on fixed incomes.

"I wanted a space where I could share knowledge and share culture and also just learn from the community," Wang said.

Ultimately, she hopes to convert the store into a worker-owned co-op.

Wang grew up in the San Gabriel Valley and worked as a pastry chef at San Francisco's State Bird Provisions before a pre-diabetic diagnosis at age 29 prompted her return to L.A. She began volunteering with API Forward Movement, a local nonprofit focused on health equity and food access in AAPI communities, and saw firsthand the need during COVID food distributions at L.A. State Historic Park.

Chinatown had lost its last two full-service grocery stores in 2019. Last fall, the neighborhood lost another: Yue Wa Market, a small produce shop that had served residents for 18 years before rising rent and pandemic losses forced it to shut its doors. The closures hit especially hard in a neighborhood where, according to American Community Survey data, half of the residents are low-income and one in five are seniors 65 and older — many of whom rely on walking to shop.

Jessica Wang (center, in black) and her mother Peggy (left, in white and red) smile while serving customers at a farmer's market pop-up for Gu Grocery.

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Daniel Nguyen

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Courtesy Gu Grocery

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Permitting woes

Much of bringing Gu Grocery to reality has been made possible by support from Wang's friends and family. Her father, Willie Wang, serves as her general contractor. When plans were submitted to the city in March 2024, he told her the buildout would take nine months if everything went smoothly.

Instead, she’s experienced delays from all directions, from slow bureaucracy, to issues with contractors. A hood installation contractor rescheduled multiple times, she said, then doubled his price the day before a rescheduled appointment. Drywall contractors said their workers had been detained by ICE and never returned.

The process hasn't just taken time — it's been expensive. One inspector approved a makeup air unit for the kitchen hood system, she said, only to have a senior inspector overturn the decision and order a complete replacement at nearly $6,000. Her father paid out of pocket — even as he was recovering from March surgery to remove a cancerous lung growth.

"Who would have thought that something an inspector asked us to do would be completely overturned by another inspector?" Wang said. "That's just so wild."

LAist has reached out to the city's Department of Building Services for comment but has not heard back.

The financial toll

Wang estimates she's spent more than $200,000 so far — more than $100,000 on buildout and permits alone, plus a full year of rent on a space she can't operate, equipment, insurance and taxes.

She draws no income from Gu Grocery. To cover personal expenses, she teaches fermentation workshops through her other business, Picklepickle, though that work has been inconsistent lately. Her health insurance doubled this year. The GoFundMe money, she said, is a "rainy day fund" in case she needs it to pay future bills.

The financial strain has touched her entire family. Her mother, who received a small inheritance when Wang's grandparents died, got scammed late last year trying to grow that money to help with the store. Targeted through online ads, she was convinced by an "investment tutor" based in Taiwan to hand over cash to a stranger in a parking lot.

"I didn't realize this would become part of what it's like to have aging parents in the age of technology," Wang said. "But it's scary how they get targeted."

Black sesame noodles from Gu Grocery's popup menu. Wang uses black sesame for higher nutritional value and plans to offer the dish as one of the prepared foods when the store opens.

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Aunty J

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Courtesy Gu Grocery

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Rice balls with house pickles from a Gu Grocery pop-up. Wang has been teaching fermentation and pickling workshops for 15 years and plans to serve pickles alongside all meals when the store opens.

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Aunty J.

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Courtesy Gu Grocery

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Addressing Chinatown's needs

Once Gu Grocery opens, it won't operate as a full-service market — there won't be a meat counter. Instead, it will function like a corner store with a focus on healthy prepared foods: butter mochi, sesame noodles and daily congee.

"Something that Chinatown has never had was prepared food that is EBT eligible," Wang said.

In 2020, Wang surveyed seniors through API Forward Movement's Tai Chi fitness program to understand their shopping habits following the closure of local grocery stores. Many told her they now ride the bus to Super King on San Fernando Road in Glendale, nearly 5 miles away, for produce deals, or rely on family members to drive them to 99 Ranch in Alhambra. Some grow their own food in gardening plots, Wang said, "but they can't produce everything they need."

Willie Wang (left), Jessica Wang (center), and Peggy Wang (right) pose inside Gu Grocery. The signs display the store's values in both English and Chinese — Willie's reads "body health" and Peggy's reads "mushroom auntie," playing on the dual meaning of "gu."

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Daniel Nguyen

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Courtesy Gu Grocery

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The community response

When she launched her Go FundMe in mid-April, she was overwhelmed by the response. "I have a hard time asking for help," said Wang. "So actually receiving help, it's very moving."

The donors range from former pop-up customers and friends to a range of assorted well-wishers — a musician who had her food once at an event, fellow food business owners, farmer's market regulars and even her insurance agent.

"The generosity is beyond my expectations," Wang said. "Some of these people only had my food once. People are showing their support truly in a personal way and really believing in the vision."

The GoFundMe money helps Wang stay "afloat for now," but she's had to rethink her opening strategy. She won't be able to afford full inventory when she opens. Instead, she plans a phased opening: prepared foods only, served through a takeout window, then using revenue to slowly stock shelves with the retail items she originally envisioned.

The community raised more than $14,000 in three weeks. After nearly two years of delays, Wang is still waiting for permits. She hopes to open by Father's Day — her general contractor dad's birthday. But she's learned to expect the unexpected.

Many donors sent her direct messages saying simply: "We got this, Jess, we got you."