Column: Wendy Carrillo explains why she’s running against her former ally, Kevin de León
The sun began to bake us the moment we stepped out of Wendy Carrillo’s home in Boyle Heights last Saturday. But the scorching morning rays were the least of her annoyances.
The Eastside Assembly member had spent the last half-hour explaining to me why she was running for Kevin de León’s City Council seat.
“Mayor Karen Bass has an incredible challenge,” the El Sereno resident said as she closed the gate behind us, a loquat tree offering temporary shade. “And she currently doesn’t have a partner in [District] 14. It’s a challenge when you have someone in office that folks don’t want to associate with.”
De León, of course, turned into a political pariah after a secretly recorded conversation released last fall featured him, along with then-L.A. County Federation of Labor head Ron Herrera and then-Councilmembers Nury Martinez and Gil Cedillo, trashing rivals with racist and nasty words. He has ignored demands from community members and President Biden to resign, recently survived a fourth recall attempt and keeps taunting his haters with slickly edited Instagram reels of himself gallivanting around Council District 14 as if nothing ever happened.
The racist comments on a recording that rocked Los Angeles City Hall ensnared Councilman Kevin de León in controversy. The tape also revealed an undercurrent of ambition and grievance in his political career.
Carrillo, a former De León ally, had no ambitions to run until her staffers began to hear from constituents complaining that the council member’s office wasn’t returning their calls for city services. Carrillo’s team forwarded those complaints to his team. Silence.
“It wasn’t always like that,” said the 42-year-old, as we reached Avenida Cesar Chavez. “Before, we worked together. There’s a different political dynamic now.”
Her frown turned into a scowl at the scene before us.
Cracks and bumps made the sidewalk look like a motorbike track. Tree limbs in need of a trimming hung perilously over buildings. Graffiti was everywhere.
“It’s simple things that make life easier,” Carrillo explained, as she greeted shopkeepers in Spanish. “Lights that work. Potholes that get filled. A caretaker that actually cares about their responsibility to serve the community as an elected official.”
It was so hot that I suggested we walk on the side of Avenida Cesar Chavez that had shade, but she was on a roll.
“The majority of these buildings aren’t owned by the people who run the businesses,” she continued, decrying the gentrification that has clawed its way into Boyle Heights over the last decade under De León and his predecessor, Jose Huizar. Just as she said that, we passed by a giant showroom that now stood gutted.
She shook her head. “It was a cowboy store. Who knows what it’s going to be now?”
Her candidacy, which she will officially announce Thursday, makes her one of five people who have already declared their intentions to run against De León, even though the primary isn’t until March. The list includes former Councilmember Nick Pacheco and current Assemblymember Miguel Santiago (D-Los Angeles), and is expected to grow because opponents sense a vulnerable incumbent.
I’m not counting out De León, an obstinate politico who hasn’t yet announced a reelection bid but isn’t likely to go gentle into that good night. But if anyone can take down De León, it’s Carrillo, who’s so Eastside that her campaign colors are red and gold in honor of her alma mater, Roosevelt High.
As a freshman, the native of El Salvador was one of tens of thousands of students across California who walked out of class in the fall of 1994 to protest Proposition 187, the ballot initiative that sought to make life miserable for immigrants in the country illegally. For nearly a decade, Carrillo hosted a public affairs radio show on Power 106 that highlighted community activists across Southern California.
She worked for Huizar and has served in the Assembly since 2017. One of her proudest accomplishments in Sacramento, she said, was authoring a bill that created a compensation fund for hundreds of Latinas sterilized without their permission at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center in the 1960s and 1970s.
“That work was started by Gloria Molina,” said Carrillo, referring to the legendary Eastside política who first gained mainstream attention in the 1970s when she and other Chicanas filed an unsuccessful lawsuit on behalf of the sterilized women. “Why did it take until now to try and finish it? That’s what happens when communities get neglected for so long.”
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Carrillo has already secured the endorsements of Assembly Speaker Anthony Rendon and former Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa.
“She’s not a soulless political animal obsessed with careerism, speaking in pithy aphorisms, and participating in symbolic ribbon-cutting ceremonies,” Rendon said, in a dig at De León. “She’s singularly courageous.”
Villaraigosa described her as having “the heart of a lion.”
“In many ways, she reminds me of Gloria — she’s tough on the outside but leads on the inside for her constituents,” he said.
Carrillo had told only a few allies about her plans when we did our Saturday walk-and-talk. When she ran into Brenda Martinez, a member of the Boyle Heights Neighborhood Council, she would only say with a knowing grin, “There’s a big announcement coming soon.”
Martinez stayed silent for a second, then embraced Carrillo and clapped.
“She’s from here and understands the pros and cons of being a resident in Boyle Heights,” Martinez said when I asked why her reaction was so joyous. “And not just Boyle Heights, but the whole district. It’s a pot of mixtures ...” she continued, then stopped, tongue-tied.
“I don’t know. I’m just excited!”
The two bid each other farewell, then Carrillo and I made our way to “El Corrido de Boyle Heights,” a massive mural painted in 1983 long used for album art and book covers to represent the Eastside at its best. The elements had faded its once-bright colors. Even worse was the mural’s bottom half, where graffiti lay over older graffiti and an entire section was painted over with gray paint, which bore even more graffiti.
“My dad said that the moment you see the desecration of public art, it’s the beginning of the end of the neighborhood,” Carrillo said. “All the murals on the Eastside used to be covered with protective coating. If they got defaced, you could power-wash the graffiti off, and the mural below remains protected. I know there’s funds for that, because I worked on the issue when I was a district staffer here.”
She stayed silent.
“When the council member’s objective to be in office was to become mayor, taking care of murals is not a priority.”
We walked back to her home. She bought it in 2015 as a family gathering place, and her sister lives in a back house. It stands blocks away from Sheridan Street Elementary, where Carrillo attended school through fourth grade until her parents move to City Terrace.
“I personally get mad to see this,” she said, pointing to a planter filled with trash and no garbage can in sight. “Can you imagine, Gustavo? This is just a couple of streets we’ve walked. It’s not even about Kevin. It’s about respecting this community.”
Carrillo greeted her father, who was gardening. She plans to continue her work in Sacramento while campaigning for the council seat back home.
If she wins, Carrillo will be the first woman to represent the Eastside on the City Council since Molina’s historic victory 37 years ago, and the first person of Central American descent ever to serve.
“I don’t need a poll to tell me about the community needs,” she said, looking at her family’s loquat tree. Its fruit was a few weeks away from ripening. “I’ve lived it. I live it now.”
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