The real story behind Gavin Newsom's ‘Wonder Bread and mac and cheese' moment
California Gov. Gavin Newsom's story about "hustling" through a childhood of Wonder Bread and mac and cheese set off a social-media storm over the weekend.
Conservative commentators derided him as a privileged poseur. But the full context of his remarks - made on the basketball podcast All The Smoke - paints a more layered picture of the governor's early years, his mentors and his view of California's challenges today.
In the viral clip, Newsom recalled his mother, Tessa, "worked hard, grinding every single day … two, two and a half jobs," while raising him and his sister after a divorce.
"It was also about paying the bills, man," he said. "It was just, like, hustling. And so I was out there kind of raising myself."
Then came the line that launched a thousand tweets: "Sitting there with the Wonder Bread … macaroni and cheese."
The hosts, former NBA players Matt Barnes and Stephen Jackson, burst into laughter.
"Are you talking about me?" Jackson teased.
Critics pounced, noting that Newsom's father, William, was a lawyer and later a state appeals court judge with close ties to the billionaire Getty family.
But the full interview, and his long-documented biography, support both halves of his story - a mother who worked multiple jobs to make rent and a father whose wealth and connections reentered the picture later in Newsom's life.
In the podcast, Newsom himself nods to that evolution.
"In high school, I look up in the stands - my dad's back up there," he said. "He was bringing his friends. It just saved me … and it got me into college baseball."
Newsom has often described his upbringing as one of contrasts - "94123 to 94124," as he put it, referencing San Francisco ZIP codes that divide privilege from poverty, from the Marina District to the Bayview-Hunters Point neighborhood.
His dyslexia, he said, left him struggling in class until sports gave him structure and confidence.
"I couldn't really read or write," Newsom said during the podcast. "We had roommates all the time because (my mom) couldn't afford the rent … and we rented out the garage for 50 bucks a month so someone could store their car."
That mix of hardship and opportunity shaped his self-image - one that his critics now caricature. But it also highlights the themes Newsom returned to throughout the nearly two-hour podcast: class divides, race, community and California's own contradictions.
When the conversation turned to crime in Oakland, Newsom recalled tense community meetings during a wave of violence in 2023.
"One of the bishops goes, ‘After listening to everybody else, I just have two words,'" Newsom said. "‘Smith and Wesson.'"
That moment, he said, prompted him to send California Highway Patrol officers into the city to support local police - an intervention he credits with helping bring down homicide rates.
"It was about restoring a sense of well-being," he said. "You've got to meet the community where they are."
He also lamented Oakland's economic losses - its professional sports teams, its spirit.
"You can't legislate pride," Newsom said. "That's what's been missing for too long in Oakland. We've got to restore that."
Newsom's political career, he reminded the hosts, began not in elite circles but with a phone call from then–San Francisco Mayor Willie Brown.
"I was 25, running a little business, complaining in the newspaper about the mayor," he said. "Next thing I know, I'm appointed to the Parking and Traffic Commission - and he made me chair. I didn't even know what ‘chair' meant."
Brown became a mentor and ally for decades.
"He plucked me out," Newsom said. "He taught me: You're not here to make a point, you're here to make a difference."
The podcast, taped Oct. 25, roamed far beyond personal history.
Newsom spoke about policing, immigration, education and a nation he said he fears is "putting America in reverse."
He cited a new California law he signed last month banning masked federal agents after reports of ICE officers "jumping out of unmarked cars" in immigrant communities. It goes into effect in January.
"I read the Bill of Rights," he said. "The president was asked about habeas corpus the other day. He said, ‘Who's habeas?' This is America in 2025."
He defended his increasingly combative use of social media - where he's gained millions of followers - as a response to what he called "Democratic weakness masquerading as politeness."
And he credited sports for giving him the resilience that politics demands.
"Sports saved me," he said. "They gave me confidence, discipline and a sense of team."
If the "Wonder Bread" dust-up showed anything, it was the speed at which a stray anecdote can eclipse the substance around it.
The full interview touched on many of California's most pressing issues - from rising inequality to public safety and immigration - with Newsom defending his record and explaining how his personal experiences shaped his approach to governing.
"I had a mom who worked her tail off," he said. "I had a dad who came back into my life later. I had mentors like Willie Brown who gave me a shot. I'm not pretending to be something I'm not."
This article originally published at The real story behind Gavin Newsom's ‘Wonder Bread and mac and cheese' moment.
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