California’s political arena just got a whole lot messier with gubernatorial hopeful Katie Porter under fire from a deeply personal source—her ex-husband, Matthew Hoffman, who’s calling her out as unfit to lead.
According to the New York Post, as Porter campaigns to succeed term-limited Gov. Gavin Newsom, Hoffman has unleashed a barrage of criticism, backed by video evidence and personal accounts, painting her as a volatile figure with a temper that could derail her bid for the state’s top job.
The story starts over a decade ago with a bitter divorce in 2013, where Porter and Hoffman traded accusations of abuse, eventually settling with co-parenting arrangements for their three children—two sons and a daughter—who primarily live with Porter in Southern California.
Hoffman, now a compliance specialist in Portland, Oregon, admits the divorce was “awful” and still stings, despite having moved on with a new partner, while struggling to see his kids in person due to the distance.
During their marriage, Hoffman alleges Porter’s behavior was far from gubernatorial, claiming she berated him with insults like calling him incompetent and even banning him from owning a cell phone, deeming him incapable of using it.
More disturbingly, Hoffman’s divorce filings recount incidents like Porter dumping hot mashed potatoes on his head in 2006 over a cooking disagreement and shattering a glass coffee pot in 2012 out of frustration over a messy house—episodes that paint a picture of unchecked rage.
Fast forward to Porter’s political career, and that temper seems to follow her, with video evidence from a 2021 Zoom call showing her snapping at a female staffer with a profanity-laced outburst to get out of her frame.
More recently, a hot mic caught Porter barking the same crude directive at another staff member, reinforcing Hoffman’s warning that “the horrible things that she says [about others] … those aren’t fabrications” (Matthew Hoffman).
Then there’s the on-air clash with CBS journalist Julie Watts, where Porter nearly walked out after bristling at a question about winning over Trump supporters, labeling the reporter unnecessarily argumentative—a moment Hoffman called a missed opportunity to show leadership.
Hoffman argues that Porter’s inability to handle even a “softball question” (Matthew Hoffman) reflects a deeper flaw: an unwillingness to listen to differing views or seek common ground, a critical skill for any governor.
Her political setbacks add fuel to the fire, like her third-place finish in the California Senate primary behind Adam Schiff and Steve Garvey, a loss she controversially blamed on a “rigged” system before walking back the claim. Hoffman disputes that narrative, insisting it’s just politics as usual, and points to her rocky relationships with prominent Democrats like Nancy Pelosi as evidence of her divisive nature.
Porter’s campaign for governor pushes a message of “hope” and “grit,” but her past portrayal as a victim of domestic violence during her 2018 congressional run—emphasizing her single-mom status—feels hollow to critics when paired with Hoffman’s allegations.
While Porter’s spokesperson claims the ex-couple maintains a “positive and productive relationship” as co-parents, Hoffman’s rare interactions with her suggest otherwise, often limited to when she needs something related to the kids.
Ultimately, as California voters weigh their options ahead of the 2026 primary, Hoffman’s critique raises a pointed question: Can someone who struggles to bridge divides or control their temper steer a state as complex as this one, or is Porter’s candidacy more about personal ambition than public service?
