1,000 new 2025 California Laws now being enforced

California, ever the avant-garde of legislative theatrics! Starting January 1, 2025, prepare for a smorgasbord of new rules, ranging from the progressive to the peculiar. Cannabis cafés and expanded outdoor drinking?

A toast to your libations, but do mind the irony of laws encouraging indulgence while protecting your credit score from the ravages of medical debt. Even financial institutions aren’t safe from the guillotine of ‘no-fee’ indignation.

In the hallowed halls of education, lawmakers have decided that LGBTQ+ students deserve privacy (as well they should), Native American history deserves accuracy (a novel concept for history books), and people of color deserve the liberty of unbothered hairstyles. Progress wrapped in policy, with a dash of overdue decency.

Nearly 5,000 bills were birthed in the latest legislative session, though half perished in obscurity without so much as a debate. Of the 1,200 that survived, Gov. Gavin Newsom vetoed a tidy 200, like a chef trimming fat from an already overwhelming feast. And so, what remains: a mélange of laws that range from the vital to the vexing, with just enough intrigue to keep Californians on their toes. Bureaucracy, darling, is nothing if not dramatic.

New laws in effect Jan. 1

• Cannabis cafes and entertainment zones
• Bosses can’t require attendance at anti-union meetings
• Schools can’t require parental notification of child’s gender preference
• Accurate Native American history
• Teaching about desegregation in California
• Protecting against hair discrimination
• Protection for child content creators
• Expanded alcohol education in schools
• More transparency for residential treatment centers for children
• Tenants facing evictions will have more time to fight to keep their homes
• Fines blocked for declined ATM withdrawals
• Most medical debt can’t hurt your credit score anymore
• Voter ID ban puts conservative cities at odds with state
• Car buyers have fewer protections
• California stiffened penalties for theft — and more changes are coming
• Penalties increased for attacks on emergency workers

Ah, the Cannabis Cafe beckons

The intoxicating allure of the urban promenade! In a bold bid to revive city centers still languishing from the malaise of the COVID-19 era, California unveils its latest temptations: cannabis cafés and boozy boulevards. One can almost hear the clinking of glasses and the murmur of delighted vices in the making.

Senate Bill 969, the brainchild of state Sen. Scott Weiner, invites local governments to create ‘entertainment zones,’ where revelers may roam the streets with drinks in hand, as though life were an eternal carnival. The California Alcohol Policy Alliance, ever the Cassandra at the feast, warns that this bacchanalia might lead to more drunk drivers and sorrowful statistics. But who among us has ever listened to the voice of caution when champagne is calling?

Then there’s AB 1775, which legalizes cannabis cafés reminiscent of Amsterdam’s smoky charm. At long last, one can pair a well-rolled joint with an artisanal sandwich or a frothy cappuccino, perhaps while a jazz trio croons in the background. Of course, the American Heart and Lung Association clutched its collective pearls, necessitating protections against secondhand smoke for workers. A small price to pay for the ambiance of curated decadence.

Assemblymember Matt Haney, waxing poetic, declared: ‘Lots of people want to enjoy legal cannabis in the company of others.’ Indeed, Mr. Haney, and if those others happen to be a slice of avocado toast and an indie folk band, so much the better. California, as ever, remains the harbinger of tomorrow’s indulgences today.

Meet the new boss, not like the old boss

California, ever the patron saint of the worker’s plight, has declared war on the tyranny of boardroom sermons and managerial homilies. With Senate Bill 399, the state has effectively banned employers from dragging their beleaguered staff into mandatory meetings extolling the virtues of a political agenda or the evils of unions—or worse, pontificating on the intersection of religion and profit margins. Truly, there is nothing more odious than a boss attempting to sermonize between PowerPoints.

Proponents of this law, with the California Labor Federation at the helm, argue that such forced gatherings are nothing short of thinly veiled intimidation, designed to quash the spirit of unionization before it even takes root. Business groups, predictably clutching their pearls and brandishing the First Amendment like a shield, warn of dire consequences for free speech and economic dialogue. Fear not, however, for political operatives and proselytizers remain free to spout their truths to their similarly employed acolytes.

But the drama does not end there, for California’s workplace reforms continue to roll out like acts in a morality play. Witness the modest rise in the minimum wage, from $16 to $16.50—an increase too slight to invite revolution but sufficient to provoke muttering in executive suites. Voters recently quashed a more ambitious leap to $18, opting instead for the slow creep of inflation-linked adjustments. One can almost hear Dickens’ ghost remarking, ‘A half dollar more, sir? For a loaf of bread, perhaps?’

And let us not overlook the newfound flexibility in the use of time off. Under AB 2123, workers can no longer be coerced into exhausting vacation days before accessing paid family leave—a small triumph for those who might like a few holiday hours left to spend on something other than convalescence. Meanwhile, AB 2499 elevates sick days to a nobler purpose: jury duty. Because nothing says ‘recovery’ like a day deliberating over petty theft or tax fraud.

California’s labor laws, like its sunsets, remain a spectacle: vivid, dramatic, and occasionally bewildering. One can only imagine what new workplace epiphanies await in 2026.

Getting schooled in 2025

California, ever the harbinger of cultural skirmishes disguised as legislative decrees, has unfurled the SAFETY Act, a proclamation that schools are no longer the battleground for parental notifications about gender identity. Assembly Bill 1955, signed with a flourish by Gov. Gavin Newsom, bars school boards from mandating that teachers act as informants to parents about a child’s gender preferences. In essence, the legislation tells meddling school boards: ‘Not on our watch, darling.’

The SAFETY Act goes further, shielding educators from retribution should they decline to participate in such clandestine tattling. It also extends a supportive hand—likely manicured with inclusivity—to LGBTQ+ students in junior high and high schools, recognizing that adolescence is already a theater of existential chaos without adding identity politics to the script.

Assemblymember Chris Ward, the bill’s San Diego-based champion, condemned the ‘politically motivated attacks’ targeting transgender and nonbinary youth, likening such policies to a forced outing party no one asked to attend. With this act, the state affirms that gender identity discussions are best reserved for private family dynamics—preferably without the school board’s unsolicited editorializing.

Naturally, there is opposition, with Assemblymember Bill Essayli and other critics forecasting a showdown in the courts, where gavel-wielding arbiters of justice will untangle this knot of privacy, parental rights, and public policy. One imagines the arguments unfolding with the gravity of a Shakespearean trial, though less eloquent and with more legal jargon.

California, never content to follow the crowd, remains a stage for the audacious and the contentious, ensuring that even its education policies are draped in drama and debate. The SAFETY Act may spark lawsuits, but for now, it is a banner of defiance unfurled against those who would turn classrooms into confessionals.

Tenants have rights, too

A shadow of misfortune fell upon tenant advocates this autumn as California voters declined to broaden the power of cities to curtail rent increases. Yet, amid the gloom, a glimmer of hope emerges: a new law, poised to take effect on the first of January, promises a moment of reprieve for renters teetering on the precipice of eviction.

This modest yet meaningful decree grants tenants twice the grace—ten days, rather than five business days—to respond to an eviction notice. What might appear to the uninitiated as a trifling procedural adjustment could, in truth, be the thread by which countless lives are tethered to their homes. Legal advocates, whose battles often go unsung, herald this as a salve for those besieged by housing insecurity.

For tenants, the stakes of silence are ruinous. To neglect a timely response is to forfeit the game before the first move, leaving them ensnared in a labyrinth of penalties and tarnished records. Such marks of disgrace darken their prospects, rendering the quest for future shelter an odyssey of near-impossible odds. Even those with just claims—a landlord’s breach of duty to repair or a rent hike that flouts the law—can see their defenses dissolve in the cruel light of procedural default. Researchers whisper grimly that four in ten California tenants succumb to this ignoble fate.

“Five days,” lamented Lorraine López, a senior attorney at the Western Center on Law and Poverty, “has never sufficed for tenants to summon aid, unravel the cryptic legalese of a complaint, identify their defenses, prepare their papers, and present themselves at court.” Her words, delivered to CalMatters this past autumn, resonate like the toll of a distant bell.

The law, penned by Assemblymember Ash Kalra of San Jose, extends its hand not only to tenants but also to landlords—those oft-portrayed antagonists of such tales. To assuage their concerns, the legislation imposes limits on the time tenant attorneys may wield certain motions to contest landlords’ filings. This compromise quelled the ire of the formidable California Apartment Association, which chose neutrality over opposition as legislators debated the measure. Yet, not all property owners were placated; some local groups clung to their grievances like a miser to his coin.

Daniel Bornstein, an attorney for landlords, encapsulated their frustrations succinctly: “The longer these matters linger, the costlier they become, and the greater the loss of rent.” And so, the pendulum swings—between the tenant’s plea for sanctuary and the landlord’s lament for expediency—a delicate balance in the ceaseless theatre of housing in California.

Some help for ATM penalty fees

In the gilded realm of modern finance, where even the simplest transactions often come with hidden snares, a rare reprieve has emerged for Californians teetering on the edge of fiscal despair. Thanks to a new law, those who attempt to withdraw funds only to discover their coffers insufficient shall no longer be met with the insult of a penalty atop their injury.

This decree, a balm for the beleaguered, targets the pernicious fees levied when withdrawals are declined—be it at the unfeeling maw of an ATM or through other instantaneous denials wrought by insufficient funds.

Assembly Bill 2017, shepherded into existence by the tireless efforts of consumer advocates, is a testament to the virtues of human empathy within the cold calculus of commerce. Signed into law by Governor Gavin Newsom this past September, the measure stands as a shield for the financially vulnerable against the scourge of what these advocates rightly dub “junk fees.” The California Low-Income Consumer Coalition and the East Bay Community Law Center, its chief proponents, have proclaimed victory for the common citizen, protecting them from tumbling further into the abyss of poverty.

Yet this is but one chapter in the broader narrative of reform. In tandem with this triumph, another piece of legislation ascends the stage: Senate Bill 1075, which curtails credit union overdraft fees, capping them at $14 unless a more benevolent federal standard emerges. This provision, however, will not grace the public until 2026—an all-too-familiar delay in the theatre of legislative promise.

And let us not overlook Assembly Bill 2863, a law designed to liberate consumers from the labyrinth of subscription services. It demands that companies seek explicit consent before renewing subscriptions or extending free trials into paid obligations. Slated to take effect this July, it strikes at the heart of one of capitalism’s most insidious traps, restoring agency to the hapless consumer.

Thus, in this rare alignment of legislation and compassion, Californians may glimpse a flicker of justice—a fleeting reminder that, even in an age of relentless profiteering, the wheels of reform, though slow, do occasionally turn in their favor.

Medical debt need not affect credit scores

In the labyrinthine world of financial burdens, where every misstep seems destined to echo through one’s future, a rare beacon of mercy has arisen. A new California law now forbids health providers and debt collectors from reporting medical debts to credit agencies, ensuring that the scars of illness no longer mar the pristine visage of one’s credit report.

Though this law does not erase the specter of unpaid bills, it grants a measure of solace to the beleaguered patient. No longer need a hospital stay or an urgent-care visit haunt their financial standing, casting shadows on their ability to secure a home, a car, or even a livelihood. For in the realm of credit scores—those fickle arbiters of modern worth—every blemish exacts a toll, driving up interest rates and erecting barriers to opportunity.

While the triumvirate of credit bureaus—TransUnion, Equifax, and Experian—ceased reporting medical debts under $500 in 2023, the harsh truth remains that most medical debts far exceed this modest threshold. The national average, a sobering $3,100, tells the tale of a society where the price of health is measured in crushing balances. In California alone, nearly four in ten residents shoulder medical debt, a figure that rises to over half among the low-income, as revealed by the California Health Care Foundation.

But, as in all things, there is a caveat. The law’s shield extends only to debts owed directly to medical providers or collection agencies. Those who rely on the ill-fated convenience of medical or general credit cards find themselves beyond its protection, their debts still bound to the capricious judgment of the credit bureaus.

Thus, while this law may not banish the specter of medical debt entirely, it offers a reprieve, a moment of grace in a world all too eager to punish the vulnerable for the audacity of falling ill. It is a small victory, yet one that hints at the possibility of a more just society—one in which the ailments of the body do not leave permanent wounds upon the soul.

Going native historically

But supporters of a new law that goes into effect on Jan. 1 say that there are still grave concerns that the history of California Native Americans — including enslavement, starvation, illness and violence — is still misleading or completely absent from the curriculum.

AB 1821, authored by Assemblymember James Ramos, D-San Bernardino, aims to address this. When California next updates its history-social science curriculum — on or after Jan. 1 —  it asks that the Instruction Quality Commission consult with California tribes to develop a curriculum including the treatment and perspectives of Native Americans during the Spanish colonization and the Gold Rush eras.

“The mission era of Spanish occupation was one of the most devastating and sensitive periods in the history of California’s native peoples and the lasting impact of that period is lost in the current curriculum,” according to a statement from the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians, one of the supporters of the legislation.

Desegregate already

Ah, my dear friend, what a splendid spectacle of justice and progress is unfurling before our eyes! Picture, if you will, the gilded chambers of history opening their doors to let in the sunlight of truth—this is precisely what this new law aims to achieve. It beckons the state to revisit and refine the chronicles of its past, ensuring that the luminous tale of Mendez v. Westminster is given its rightful place upon the pedestal of remembrance.

It was in 1945, amidst the orchards and orange blossoms of California, that a grave injustice was challenged. Mexican-American parents, armed not with swords but with the unyielding conviction of love for their children, took up arms against the dark specter of segregation. Their triumph illuminated the path toward equality, inspiring California to become the vanguard in abolishing the blight of segregation from its public schools. Such a victory was not merely a legal decree but a proclamation of humanity’s better instincts—a prelude, if you will, to the symphonic crescendo of Brown v. Board of Education.

The story of Mendez is no mere anecdote; it is a parable of unity, a testament to the power of inter-ethnic solidarity. How fitting that it should now be etched more prominently into the annals of education, woven into the tapestry of history lessons for our youth. The Westminster School District, with commendable grace, lends its voice to ensure that this chapter is not merely remembered but celebrated—a beacon to guide future generations toward justice and fellowship.

And so, let us applaud this endeavor, for it is not merely a revision of curriculum but an act of restoration—a gesture of reverence for those who dared to dream of a brighter, fairer world. Let the past speak with eloquence to the present, and may its lessons resound through the ages, as only truth, when polished to its finest luster, can do.

Hair today, hair tomorrow

how the law seeks to untangle the knotted threads of prejudice, weaving instead a tapestry of dignity and equality! Assembly Bill 1815 strides boldly forward, casting its light upon an insidious form of discrimination—one that has long lurked in the shadows of cultural ignorance and petty bias. Here, at last, is legislation that endeavors to liberate not just the individual, but the expression of their very identity.

Though the CROWN Act already guards against such affronts in many realms, this new provision extends the shield of justice into the arenas of amateur and club sports, where the echoes of outdated prejudice have lingered too long. With elegant precision, the bill revises the language of the California Code, recognizing that the markers of identity are not merely “historical” but vibrantly cultural—a nuanced yet profound shift in understanding.

The American Civil Liberties Union, ever the champion of liberty’s cause, aptly describes this effort as a remedy for a pernicious slight often inflicted upon our youth. Bias against natural textures and protective hairstyles—those braids, locks, and twists that speak volumes of heritage and pride—is a quiet violence, a theft of self-expression. By addressing this injustice, the law casts off the remnants of archaic prejudice and asserts that the playing fields of sport, like the wider stage of life, must be arenas of equality and respect.

Let us commend this noble effort! For in protecting the strands of identity, we uphold the strands of humanity itself, recognizing that beauty lies not in conformity but in the dazzling diversity of the human spirit. Such legislation is no mere legalese; it is an ode to individuality and a testament to the unyielding march of progress.

Child content creation must be fair

Ah, how fitting that the gilded age of digital fame should now be tempered with the golden virtues of justice and foresight! In a world where even the youngest among us are drawn into the luminous whirl of online creation, Governor Newsom has wielded the pen with a deft and benevolent hand, signing into law measures that cradle the dreams of child creators in the arms of protection.

Senate Bill 764 and Assembly Bill 1880—twin sentinels of equity—rise to expand the mantle of safeguarding once reserved for the child performers of stage and screen. Now, they extend their reach into the boundless ether of the digital sphere, where vloggers, podcasters, influencers, and streamers weave their bright tapestries of creativity. These laws decree, with both wisdom and grace, that at least 15% of the earnings accrued by these youthful artisans shall be held in trust, a shimmering dowry for the adults they are yet to become.

It is a poetic justice, is it not, that the fruits of a child’s labor, so often plucked by others, should now be preserved for the very hands that sowed them? These laws stand as a testament to the recognition that even amidst the intoxicating allure of digital stardom, there lies a duty to nurture and protect. They remind us that innocence and ambition need not be at odds, and that the light of youth should be neither exploited nor extinguished.

Let us celebrate these measures, for they do not merely regulate—they ennoble. They enshrine in law a simple yet profound truth: that the joy of creation should be met with the security of preservation. Thus, the stage is set for a future where young creators may flourish, unencumbered by the shadows of exploitation, and bask in the light of their own hard-won legacies.

Expanded acohol education for the kiddos

California public school students will get additional coursework on the harms of alcohol in 2025, thanks to a new law from a former lawmaker whose drunken driving arrest inspired her legislation.

In September, Gov. Gavin Newsom signed Assembly Bill 2865 by former Los Angeles Democratic Assemblymember Wendy Carrillo, whose DUI last year helped derail her political career.

California schools are already required to provide instruction about alcohol, narcotics and other dangerous drugs. This bill would require that schools also provide instruction about the short- and long-term harms of excessive drinking — including alcohol’s link to chronic diseases, mental health problems and deaths.

Under the new law, school boards can decide which grades receive the new instruction. They can ask the state for reimbursements for the costs of instruction, training and updates to instructional materials, said Nicholas Filipas, a spokesperson for the California Department of Education.

Best of the rest…

Voter ID Ban Sparks Clash Between Conservative Cities and the State

California, ever the stage for political theatrics, finds itself embroiled in yet another tempest. This time, it is voter identification laws—the perennial darling of conservative agendas—that have ignited the latest battle. Propelled into prominence by the fervent proclamations of election fraud from President-elect Donald Trump, voter ID requirements now serve as the banner under which local and state governments skirmish.

A new state law, which took effect on the first day of the year, forbids municipalities from demanding that voters present identification at the polls. Yet, the city of Huntington Beach, brimming with defiance, has chosen to rebel against this directive, becoming the unlikely protagonist in a tale of democracy’s complexities.

For Car Buyers, 2025 Brings Diminished Protections

For Californians with a penchant for secondhand vehicles—or, dare we say, clunkers—the year 2025 heralds a rather disheartening chapter. The state Supreme Court has clipped the wings of warranty protections for used cars, leaving consumers adrift amid the already murky waters of lemon law regulations. Lawmakers have pledged to revisit these rules, yet until they do, buyers must navigate this terrain with diminished safeguards, their faith placed precariously in the promises of sellers.

California Stiffens Penalties for Theft Amid Rising Concerns

The specter of retail theft has long loomed over California, and now, the state has unveiled new laws to confront this menace with renewed vigor. Beginning January 1, harsher measures have been introduced to streamline prosecutions for those accused of pilfering from shops. Not content with this alone, voters have also passed Proposition 36, tightening the reins on sentences for theft and drug offenses. Thus, the pendulum swings yet again in the eternal debate over justice and severity.

Protections for Emergency Workers Take Center Stage

In a world increasingly fraught with discord, even those tasked with saving lives have found themselves under siege. A new law imposes stricter penalties on those who assault emergency room workers, addressing a disturbing rise in such attacks. Yet, not all are content with this path; progressive voices and prison-reform advocates warn of the potential consequences, their protests mingling with the cries of justice. And so, California’s legal landscape shifts once more, a reflection of the times and tensions that define it.