Gutting AmeriCorps weakens California’s response when the next emergency strikes

Update: On June 5, a judge partially sided with the states in a lawsuit seeking to save AmeriCorps from sudden cuts, and issued a preliminary injunction ordering the Trump administration to restore the cancelled grants in the states that sued while the case proceeds.

Last month, I hung up my yellow vest for the last time.

We were there after wildfires tore through Los Angeles communities, standing alongside survivors in shelters, donation centers, disaster recovery centers and scorched neighborhoods. We helped Californians take their first steps toward rebuilding.

And now, we’re gone.

After the federal government cut funding for AmeriCorps’ disaster relief programs, more than 60 of us in the California Emergency Response Corps were told our service was ending early. Some of my teammates were still in the field when the news came in. They had to pack up and leave while the work was still unfolding.

This is not just about a few disheartened young adults losing the opportunity to serve their community. It’s about what we lose as a state when we cut off the pipeline of people trained and ready to show up in times of crisis.

This derailment happened at a curious time. Our deployment to Los Angeles was the biggest operation in the California program’s history. Our teams helped more than 26,000 wildfire survivors navigate FEMA paperwork, replace lost IDs and find emergency housing.

We didn’t arrive with all the answers, but we came with compassion, training and a willingness to listen. One afternoon, I sat with an elderly couple as they showed me photos of their destroyed home. They weren’t asking for much — just someone to walk them through the maze of forms and requirements while they tried to make sense of their new reality.

Another day, I met a young man sitting outside a disaster recovery center because he was too nervous to go inside. I sat with him for a while as he recounted how he evacuated his elderly neighbors as the fire approached their neighborhood. The trauma he suffered was significant and it was clear he was struggling to process it. Thankfully, we were able to connect him with the wonderful people at the county department of mental health to get him the services he needed.

Moments like these don’t get much attention. But they matter.

As a former Marine, I’ve seen how critical it is to have trained, mission-ready people in the right place at the right time. California’s emergency corps gave me a new mission: helping communities prepare for, respond to and recover from disaster. This program provided critical, entry-level emergency management experience that I would not have otherwise received.

I thought this was the beginning of my career. For me (and so many others) it was supposed to be a first step, a launchpad into public service.

Instead, it’s been cut short.

The argument you may hear is that national service is too expensive, but that’s not the case with AmeriCorps. For modest stipends, people can serve their communities and gain valuable career experience for a fraction of what outsourcing those services would cost. Emergency response members provide support through fires, floods, pandemics and earthquakes, helping fill gaps no one else can or will.

We’re not waste, fraud or abuse. We’re vital components of the communities we serve.

At a time when wildfires, floods and climate-driven disasters are only becoming more frequent, we need competent and experienced disaster response professionals. They don’t magically appear. They have to get their start somewhere. Programs like this are how we grow the next generation of emergency responders, crisis managers and community resilience leaders.

Ending the corps program is not just shortsighted, it’s dangerous.

I’m proud of the work we did. I’m grateful to my teammates and mentors. And I’m heartbroken — not just for myself, but for the people we haven’t yet had the chance to help.

If you didn’t know who we were before, I hope you do now. We were the ones in yellow vests, and we were just getting started.