By now, many of you have probably read or heard about the recent exposé revealing a secretive society in which the wealthy and the famous hunt poor people for sport. I more than understand fans being concerned about my reported involvement when they’re seeing bizarre headlines and posts about panels where we allow the poor person to plead for their life and the dinners in which an unhoused man is mockingly honored as “the king of the hunt” when we put a construction paper crown on his head and feed him empty banana peels and crusts of bread.
In other words, my critics are missing the nuance of my membership in the wealthy people hunting poor people for sport club.
To be clear, I have only been to three or four hunting poor people for sport conferences. Three. Or four. That’s not quite a dedicated membership to a secret society, is it? Nor have I ever met the billionaire known as the Founder of the Hunt. I have never spoken with him on the phone or with his representatives, other than to ask where the hunt will be held this year, what weapons will be considered fair game, and who needs to survive seventy-two hours in the forest to have all their debts cleared.
I’m not saying this out of ego, but it’s important to remember that many high-profile people need to ask these questions before attending an event like this.
Also, I want to reaffirm that the billionaire Founder of the Hunt has politics that are the complete opposite of mine. You can paint me as some right-wing lunatic if you want, but I know in my heart the good I’ve done for those who haven’t been as lucky as me. Okay? I support LGBTQ+ rights. I support a woman’s right to choose. I even do a land acknowledgment before they open the man’s thirty-four-by-twenty-three-inch cage to let him loose with a head start of ten seconds. Whatever you think being a member of this club entails, I strongly believe I wouldn’t be disguising bear traps with leaves and setting up a speaker that plays the sound of a distressed woman begging for help if we had politicians in office who uplifted those less fortunate. So, please don’t paint me with a broad brush when I’m out there doing the work.
At the hunts I’ve been to, there were a wide variety of hunters, with a wide variety of hunting opinions—some I agreed with, some I didn’t. I can’t speak for every person on the list, especially when I was only with a small subset of them when we crawled through dense grass in order to slice an unsuspecting hobo’s Achilles tendon. My experience was not of a single ideological gathering. Rather, we were able to have important conversations about our beliefs. If the victim dies fast, was it a test of speed and accuracy? Or was it more the sign of a skilled hunter if the hopeless target suffers as long as possible, no matter how many fingers remain and how much blood is lost?
I’ve had long, detailed debates with members of different political persuasions on whether we should eat the man we caught in a net and allowed to get so dehydrated that he hallucinated us as demons when we came to put him down. Those aren’t the types of discussions you’re likely to have in public, especially when so much of the media is ready to pounce on celebrities for stepping out of line. But how can we come together as a country, or even as a world, when we’re afraid to share our thoughts on the easy kill of a shotgun versus the clean kill of a sniper rifle? What does it say about the current cultural climate that two sides can’t find common ground on how long to starve the dogs before letting them loose on a man who’s hoping his wife and children won’t be visited by the loan sharks he owed money to?
Over the last couple of years, I’ve been focused on making a positive impact on how the future unfolds, especially in tech, AI, and which areas of the body outside the neck can cause you to bleed out with the right shot. Part of that work means forming relationships with all kinds of hunters and trying to understand their strategies for making the man lose all hope when he realizes his stash of nuts and berries in the forest has been poisoned. Sometimes I try to get them to understand mine, which is pretending I’m there to help the victim escape and then, once his guard is down, claiming that sweet trophy for myself.
So, yes, I do respect that many of you have misgivings about me being in the wealthy people hunting poor people for sport club. But I also know that it’s productive to sometimes engage with those we oppose and to remind ourselves that we all want the same thing at the end of the day: To see the light leave the eyes of a living, breathing, feeling person who isn’t famous or wealthy enough to help my career.
