EMERGENCY PODS: The Hate Mail, The Death Threats, And The Inappropriate Sexual Comments That I Have Received Aren’t Just Disturbing, They’re Unacceptable Regardless Of…
Regardless of your opinion. Regardless of my voice, my identity, or the topic of discussion. Regardless of whether you agreed with me or found yourself on the opposite side of the ideological spectrum. The hate mail, the death threats, and the wildly inappropriate sexual comments I’ve received are not just disturbing—they’re utterly and unequivocally unacceptable.
I started “Emergency Pods” with the simple idea of using my voice to speak on urgent social, political, and cultural issues in real time. The goal was to create a space where raw, unfiltered reactions to breaking news and complex conversations could happen, often without the polish or delay of scripted shows. It was meant to be a tool of connection and immediacy—a way to say, “This matters. Let’s talk about it now.”
But what I didn’t expect—or perhaps naively hoped would not happen—was the flood of violent vitriol, much of it deeply personal and chillingly specific. A recent episode discussing reproductive rights resulted in my inbox being filled with emails threatening my life and safety. Some of them described in graphic detail what should happen to me for daring to speak, for existing, for having an opinion. I’ve been told I should be silenced, brutalized, or “taught a lesson.” I’ve been called every slur you can imagine, my appearance dissected, my integrity questioned, my humanity erased.
And then there’s the other kind of hate—the kind disguised as lust, objectification, and control. Comments that sexualize my voice, that critique the way I speak as though my worth is measured in how palatable I am to male listeners. I’ve been propositioned, degraded, and fantasized about in ways that make it impossible to feel safe when I press “record.” Let’s be clear: this isn’t a compliment. It’s harassment.
We are so used to saying “don’t feed the trolls” that we forget those trolls are real people sending real messages that can have a lasting emotional and psychological impact. We’re told to “just ignore it,” as if ignoring threats makes them disappear. As if silence is an acceptable trade-off for safety. As if speaking publicly—especially as a woman, a person of color, a member of the LGBTQ+ community—means you should expect abuse as part of the package.
No one should expect this. No one should have to normalize trauma in order to speak publicly.
There’s also a dangerous inconsistency in how seriously these threats are taken. If a man received death threats after sharing political commentary, the legal system and media might react swiftly. But for many of us, these attacks are brushed off as just “online negativity.” But there’s nothing virtual about the fear of being followed, doxxed, or harmed. There’s nothing digital about the anxiety that lingers when someone describes how they plan to find you.
It’s not just about me. This is happening across the board to anyone who dares to speak with authenticity, especially if they don’t fit the traditional mold of what a “credible” voice sounds or looks like. Journalists, creators, podcasters, and public thinkers are burning out, retreating, or censoring themselves—not because they’re not brave, but because they’re human. Because this level of hostility wears you down.
We need to take a hard look at the platforms that allow this kind of hate to spread unchecked. Social media giants and podcast hosting services need clearer, faster mechanisms for reporting and removing abusive content. Tech companies must be held accountable for allowing their platforms to become vehicles for harassment.
And beyond the platforms, we need a cultural shift—one that doesn’t reward cruelty with engagement. We need audiences to understand that listening to someone speak their truth does not entitle you to attack them. Feedback and critique are welcome. Hate is not.
To the people who’ve sent these messages, know this: I see them. I log them. And I refuse to be silenced by them. And to those who support “Emergency Pods” for the conversations it enables: thank you. Your belief in this work is why I keep going.
Hate is loud, but it isn’t the only voice in the room. Not anymore.