A summarized version of the full post on Jennifer Sey’s Substack, Sey Everything. Subscribe there for the complete story and deeper context.
From XX-XY Athletics founder, Jennifer Sey:
I Was in the Room at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner When the Shots Rang Out
I was in the room at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner when the shots rang out.
I’m not a journalist. I was invited as a guest of The Daily Wire, and I accepted immediately. Why wouldn’t I? It felt like one of those rare, cultural, bucket-list experiences—something you say yes to without overthinking.
I had no idea how unforgettable it would become.
Walking Into the Unknown
I went alone. As an introvert, the idea of entering a ballroom filled with 2,600 strangers and making small talk felt overwhelming. This wasn’t just small talk—it was small talk on steroids.
Still, I’ve always believed in saying yes to moments you’ll remember.
I’ve been to the Grammy Awards, multiple Super Bowls, the MTV Video Music Awards back when they were a must-attend, and more Coachella weekends than I can count.
This felt like it belonged on that list.
So I got dressed, had my makeup done, and headed out.
The Walk In
My Uber couldn’t get close, so I walked the final six blocks in the rain.
By the time I arrived, I looked like a drowned rat. Hair ruined. Makeup streaked. Lashes hanging on for dear life.
It didn’t matter, I told myself. No one would be looking at me anyway.
As I approached, protesters lined the streets, shouting:
“F*ck you!”
“Pedophile!”
“If you go in there, you’re complicit!”
“Free Palestine!”
It was unsettling—but not unfamiliar. I’ve dealt with protests before.
I moved quickly inside, passed security, and made a beeline for the bar.
Settling In
I found my hosts and my tablemate for the evening. We laughed about our soaked hair and ruined makeup before making our way to our table—way in the back. Nosebleed seats, but perfect for people-watching.
And honestly? I was having fun.
We scanned the room:
“There’s Harris Faulkner.”
“There’s Brian Stelter.”
The energy was building. The room buzzed with anticipation.
Then Everything Changed
Suddenly—shouting.
“Get down! Get under the table!”
Then three loud pops.
Gunshots.
I didn’t know where they were coming from. I didn’t know if they were in the room.
Is this really happening?
I dropped under the table and grabbed the hand of a woman I had met less than an hour earlier. We weren’t hysterical—but we were scared. A couple of staff members crouched with us. One woman at our table stayed calm, repeating:
“You’re okay. Stay down. You’re okay.”
Over and over.
We stayed there, frozen in place, trying to understand what was happening.
A Different Reality
I’ve spent my career in fashion. I’ve hosted major events. The biggest concern at those was someone taking too much of something and needing help.
Gunfire was never part of the equation.
But in that moment, under that table, everything felt different.
I’ve attended events like Turning Point USA’s Young Women’s Leadership Summit and Moms for Liberty gatherings. There’s always an undercurrent now—a sense that things can escalate.
And suddenly, it had.
Getting Out
Eventually, we decided to leave.
We slipped out a side exit and walked quickly—heels clicking, adrenaline carrying us forward. My ankle throbbed, but I barely noticed.
Sirens filled the air. Police blocked streets. National Guard troops shouted commands.
We stood outside, disoriented, trying to process what had just happened.
Eventually, I made my way back to my hotel alone.
The Aftermath
I wasn’t physically harmed. The gunman never reached the ballroom.
But that doesn’t change what those moments felt like.
When you hear gunshots and dive under a table with strangers, you don’t have context. You don’t have clarity. You only have the question:
Is this how it ends?
What Stayed With Me
I went to that dinner expecting a cultural experience—a celebration of media, conversation, and yes, even disagreement.
Instead, I left with something far heavier.
Sitting under that table, holding the hand of someone I had just met, I realized something with complete clarity:
There are things worth standing for—even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it’s uncertain. Even when it carries risk.
I gave up my career to speak out during the pandemic because I believe in free speech.
And in that moment, I understood something I hadn’t fully faced before:
If I had to, I would risk everything for it.
