Yes, I willingly walked into a carnivore-heavy biohacking conference as a plant-based integrative wellness and cancer coach. Curiosity won. This is just me sharing what I saw, what struck me, and what made me think.

On Friday, I spent most of the day at the Hack Your Health festival (formerly KetoCon). I was invited by the founder, Robin Switzer, and decided to go—mostly out of curiosity, but also to see how this world lines up with what I do as an integrative wellness and cancer coach. I also knew ahead of time that it was going to be very carnivore-focused, and that alone made me hesitant.

My previous exposure to “biohacking” has mostly involved extremely expensive gadgets, supplements, and services promising rapid aging reversal or some type of optimized, upgraded health. So I went in curious, but with a healthy amount of skepticism.

First Impressions

Most attendees looked to be 50 and older—people clearly looking for answers or new approaches to aging well. As expected, the focus on carnivore eating was everywhere. The majority of sessions were about meat, how to cook it, and why it’s supposedly the healthiest way to eat. And the exhibit hall was filled with high-tech, high-priced machines and “anti-aging” tools that would be out of reach for most people.

The Exhibit Hall

The sales pressure was intense. At one booth, someone put cream under my eyes and used a $1400 red/blue light wand on me, followed by a push to buy everything for a “today only” deal of $499. It felt like a lot.  My no took awhile for her to accept and I didn't want to be rude.

I wandered on and tried a few other things on the floor, including a vibration plate. It reminded me of a particular qigong exercise I do—but with added nausea. I had to laugh about it later.

When I finally stepped away from all the selling, I wandered into the best moment of the day—a sweet dog who immediately kissed my face. His person was Chris Brandlin, a lawyer-turned-dietician, carnivore advocate, and political candidate. We had a friendly conversation, even though I mentioned I was vegan. We still agreed on one basic thing: eat real food.

He also mentioned that his advisors encouraged him to run for Congress in Nevada instead of California because Nevada is more “red,” and his carnivore platform would be better received there. That comment made me pause. It made me wonder if part of the attraction is that right-leaning states tend to push for less government regulation, which might make it easier for people to promote certain health claims without as much oversight. Not a conclusion—just something I wondered about.

Conversations About Carnivore

Later in the lounge, I spoke with a woman who had recently switched to a carnivore diet. She tried to share the “science” behind it, but a lot of it didn’t quite land. What really stood out was how she seemed almost guilty when she said:

“I do like a little broccoli with my meat.” As if broccoli were something to apologize for.

While listening, I also had another internal thought—not because of anything anyone said outright, but because of the overall atmosphere. There seemed to be a strong belief that eating animals in large amounts is simply what humans are meant to do, without much acknowledgment of the animals themselves. Not cruelty, just a kind of automatic assumption that this is our right as the dominant species.

Being surrounded by so much confidence in that belief made me aware of how differently I relate to food. For me, animals are living beings, not resources. That difference in worldview sat with me throughout the day—not as judgment, just a noticing.

Another theme I heard repeatedly was that this way of eating is how our Stone Age ancestors lived. But humans were foragers long before they were hunters. Plants—fruits, roots, nuts, seeds—were the dependable foods. Meat wasn’t always available, and certainly not in the amounts people eat today. Hunting only became meaningful once tools developed. That nuance wasn’t something I heard reflected in the conversations.

The woman I was talking to then introduced me to one of the keynote speakers she admired, Dr. Elizabeth Bright. I mentioned that I’m a longtime vegan and have never been healthier. She said it was my DNA. I talked about real food and, for those who do eat meat, the importance of the quality of meat - how raised, fed, treated- the life of the animals people choose to consume. She said quality didn’t matter—that saturated fat was what the brain needs. When I brought up bio-individuality again, she walked away.

 

The Only Two Sessions I Attended — and Actually Enjoyed

I only went to two sessions, and I genuinely liked both—mostly because they had nothing to do with diet.

The first was with Jana Danielson, presenting Death Begins in Your Big Toe: The Biohack for Pelvic and Metabolic Health. She used her Cooch Ball and demonstrated how to work with the feet and glutes. I loved how low-tech and accessible it was. Simple self-massage and increased blood flow can make a real difference, and none of it required expensive equipment.

The second was with Breath Master William Travis Steffens, who led a hands-on demo of DMT Inner Awakening Breathwork—a way to shift mental states using breath alone. He broke down the techniques clearly and mentioned his app lightly, without being pushy. A breath of fresh air after the intensity of the exhibit floor.

My Takeaway

At the end of the day, my impressions were pretty clear:

Biohacking, at least in this environment, felt overwhelmingly expensive, meat-centric, and somewhat exclusionary. It seemed to prioritize technology over intuition, consumption over connection, and a fixed ideology over individual needs.

But the real hack—the one that’s actually available to everyone—is beautifully simple:

Eat real food & hydrate, move, breathe fully, spend time being with and doing what brings you meaning, purpose, and joy daily, and practice gratitude.

No machines required.
And if you’re lucky, a dog kiss too.