Setting the Chorus Record Straight (Humble Pie Included)

Incubator or influence machine? Let’s open it up.

Pride vs. Truth: Time to Eat a Little Crow

I’ll admit it: I almost got high on my own outrage supply with the whole Chorus dark money scandal. When the WIRED story first hit, I was ready to mic-drop on every influencer I thought was secretly on the take. I even almost fell for a juicy bit of disinfo that WIRED had retracted the article I was practically dancing in the end zone. (Spoiler: the article “still hasn’t even been retracted”) This follow-up (original post HERE) isn’t about saving face or doubling down on pride; it’s about clarity and truth, even if that means I gotta take a step back and correct the record. Consider this my humble pie moment served with a just pinch of irony, of course.

Before we dive in, let’s recap the original claims that had me and many others riled up. According to the WIRED investigation by Taylor Lorenz, a secretive initiative was paying influencers “up to $8,000 a month to push the party line” with the catch that they had to keep quiet about it and accept restrictions on their content . The program, run by a group called Chorus and bankrolled by a liberal dark-money fund (Sixteen Thirty Fund), allegedly came with gag orders and content rules straight out of a spy thriller. It sounded like the Democrats had finally discovered influencer marketing and immediately took it to the shadowy extreme. I mean, secret contracts? No disclosure? Content guidelines enforced by who-knows-who? It was the kind of story that writes its own punchlines. Of course I jumped on it. Who the hell wouldn’t?

Elizabeth “Booker” Houston

But then came the pushback which came notably from Elizabeth “Booker” Houston, one of the creators named in this saga. She sat down with Angela Rye on the Native Land podcast and brought receipts. And you know what? Some parts of this story look a whole lot different through her eyes. So let’s break this down, follow the receipts, and see where the truth actually lies versus where I (and WIRED) might have run ahead of the facts.

Was It Really “Dark Money” or Just Regular Money?

The first thing Booker took issue with was that big, bad term: “dark money.” In the original story (and yep, in my own commentary), dark money was the boogeyman conjuring images of shady billionaires passing duffel bags of cash under the table. Booker, who is a lawyer by the way, said hold up dude, you’re using that term “in the absolute broadest way” just to get folks riled up . And click we did, because dark money sounds nefarious as hell.

So what’s the reality? The program’s funds come from a 501(c)(4) nonprofit (the Sixteen Thirty Fund), which legally doesn’t have to disclose its donors and that’s why it qualifies as dark money in a technical sense . Booker doesn’t deny that definition (money where you “cannot trace the donations back to the donors” ). But she argues that calling the whole Chorus program dark money was a salacious stretch . In her view, it painted Chorus as some shadowy cabal, when in fact a ton of progressive orgs operate as c4 “dark money” groups (Planned Parenthood Action Fund, ACLU, NAACP, you name it ). Basically, she’s saying: if you’re gonna call Chorus out, keep that same energy for all the other issue-advocacy groups that use this legal structure. Otherwise, you’re just using a spooky buzzword to grab clicks. And honestly, she has a point which is that “dark money” makes for a sexy headline (guilty as charged), but not every c4 funded project is an evil plot. Sometimes it’s just… money for a program that donors prefer to give quietly.

Now, does that make it okay? Not necessarily. Transparency is still my thang, and I believe voters (and viewers) deserve to know who’s funding political messaging. But it’s true that the phrase “dark money” carried a heavy insinuation in this context – like Chorus was some lefty Illuminati. Booker’s right that the connotation was negative and kind of click-baity . So, I’ll cop to this: slapping the “dark money” label on Chorus was a bit broad and incendiary. It painted the whole operation with the same brush we use for, say, shady election interference schemes – and that might be overkill here. The funding source is legal and disclosed to the IRS even if not public; the real issue is whether the creators were hiding a paid relationship from their audience. In other words, the sin might be secrecy, not the money itself.

Who’s Pulling the Strings? (Editorial Control vs. Autonomy)

One of the spiciest parts of the WIRED piece was the suggestion that Chorus demanded editorial control over creators’ content. The contract, as reported, had all kinds of clauses about what you could or couldn’t say with their money, and even a bit about Chorus having discretion to force removal of content made at their events . That sounds like Big Brother in a Blue suit, right? I blasted the creators for signing away their voice. That was the image: influencers muzzled by a secret Dem donor puppet-master.

Here’s where Booker hit me with a reality check. She flat-out says Chorus “did not want to have any influence over the subject matter of [her] content.” In fact, that hands-off approach is exactly why she joined. In her words: “We want to find a way to fund you and also give you tools to grow your platform, but not tell you what to do” is how Chorus pitched the program . That was music to her ears. No one saying “you must post this, you can’t post that.” No demand to “make a video… in exchange” for the money . Booker literally recalls thinking “Okay, you’re not even going to expect content from me”, which, ironically, was the selling point .

So what about those contract clauses? Booker acknowledges they exist and she’s seen the contract (Angela Rye even waved a copy on air). But she interprets them differently. For instance, the much-derided rule that creators must run any lawmaker meetings or political collabs through Chorus? That, to her, wasn’t about censoring content …it was about coordination and avoiding duplication of efforts. (Chorus wanted to be in the loop if an influencer planned an interview with Senator X, perhaps to avoid six influencers all pestering the same official at once. Not a great look, but also not exactly “don’t you dare speak to so-and-so”.) And the ban on using Chorus funds to explicitly campaign for a candidate without permission – that sounds restrictive, but it might be there to keep the project legally nonpartisan on paper (lol gotta love campaign finance rules). In practice, Booker insists she never got a call like “Hey, take that post down” or “Stick to this script.” No one in Chorus was vetting her videos or handing out talking points to parrot.

In fact, she laughs at the idea that $8K a month could buy her silence or obedience. “I’m just going to keep it a buck,” she says, “$8,000 is not enough money for somebody to get content out of me all month. It’s just not.” . (I mean, fair right? eight grand is decent, but as she points out, top creators can make a lot more independently.) She’d have to be a real cheap date to sell out her beliefs for that price, and she ain’t. So according to Booker, Chorus wasn’t pulling her strings at all. They didn’t dictate her editorial line; they just provided support (more on that in a second).

Now, am I totally ready to say there was zero editorial influence? Huum. I still see those written clauses and cringe a bit. It’s easy to say “they didn’t actually enforce it,” but the contract allowed for content policing in certain scenarios . Even if Chorus never exercised that power, the fact it was on paper is… well, it’s concerning. However, I gotta be real: Booker’s firsthand account carries weight. The absence of any actual content interference in her experience is notable. Maybe the idea of content control was more about brand protection (like, “don’t use our grant to endorse a candidate and get us in legal trouble”) than silencing progressive viewpoints. It’s possible WIRED (and yours truly) read the worst into it. Context matters and hearing Booker say “They did not want to have any influence over that [content]” does reframe the narrative. At minimum, it seems Chorus wasn’t micromanaging creators day-to-day. There was no Democratic National Committee stooge on the phone going “Delete that TikTok, it’s off-message!”

So on the charge of editorial control, the jury’s now leaning toward not as bad as it sounded. If anything, the control was more indirect – which brings us to the next rumor to bust.

The Gaza Post Test: Party Line or Nah?

One claim that spread like wildfire was that Chorus was basically turning these influencers into Biden administration PR bots like they’d be barred from criticizing Democrats or talking about issues that make the party look bad. The most emotional example: Gaza. People began accusing Booker and others of staying silent on Palestine because of Chorus, essentially calling them sellouts who chose a check over their conscience. I’ll be honest, I side-eyed a bit when I heard that. It fit the narrative: “Look, they took the cash and now they won’t dare post Free Palestine.”

But Booker brought the receipts and the timestamps on this one. She calls the “we weren’t allowed to talk about Gaza” line an “easily debunked claim” – and she debunked it with a quickness. Turns out, since joining Chorus, she posted about Gaza. A lot. Her attorney went back and counted 19 separate posts since June 1st – posts on her Instagram grid, Stories, collabs – “all about the genocide in Gaza”, plus related issues . She was covering a humanitarian flotilla, amplifying a story about Chris Smalls being beaten by the IDF, sharing a doctor’s testimony from Gaza, posting fundraising links for Palestinian families – the whole nine . Far from being muzzled, she was loud about Gaza.

When one rumor-monger suggested Chorus members were forbidden to mention the war, Booker’s followers (and haters) came at her like “Why won’t you acknowledge Gaza?!” Imagine their surprise when she basically said, “Bruh, I’ve been screaming about Gaza this whole time, where have you been?” In her words, the idea she ignored Gaza was so absurd because she “consistently” spoke on it . And indeed, I (sheepishly) went and checked – receipts check out. The content’s there.

So, that narrative fizzles. Chorus didn’t stop her from posting pro-Palestinian content at all. If Chorus was some DNC brainchild forcing a pro-Israel silence, they did a pretty crappy job enforcing it. Booker even says it pissed her off that people assumed she was “pushing the [Democratic] party line” or that the Chorus program was a DNC operation. She’s quick to clarify: The DNC had nothing to do with it, and in fact she’s been publicly critical of the DNC on multiple occasions . (She gave a spicy example: at a DNC creator summit last year, they treated the mostly Black and brown creators like afterthoughts by stuffing multiple people in hotel rooms, no travel stipends, not even covering meals properly . Booker hasn’t forgotten that disrespect. “Never paid me one red cent,” she says of the DNC . So if anyone thinks she’s a secret DNC shill… boy, she’d like a word.)

Bottom line: The Gaza test was passed with flying colors. Booker spoke her mind on a highly controversial issue, with no Chorus goons coming to snatch her phone. And she’s not alone as other Chorus creators also kept posting their usual content from what I can see. Some are pretty left-wing and have no qualms critiquing Biden or Democrats on certain issues. There was no sudden about-face in their feeds to all sunshine-and-roses party propaganda. So the fear that Chorus = message control doesn’t hold water in terms of real-world posts. The “party line” wasn’t as rigid as advertised. If anything, Chorus might have hoped these creators would naturally amplify progressive values (and yes, probably cheerlead Democrats overall), but they didn’t slap duct tape on anyone’s mouth. And trust me, if they tried, we would’ve noticed – these are online personalities who live on Twitter/X drama. They’d leak that faster than a White House intern leaks to Politico.

Money forWhat, Exactly? (Follow the Support, Not Just the Dollars)

Alright, let’s talk money. $8,000 a month is nothing to sneeze at – it certainly caught everyone’s attention (including mine). The initial take (thanks to that WIRED framing) was: These influencers are being paid to post. Like it’s a straightforward transaction… “Here’s your talking points and your check, now go make content, kiddo.” If that were true, it would basically be an undeclared political advertising campaign, which is sketchy as hell.

According to Booker, however, that ain’t how it went down. Yes, she got funds – but not for specific content. She wasn’t a pay-per-post hire. The way Chorus pitched it was, we see potential in you as a progressive voice; we want to invest in your growth. Think of it like a scholarship or grant for content creators. They give support, resources, training, maybe some equipment or services and a stipend so you can focus on your craft but no one said “make us X videos about Topic Y.” In her words, Chorus told them “We want to find a way to fund you and give you tools to be able to grow your platform, but not tell you what to do.” That’s a pretty important distinction. They were incubating talent, not buying ads.

What kind of support are we talking? Booker mentioned things like technical training and how to edit videos better, improve audio quality, grow on different platforms. Basically, creator 101 bootcamp stuff. They had workshops, cohort meetings, and “newsroom” events where creators could network and learn. It’s like influencer summer camp, funded by political philanthropy. The money helped free up their time (maybe letting them quit a day job or cut hours to focus on content) and gave them tools to amplify their existing message . Importantly, Booker notes, they explicitly did not tie the funds to any deliverables. It wasn’t “Here’s $X, you owe us Y number of TikToks singing Biden’s praises.” In fact, she was surprised they “didn’t even expect content” from her as part of the deal . That lack of strings attached is what convinced her it wasn’t a soul-selling situation.

Now, some of you (and past-me) might ask: why would a bunch of donors just throw money and resources at influencers with no guarantee of return? Welcome to the world of soft power, baby. We’ll talk about that in a bit, but the gist is: it’s an investment in shaping the media ecosystem. Wealthy folks and orgs do it all the time via think tanks, grants to journalists, funding activist networks, etc. This is just a more digital-age version.

However, credit where due as Booker makes a strong case that Chorus creators weren’t paid to make specific content, they were paid to keep doing what they already do, just better and louder. It’s a fine line, I know. Even she acknowledges it can be a double entendre: Chorus wanted to amplify these voices, but also probably knew having popular voices on board would make Chorus itself look good (and attract more funding) . It’s mutual back-scratchery: creators get a leg up, Chorus gets to claim they’re boosting the next progressive superstars.

From an ethical standpoint, the key question is disclosure. If you’re receiving financial support that could bias your content, you should tell your audience. Booker’s stance is that Chorus didn’t bias her content (no editorial influence), so she felt no moral obligation to shout “I’m in a program!” from the rooftops – especially since the contract said not to. I still feel a bit icky about that secrecy (again, more on that soon). But we should be clear: no one was out here on Instagram going “Vote for Biden, use promo code CHORUS for 10% off at the polls”. The creators continued making their content, in their voice. If it often aligned with Dem messaging – well, that’s likely why they were chosen in the first place. Chorus didn’t need to hand them talking points because these folks already broadly support progressive/Democratic values. This was about scale and consistency, not flipping their script.

So, if I implied (or outright claimed) that these influencers were shilling for cash, that they took money to push content they wouldn’t otherwise push – I gotta walk that back. Booker’s experience suggests they were pushing the same messages they believed in all along, just with a nicer production value and maybe a steadier paycheck for a while. Intentions of the funders aside, the creators themselves didn’t approach it as a transactional “fee for service” deal. It was more like receiving a grant from an arts foundation except the arts foundation is a political nonprofit and the art is YouTube videos. Weird world we live in, but here we are.

Retraction Rumors and Reality Checks

Let’s address the elephant in the room: Did WIRED screw up? And did I get spun by either side’s narrative? After the article dropped, a counter-narrative spread that it was all a big nothing-burger, even “debunked”. Some Chorus participants (and their allies) claimed Taylor Lorenz’s piece was false and implied it had been retracted or would be soon. I saw tweets with victory laps, statements like “that WIRED hit piece has been fully debunked” and so on. I was this close to amplifying that, as if WIRED was eating crow.

But pump the brakes y’all. WIRED has not retracted the story. It’s still up (with maybe a minor update or two, but certainly not pulled) . In fact, as of this writing, WIRED is standing by it. Booker herself noted with some frustration that despite her complaints, the article “still hasn’t even been retracted” . So yeah, I nearly became a casualty of the misinformation ping-pong that followed: first the article, then the backlash, then the backlash-to-the-backlash. Lesson learned: double-check everything, especially when the word “retraction” starts floating around on social media.

However, that doesn’t mean WIRED is in the clear either. Booker is not taking this lying down. She lawyered up and fired off a demand letter to WIRED and Condé Nast basically saying “Retract this, or else.” She claims to have provided 15 exhibits of evidence to prove the article was defamatory or false . Those exhibits likely include her posting history (to refute the Gaza claim), correspondence showing she wasn’t hiding being in Chorus (maybe messages with Lorenz?), and possibly the Chorus contract itself to contest how it was characterized. Booker asserts that Lorenz knew she was in Chorus well before publishing implying some personal beef or at least prior communication that didn’t make it into the story . She’s essentially accusing the journalist of willfully omitting facts and context to make it juicier. That’s a strong accusation, and if true, not a good look for WIRED.

Now, will WIRED issue a retraction or correction? So far, no. Could it end up in court? Maybe, although the bar for defamation is high, especially when it involves public figures and matters of public interest. I’m not a lawyer (and I don’t have Booker’s lawyer on speed dial), but I suspect WIRED will fight this one out in the court of public opinion before any actual courtroom. They have receipts of their own which are the contracts and messages from creators. They did reach out for comment (Booker quibbles with how that was done, noting the DM versus her phone number mix-up ). It’s messy.

For me, the key takeaway is: I need to sift out the signal from the noise. The mere fact that the creators are scrambling to demand a retraction doesn’t automatically mean the article was bunk, just as the article being published didn’t automatically mean every implication was gospel truth. I fell for a bit of the hype on both sides. Time to step back and be systematic: What did the contract actually say? What did the creators actually do? And where are we possibly dealing with interpretations and spin rather than facts?

So let’s do a quick claims vs. reality rundown, for clarity’s sake:

• Claim (WIRED/Me): Chorus was a “secretive dark money” scheme.
  Reality: The money is from a known nonprofit (1630 Fund). It’s legally dark money, but the term was used in a sensational way . Chorus wasn’t an underground conspiracy; it was a not-widely-publicized initiative (probably too secret for its own good, actually).

• Claim: Influencers were paid to parrot Democratic talking points.
  Reality: Influencers were paid, but not given explicit content orders. They continued making their own content. Booker posted content even critical of Dems (e.g. on Gaza) with no pushback . The alignment with Democratic messaging was natural, not forced (and not 100% – these creators still have independent streaks).

• Claim: Chorus controlled and restricted influencers’ content.
  Reality: Contract had restrictive language, yes . But in practice, Booker says no one at Chorus influenced her content or had editorial say . No content was vetoed or demanded by Chorus during her time in the program. The worst that can be said is creators self-censored a disclosure (i.e. didn’t tell followers they were funded) – which, while not great, is different from being told what opinions to express.

• Claim: Creators were hiding a pay-for-play arrangement from their audience.
  Reality: They did hide the funding relationship (per the contract). So on that front, guilty as charged – their followers were in the dark. But the arrangement was more patronage than pay-for-play. It was about support and growth, not one-off sponsored content. Ethically, the opacity is still a problem (I’ll get to that next), but it’s not as cartoonishly corrupt as it first appeared.

• Claim: WIRED’s article was full of it, destined for a retraction.
  Reality: The article stands as of now, and while some aspects feel misleading (depending on who you ask), the core facts of a paid program with secrecy clauses are true. Booker is pushing for a retraction legally , but whether she gets one is an open question. It’s a he-said-she-said (or rather she-said-she-said, in this case) on some points.

Alright, with the myths addressed, let’s tackle the last piece of this puzzle: even if we give Chorus and the creators the benefit of the doubt, is this whole situation cool? Or are there still some shady vibes we can’t ignore?

Lingering Shadows: What Still Smells Shady

Even after clearing up the exaggerations, I’m not about to sing Kumbaya and pretend everything’s peachy. There are still issues here that itch my brain such as questions of transparency, trust, and the soft power of money.

Let’s be real: secrecy was built into Chorus’s model. The contract explicitly said don’t tell anyone you’re in this program. That’s a red flag to me. If the intent was pure and simply to help progressive voices, why the paranoia about public disclosure? One argument might be that they feared right-wing backlash or trolling (which, surprise, happened anyway). But if you can’t publicly stand by a program, should you really be doing it? Influencers regularly disclose partnerships and even when the appearance of hiding a funded relationship undermines audience trust. Booker and Co. might feel it wasn’t “sponsorship” since no content was dictated. But audiences might feel differently. It’s money related to your content, so it’s relevant. The fact that audiences did react strongly when the news broke shows that this covert approach backfired spectacularly.

Then there’s the matter of audience trust. I always come back to this. When you’re a political commentator or personality, your currency is credibility. If your followers find out you had a powerful patron in the background especially one you never mentioned… that erodes trust, plain and simple. Even if you said all the same things you would’ve said anyway, people will wonder, “Were they truly independent?” It’s human nature. By asking creators to keep the funding hush-hush, Chorus set them up for that fallout. It’s hard to blame viewers for feeling a bit duped; I mean, I feel a bit duped and I’m just watching from the cheap seats. Transparency would have prevented a lot of this drama. (Of course, then maybe the creators would face different criticism like “Oh you’re a paid Dem influencer, shill shill shill!” but hey, at least it’s out in the open.)

Now, about that soft power. This is more nebulous, but hear me out: Even if Chorus never outright controlled content, money always has an influence. It might be subtle. If someone is suddenly paying your bills, you might unconsciously avoid biting the hand that feeds you. Booker is fiercely independent-minded, I believe that, but not everyone is immune to the golden handcuffs. The whole concept of an influencer incubator funded by partisan interests is a soft power play. Instead of paying for specific propaganda, donors nurture sympathetic voices in hopes they’ll create a friendly media ecosystem. It’s long-game influence, not instant control. That still deserves scrutiny. We worry (rightly) about think tanks with undisclosed donors shaping narratives, or YouTubers secretly on a politician’s payroll. Is Chorus fundamentally different? The creators insist their words are their own and I’m much more inclined to believe that now, however, the strategy from above is clearly to boost content that aligns with their political goals. In other words, they’re investing in influencing the culture, just in a warmer, fuzzier way than a Super PAC ad blitz. There’s nothing illegal about that, but we should keep our eyes open. Today it’s grants and training. Tomorrow, maybe it does slide into more coordinated messaging. Vigilance is key.

Also still unresolved: who exactly are the donors and what are their expectations? We know the 1630 Fund is bankrolling Chorus. But 1630 Fund is just a conduit – a pooling vehicle for donors. Some rich folks (or companies, or unions, etc.) decided to put their dollars into this influencer idea. Why? What outcomes are they hoping for? It’s not purely altruism, I guarantee that. Maybe they genuinely want to see progressive messages thrive online (nothing wrong with that). Or maybe they want to counteract the MAGA influencers and see Democrats win elections (nothing wrong there either, if done transparently). The murkiness of it all leaves room for speculation. That vacuum of info can breed conspiracy theories and, ironically, make the whole thing look more sinister than it might actually be. Chorus and its creators could do themselves a favor by shedding more light on the structure: e.g., “Yes, wealthy liberals funded this, no, they don’t tell us what to say, here’s what they do expect (like attend trainings, hit growth targets, etc.).” In absence of that clarity, the stink of “something’s hidden” will linger.

Lastly, I have to point out the optics: This program was aimed at countering the right-wing media machine, which often operates in the shadows, yes. The left always prided itself on being more transparent and grassroots. Chorus kind of feels like playing catch-up by copying a page from the dark-money playbook (albeit for causes I might agree with). It’s a bit disheartening that it came to this and that people felt the only way to fight fire was with fire. As Angela Rye said, we’re in unprecedented times, and maybe “when you are playing with people who are not playing fair, at some point you got to step into the ball game.” I get that. But stepping into the game doesn’t mean we drop our values. If we believe in transparency and honesty, we gotta hold our own side to that, even as we strategize to win hearts and minds.

Closing: Back to the North Star 🌟

This has been one heck of a learning moment for me man. I started out cracking jokes about Democratic Illuminati TikTok squads, ready to roast anyone involved. Now I find myself in a more nuanced place: still critical, but with a fuller picture. And the picture is this: truth and transparency are non-negotiable for trust. My North Star, the guiding principle , has to remain earned trust. That means when I get something wrong or only half-right, I owe it to you (and to myself) to come clean and set it right. It also means I’ll keep calling for transparency from others, even on “my side” of the aisle. Because trust me, if you’re doing the right thing, you shouldn’t have to hide it.

So here it is: I was partly wrong about Chorus. It wasn’t a grand evil scheme to turn creators into puppets. But it was and is a bit sketchy in how it’s structured and secretive. Both of those truths can exist at once. The creators involved aren’t sellouts or scammers as some detractors painted them, no, they’re people who took an opportunity to grow, and I respect the hustle. However, the architects of this program still owe all of us , especially the audiences , some answers and accountability. You can bet I’ll be watching for that.

At the end of the day, I’m not on Team Wired or Team Chorus – I’m on Team Show-Me-The-Receipts. And the receipts should be public, not locked in NDAs and private chats. My promise to you, dear readers, is that I’ll keep following those receipts wherever they lead, with my B.S. detector in hand. No one’s gonna earn my trust (or yours) with smoke and mirrors. We deserve authentic voices and honest disclosure.

Thank you for coming along on this rollercoaster. In a world full of noise, truth, transparency, and earned trust will be what sets us free and I’m here for all of it, even if it means eating a slice of humble pie now and then. Onward.