Jesse Itzler has had some pretty remarkable fortune in his life. He got signed as a rapper in the early ’90s. He started two businesses that sold for large sums of money. His wife sold her business for a much, much larger sum of money. Yet, Jesse Itzler’s biggest goal is as yet unrealized: he wants to be a hundred-million-dollar motivational coach. For The New Yorker, Tad Friend hits yet another state-of-the-American-man profile out of the park.
To many rudderless men who feel at sea, toxic masculinity seems like a safe harbor. Ed Mylett, a prominent speaker, told me, “The easiest lane to get big right now is right-wing politics and hypermasculinity. Show ’em your Lambo, show ’em your mansion, show ’em your muscles, and scream at ’em.” Though seventy-five per cent of the life coaches in North America are female, women are vastly underrepresented among the best-paid motivators. Of the seven speakers on the poster for the Forward Event, six were men. “I am so often the token female at these dude events,” Jen Gottlieb, a podcaster and speaker, told me.
Itzler’s masculinity is relatively evolved, but he does dwell on grievances. When a lone detractor called him “pampered” in a reply to Itzler’s Instagram post about an Ultraman (perhaps because he’d brought a team of six to film, hydrate, and Theragun him), Itzler groused about it for weeks: “I will never forget that!” But he generally uses grudges as fuel for the next race, then discards them like an empty bottle of Muscle Milk. “Something must have happened in my childhood where I thought I had something to prove,” he told me. “I’d have to spend a lot of time on the couch to figure it out.” Any plans to? “Nope!”
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