Eileen Gu, the celebrated freestyle skier who captured global attention by competing for China despite her American roots, has stepped into the political fray to defend a fellow athlete facing presidential criticism. Her intervention highlights the growing tension between sports and politics as the 2026 Milan-Cortina Winter Olympics approach.
The controversy erupted when President Donald Trump launched a scathing attack on American skier Hunter Hess, who publicly expressed mixed feelings about representing the United States at the upcoming Games. Trump’s response, posted on his Truth Social platform, didn’t mince words: he labeled Hess a “real loser” and suggested the athlete shouldn’t have tried out for Team USA if he harbored doubts about his country.
Gu, who won her second Olympic silver medal in Milan, found herself uniquely positioned to comment on the situation. Having faced intense scrutiny herself when she chose at age 15 to compete for her mother’s homeland of China rather than the United States, Gu understands the pressures athletes face when their patriotic loyalties are questioned.
“I’m sorry that the headline that is eclipsing the Olympics has to be something so — unrelated to the spirit of the Games,” Gu told The Athletic in a measured response. “It really runs contrary to everything the Olympics should be.”
Her words carry particular weight given her own journey. Born and raised in San Francisco, Gu became the youngest Olympic champion in freestyle skiing history while representing China at the 2022 Beijing Winter Games. That decision, which she framed as an effort to promote winter sports in a nation without a deep skiing tradition, sparked fierce debate about national identity and athletic allegiance.
Now 22, Gu sees parallels between her experience and Hess’s current predicament. “As someone who has got caught in the crossfire before, I feel sorry for the athletes,” she explained. “I hope that they can ski to their very best.”
The freestyle champion’s defense of Hess underscores a fundamental principle she believes is being lost in the political noise: the Olympics should transcend partisan divisions and serve as a platform for global unity. When athletic competitions become battlegrounds for political score-settling, Gu argues, the very essence of the Games suffers.
Joining Gu in supporting Hess was another American snow sports superstar, snowboarder Chloe Kim. The 25-year-old double gold medalist and eight-time X Games champion offered a perspective shaped by her own family history as the daughter of immigrants.
“It’s important in moments like these for us to unite and kind of stand up for one another with what’s going on,” Kim told the Times. While affirming her pride in representing the United States—a country that provided her family with opportunities—she defended every athlete’s right to voice concerns about national policies.
“Obviously, my parents being immigrants, this one hits pretty close to home,” Kim added, implicitly referencing the immigration enforcement policies that Hess had criticized.
The controversy began when Hess, a 27-year-old free ski Olympian, shared his complicated feelings about wearing the American flag in competition. He expressed disagreement with numerous developments in the United States, specifically pointing to immigration policies as a source of his discomfort. His candid remarks about having “mixed emotions” regarding his Olympic participation struck a nerve with the President.
Trump’s reaction was swift and unforgiving. Beyond calling Hess a loser, the President questioned why the skier had pursued a spot on Team USA if he felt conflicted about American policies. “Very hard to root for someone like this,” Trump wrote, appending his signature campaign slogan, “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!”
The exchange reveals a deepening fault line between athletic expression and political expectation. For decades, the Olympic movement has promoted itself as a neutral space where athletes from all nations compete on equal footing, united by shared dedication to sport. Yet as political polarization intensifies globally, that neutrality faces unprecedented challenges.
Gu’s intervention represents a defense of this Olympic ideal. By speaking out, she positions herself as an advocate for athlete autonomy—the principle that competitors should be judged on their performance, not their political views. Her own experience taught her that representing a country involves complex personal calculations that outsiders may not fully understand.
The skier’s decision to compete for China was never purely about athletics. She described it as a mission to expand winter sports’ reach in the world’s most populous nation, a goal that aligned with her personal connection to her mother’s heritage. Critics, however, saw it as a betrayal or a political calculation, subjecting a teenage Gu to intense media scrutiny and public criticism.
That history makes her empathy for Hess particularly poignant. She recognizes that athletes increasingly find themselves navigating treacherous waters where their every statement can trigger nationalistic backlash. In an era of social media amplification and political tribalism, the space for nuanced patriotism seems to be shrinking.
The broader Olympic community faces difficult questions about how to preserve the Games’ unifying spirit. When heads of state publicly attack athletes for expressing personal views, it creates a chilling effect that could silence important voices. Gu and Kim’s defense of Hess suggests a growing athlete solidarity movement, where competitors support each other against external pressures.
For Hess, the support from two of snow sports’ biggest stars offers some insulation against the political storm. Both Gu and Kim have achieved the pinnacle of Olympic success while navigating complex questions about identity and representation. Their backing validates his right to wrestle with patriotic feelings without facing character assassination.
The incident also highlights the unique position of immigrant athletes and those with multicultural backgrounds in American sports. Kim’s reference to her parents’ immigrant experience connects the controversy to larger debates about what it means to be American. Her success story—like Gu’s—demonstrates that national pride can coexist with critical engagement.
As the Milan-Cortina Games approach, this controversy serves as a reminder that Olympic athletes are more than just flag-bearers. They are individuals with personal beliefs, family histories, and moral compasses that may not always align perfectly with national policies. Gu’s call to focus on athletic achievement rather than political purity tests resonates with those who believe sports should build bridges, not walls.
The debate also raises questions about the role of presidents in commenting on Olympic matters. While leaders have historically used the Games for diplomatic purposes, direct attacks on individual athletes represent a departure from tradition. Such interventions risk transforming the Olympics from a celebration of human potential into another arena for political combat.
Ultimately, Gu’s message is one of return to first principles. The Olympics, she suggests, should be about what happens on the slopes and in the arenas—not about political point-scoring. By defending Hess, she defends the idea that athletes deserve the space to compete at their highest level without becoming pawns in larger ideological battles.
Her hope that athletes can simply “ski to their very best” reflects a desire to reclaim sport’s essential purity. In a world increasingly divided by politics, the Olympic ideal of unity through competition offers a powerful alternative vision—one that Gu, despite her own controversial choices, continues to champion.