Kris Nóva was the kind of engineer who showed up unhoused at the start and ended up building the infrastructure half the cloud-native world runs on. She wrote Kubernetes tools, Rust runtimes, books about capitalism, and newsletters about none of the above. She climbed mountains and governed open source communities with the same clarity of purpose. When she died in a climbing accident in Seattle in 2023, she left behind 388 GitHub repositories, two books, a thriving Mastodon instance, and a foundation designed to outlast her.
Kris Nóva - Photo: Peter Adams / Faces of Open Source (2018)
Let's start where most people wouldn't: Kris Nóva spent part of her early twenties homeless in the Midwest. She found programming not because she had a scholarship or a mentor, but because it was one of the few places where the code was judged on its merits, not the person who wrote it. Three startup exits later, she was writing infrastructure tools that reshaped how the industry thought about deploying Kubernetes.
That early chapter - survival followed by mastery - informed everything she built afterward. The Privilege Escalation Foundation wasn't a PR exercise. It was Kris taking a Linux security concept and turning it into a nonprofit that gave cash and access to transgender people in STEM. The naming was deliberate, the mission was personal.
By the time she joined GitHub as Principal Engineer in early 2023, she had already worked at SolidFire, Microsoft's Deis division, Heptio, VMware, Sysdig, and Twilio. Each stop left a trail of open source projects, talks, and collaborators who described her the same way: relentlessly brilliant, incapable of pretense, genuinely kind.
We lost one of the leading lights of tech... Relentlessly driven, astonishingly brilliant, and one of the bravest people I ever met.- Josh Berkus, on Kris Nóva's passing
Her talks had titles like "Kubernetes Clusterfuck" - which tells you something about how she operated. Not shock value. Just accuracy. The cloud-native community spent years pretending Kubernetes was simple, and Kris spent those same years telling conference rooms what was actually wrong. People kept inviting her back because she was right.
The career list reads like a tour of every critical transition in cloud-native infrastructure. At Heptio, she helped early Kubernetes adopters get their footing. At Sysdig, she led the open source team as Falco - the runtime security tool - grew adoption by 240% in nine months. At Twilio, she was Senior Principal Software Engineer while simultaneously writing a book, founding a nonprofit, and building a Mastodon instance.
Kubicorn was one of her first major open source contributions: a tool that brought sanity to Kubernetes infrastructure management before the tooling ecosystem had caught up to the platform's ambitions. It hit 1.7K GitHub stars. But by her own accounting, the number that mattered wasn't the star count - it was the engineers who stopped fighting their infrastructure and started building on it.
Aurae was her final major project - a distributed systems runtime daemon written in Rust, designed as a memory-safe replacement for existing process managers in cloud environments. It wasn't just a technical choice. She was asking what happens if you design runtime infrastructure from first principles, without the accumulated weight of convention. The project hit 1.9K stars before she died.
Boopkit was something else entirely: a Linux eBPF backdoor research tool. The GitHub description read "Linux eBPF backdoor over TCP. Spawn reverse shells, RCE, on prior privileged access." She published it because understanding attack surface means understanding what attackers already know. 1.7K stars. Security engineers loved it.
The book that helped a generation of engineers understand what "cloud native" actually meant in practice. Published before the Kubernetes ecosystem had matured, it answered questions that hadn't quite been asked yet. Required reading at companies that were serious about infrastructure. Kris co-authored it while simultaneously working full-time - which tells you something about her operating tempo.
Written in the California desert during the 2020 pandemic. Kris described it as "a fucking textbook" for people who didn't grow up with family wealth or elite network access. It modeled the tech industry as a system - with capitalists, workers, exploitation, and leverage clearly labeled. Not a polemic. A map. She wanted marginalized technologists to understand the game before they were already in it.
The GitHub profile bio says "You should never run my code." It's a joke, and it isn't. Kris wrote boopkit - a working eBPF backdoor - and published it publicly so security engineers could understand the attack surface. She streamed her open source work live on Twitch. She hosted Kubernetes talks with titles that made conference organizers nervous and attendees take notes.
When Twitter started collapsing in November 2022, tens of thousands of tech workers needed somewhere to go. Hachyderm - Kris's curated Mastodon instance for technical professionals - absorbed 40,000 of them in weeks. She and her team scaled infrastructure under pressure, documented the chaos publicly, and turned a crisis into an argument for decentralized social infrastructure.
Her Mastodon handle was @nova@hachyderm.io. A nova is a star that suddenly brightens by nuclear explosion - briefly, brilliantly, completely. She wouldn't have picked that metaphor. But it holds.
She was an amazing person that lived out loud and built connection and community wherever she went.- Joe Beda, co-creator of Kubernetes
The Privilege Escalation Foundation - which she founded - gave $5,000 in sponsorships in 2021 to transgender and non-binary people in STEM. The mission started with healthcare and education, because those are the barriers that stop people before they ever touch a keyboard.
She was also just funny. She showed up to Kubernetes panels armed with stories that made the room simultaneously uncomfortable and unable to stop laughing. Her "Kubernetes clusterfuck" talks named real problems that polished conference talks refused to name. The tech community rewarded honesty even when it couldn't produce it itself.
Kris Nóva died on August 16, 2023, from injuries sustained in a climbing accident in Seattle, Washington. She was 36. The Nivenly Foundation - which she had co-founded earlier that year - published a memorial and announced stewardship plans for both Hachyderm and the Aurae project.
What she left behind isn't a mystery. It's code and governance and books and a foundation. It's the engineers who worked with her and carry different assumptions about what open source infrastructure can be. It's the 40,000 people on Hachyderm who found a place to land when another platform became hostile. It's the trans and non-binary engineers in STEM who received support from the Privilege Escalation Foundation and kept going.
She believed that the way to make tech more equitable wasn't to petition the existing power structure. It was to build parallel infrastructure that worked better - and make it genuinely open. The Nivenly Foundation, Hachyderm, Aurae, the Privilege Escalation Foundation: these were all versions of the same thesis.
Sharing knowledge and lifting everyone up creates meaningful change.- Remembered by those who worked with Kris Nóva
She was prolific, principled, and funny. She named things what they were. She climbed mountains between conference talks. She lived, as the people who knew her keep saying, very out loud.