Charlie Kirk and Me

For years, I was in Charlie Kirk’s crosshairs, having the dubious honor of being targeted on his “Professor Watch List.” This experience has been terrorizing—fraught with fear, sleepless nights, and hyper-vigilance.

Kirk’s cyberbullying has triggered death threats and vulgar emails detailing the violence I should expect from “true patriots.” Because he listed my institution’s phone number, calls came in demanding my firing—a direct threat to my economic stability.

Intimidation has become my daily companion, a traumatic presence that has damaged my mental health. We call such actions “institutionalized violence.”

Rewriting History

In the aftermath of Kirk’s assassination, it is difficult to watch his whitewashing, as he is portrayed as an exemplar of non-violent free speech. His Turning Point USA (TPUSA) organization—a nonprofit that fueled his $12 million net worth—has employed institutionalized violence to silence me and other progressive professors.

Equally troubling is the sanitizing of his image, while those who call out his words are demonized. It is not “extreme rhetoric,” as the President suggests, to call him a racist when he said racist things. Or a misogynist when he trafficked in sexist, homophobic, and transphobic language.

Or an Islamophobe when he entertained anti-Muslim sentiments. Or a purveyor of violence when he celebrated the procurers of violence.

There is no secret that, apart from his call to release the Epstein files, I vehemently disagreed with everything Kirk said. So, do I mourn his passing?

Reason for Lament

I mourn the gun violence that led to his horrific killing—a gun violence he considered acceptable because it protected his Second Amendment rights.

I mourn all of God’s creatures, bearers of the imago Dei, who senselessly perish too early.

I mourn a society where some express glee on social media over any tragic death.

I mourn that some lives are valued more than others, based on political leanings—flags lowered to half-staff for the extreme right, while others, such as moderate Democrats, don’t even merit a phone call, as in the case of Democratic Minnesota legislators killed just months earlier.

I mourn a president who incites violence against opponents while excusing the violence of his followers as understandable vigilantism.

I mourn a country that voted for a candidate who promised—and delivered—pardons for the perpetrators of the January 6th insurrection while seeking to overturn a free and open election.

I mourn those who demanded the death penalty for Kirk’s murderer when they thought, as the Governor of Utah stated, “he was not one of ours,” only to be disappointed that they could not blame an immigrant.

I mourn that when a right-wing provocateur is killed, allegedly by an even more extreme ideologue, it is Black colleges that must cancel classes and go on lockdown under threat.

I mourn a society where one side calls for vengeance, violence, and civil war while the other side keeps seeking compromise.

I mourn a culture, led by the President, that rushed to blame “radical left lunatics” (i.e., people like me) before we even knew who Kirk’s assassin was or what his motives might be. Such leadership only encourages other disturbed individuals to commit new acts of violence.

I mourn a country unwilling to protest Kirk’s receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom, even though he actively worked to end my academic freedom.

Kirk’s Legacy

Let’s be clear: Kirk was not a prophet of free speech and nonviolence. His “prove me wrong” tours were not about conversation but about spreading hatred—giving closeted racists and misogynists permission to intimidate those who fell short of white male supremacy, in hopes of reinstating white affirmative action.

Unlike Kirk, I am not interested in having my students think like me (heaven forbid). I seek more than superficial “diverse conversation.” My goal—and I suspect the goal of others on Kirk’s watchlist—is to teach students not only to think for themselves but to rationally and persuasively present their views within the matrix of ideas.

Kirk and I are not the same. He contributed to a culture of cruelty and violence, defending those who attacked liberals. I call for nonviolent resistance and for the state to punish perpetrators of political violence, regardless of their motivation.

And here is my dilemma. As a man of faith, I am told to love my enemies. I confess I cannot at this time.

Kirk unleashed so much hatred toward me, a hatred that continues even after his death. It is difficult to forgive when there is no repentance, no reconciliation, no effort to undo the damage.

Fortunately, I have all eternity to learn how to forgive the unforgivable. Fortunately, I am not God. It is from the God of the oppressed that forgiveness should be sought.

Meanwhile, may God show mercy upon him, for I cannot. Perhaps, after a few centuries in the hereafter, I may finally learn to love my enemies.