The Outpouring Over Charlie Kirk RIP.
We’ve all witnessed the sudden outpouring of grief, tributes, and public mourning for Charlie Kirk. Before I get the inevitable backlash, let me be clear: the loss of any human life is a tragedy. Death, no matter the circumstances, is not something to celebrate. But that doesn’t mean we must ignore the uncomfortable truth about who a person was and the impact they had on the world around them.
Anyone who dies while promoting hatred—whether it be racism, homophobia, misogyny, or transphobia—has left behind a legacy of division. And while it’s wrong to revel in someone’s death, it’s equally wrong to pretend that their life was lived in service of goodness, compassion, or truth when the opposite is much closer to reality.
There’s an old saying: “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” I am one hundred percent against cancel culture. Silencing voices and driving them underground only makes them more dangerous; it allows toxic ideologies to fester where they cannot be challenged or confronted. We need to keep our eyes on the people who preach hate, not push them into the shadows.
But here’s my question: where is the same level of public mourning for the innocent children killed in American school shootings? Where are the candlelit vigils, the elaborate civil ceremonies, the hours of televised tributes for those whose only “crime” was going to class in a nation that has normalised mass shootings? Where is the nationwide grief for the everyday victims of America’s gun obsession?
The outpouring for Charlie Kirk feels performative—dramatic, over the top, and completely misplaced. I scrolled through social media and was struck by the sheer number of posts about him. Yet for the children lost in Uvalde, in Sandy Hook, in countless other tragedies, there was silence after the first wave of news coverage. No weeks-long grief, no cultural pause for reflection. The contrast is staggering.
Let’s get something straight: Charlie Kirk did not save lives. He didn’t cure HIV, discover a vaccine for the common cold, or dedicate his life to lifting people out of poverty. He built a platform by spreading fear, misinformation, and divisiveness. To canonise him now as if he were some kind of saint is not just dishonest, it is deeply disrespectful to those he harmed with his rhetoric.
And what exactly was “Christian” about his teachings? Jesus—let’s remember, a brown-skinned, Arabic-speaking man from the Middle East—preached love, compassion, and radical inclusion. He spent his time with outcasts, outsiders, and the marginalised: fishermen, tax collectors, a prostitute, and a ragtag group of twelve unmarried men. The essence of his teaching was simple: love thy neighbour as thyself.
Religion, like a gun, can be used for protection and peace when in the right hands. But in the wrong hands, it becomes a weapon of hate and fear. Charlie Kirk chose the latter. He wielded scripture selectively, twisting it into a justification for exclusion rather than inclusion, for condemnation rather than compassion. That is not godly—it is a betrayal of the very faith he claimed to represent.
What baffles me most is why so many people queued up to debate him, as though he were some kind of great theological authority. He wasn’t. He was poorly informed, cherry-picking passages of scripture to suit his agenda, ignoring centuries of scholarship, and offering nothing more than the shallowest of arguments. This was not a man who should be celebrated as a thinker, let alone a prophet.
I do feel for his family. Losing a loved one is painful, no matter who they were. I wish he had used his influence for good—to inspire, to uplift, to build bridges instead of walls. Instead, he chose narcissism, self-promotion, and hate. That is the legacy he leaves behind.
The most ungodly thing of all is an ill-informed Christian who believes their interpretation of the Bible gives them licence to judge others. Freedom of speech must exist for both sides, but so too must accountability. Words matter. Influence matters. And when someone spends their life spreading division, we cannot in good conscience rewrite history just because they are no longer here.
Yes, love thy neighbour. Yes, treat others with compassion. But let us also extend that compassion to the innocent children gunned down in schools, to the victims of bigotry, to those whose lives were cut short by violence. If Charlie Kirk is to receive public mourning, then surely those who lived with love in their hearts, rather than hate, deserve at least as much.
2Shades Magazine 