Charlie Kirk was no friend to the LGBTQ+ community. At. All. He mocked our identities, belittled our struggles, and repeatedly stoked fear about transgender people. He opposed marriage equality and railed against Pride events,
He weaponized the language of “protecting children” He had the gall to say that I, a gay man, want to corrupt children.
I loathed him. I thought his politics were toxic, especially for the young people who flocked to his rallies and consumed his soundbites online.
And yet, at this time, I find myself grieving. Not for his ideas. Not for the movement he helped build. Not for the unmitigated hate he directed at me and all those in my community. But for the fact that his life was ended with a gun. For his family. For his friends. For the undeniable fact that no one in this country should have to fear being shot for what they say or believe.
This is not right. At. All.,
We can’t pretend to be shocked. Political violence in the United States is no longer an outlier. It is embedded in our DNA in 2025. Last summer, Donald Trump survived an assassin’s bullet. This year, two state legislators in Minnesota were shot; one didn’t survive.
On January 6, 2021, violence erupted at the U.S. Capitol, leaving bodies and broken bones in its wake. More than 1,500 rioters were set free without consequence, their violence essentially normalized.
School shootings? We barely flinch. Each one gets a day or two of headlines before we move on, while lawmakers shrug at passing meaningful gun reform. School shootings have viciously become another form of political violence.
That’s because the debate twists into a grotesque distortion that somehow has gone from the focus no longer on the endless stream of murdered children but on blaming transgender people or arguing whether they should be allowed to own guns.
The cruelty of that pivot is breathtaking, barbaric, and sinful.
And here we are again. Another shooting. Another life ended. Another story that will just become another data point in America’s endless cycle of violence. It will be yet another addition to the time capsule of 2025, when political violence continued to escalate. It didn’t start this year, but it’s festering like never before.
And it’s going to get worse for all of us. Anyone who wants to protest, attend a rally, speak at a public political event, campaign for office. Most will be afraid. Who will be next? Will I be in danger? Will you be in danger? Should I keep away, not say anything, retreat to the confines of my home?
Charlie Kirk founded Turning Point USA, a movement designed to radicalize young conservatives. But “turning point” is an apt name for our national moment too. The guns in campaign ads, the rhetoric spewing vitriol, the endless social media hate posts and memes — none of it is a deviation anymore. It’s the norm.
It’s in the polluted air we breathe. It’s come to the point of “So what?” Why? Because, by now, violence is baked in.
Some might hope Kirk’s death would be a moment to pause, to step back, to take a breath. To send all the fighters back to their corners for a moment of reflection. But that won’t happen.
We’re too far gone. In a week or two, we’ll move on. Nothing will be toned down. If anything, his death will fuel more hate, more conspiracy theories, more people pointing fingers at a bogeyman of their choice.
If you were watching on social media after Kirk was killed, you know that the flames of hate were being stoked in both directions.
That’s the irony of this tragedy. Kirk himself was speaking about a “transgender shooter” when he was killed. He was asked, “Do you know how many transgender Americans have been mass shooters over the last 10 years?” Kirk responded, “Too many.”
The hate already levied against trans people is relentless, and this will almost certainly make it worse. I fear for the trans community, because instead of addressing the real problem, the easy accessibility of guns, the toxic rhetoric that paints opponents as enemies to be destroyed.
I loathed Charlie Kirk. But I did not wish him dead. I do not wish death on any of my enemies. Our enemies. We don’t call them adversaries anymore. They’re enemies. It truly is the “Department of War” everywhere you turn.
I don’t wish death even to the ones who despise me for being who I am. Because the second we start celebrating violence, we have lost the only thing that keeps a democracy alive: the ability to fight, argue, debate, and even hate each other, without killing each other.
Democracy is hanging by a thread, and political violence will destroy it further.
But America in 2025 doesn’t seem to learn lessons anymore. We dig in deeper. Every act of violence becomes a reason for more violence. It’s a cycle, and we’ve crossed so far on the bridge to hell, with the road back to peace barely visible on the horizon.
The question now is: when will it end? When will it finally go too far?
I fear the answer.
Charlie Kirk’s death is one more brutal reminder that this path leads only to more funerals, more broken families, more despair. If we don’t stop, if we don’t collectively say “no more,” then we are surrendering to the abyss.
We must try harder. To be better people to each other. To recognize that our enemies are still human beings. To resist the urge to answer hate with more hate. But I honestly don’t think it’s possible at this point.
Charlie Kirk’s death will not be the last. It portends the future of this country, one soaked in more blood.
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This article originally appeared on Advocate: Charlie Kirk’s murder proves America has crossed a bridge to hell, with the road to peace not on the horizon