Life, Liberty and the Pursuits of Charlie Kirk

I’ve loved debate for as long as I can remember. As a kid, my mom and papa would constantly engage in political debates and commentary on world events—it became the usual way conversations unfolded in our house. And well, my dad was a Marine. ’Nuff said.

As a native South Carolinian, your assumptions about my household’s political alignment would likely be correct: everyone is a Republican. But there was always an emphasis, in every family member’s and friend’s home I grew up around, on this principle: we might argue passionately for one side, but absolutely everyone has the right to disagree.

"Tell me the other side and give me facts." That was pretty much my papa’s motto. He was a Navy submariner mustang and served 27 years, rising from E-1 to O-3, climbing through the Warrant Officer ranks along the way. Born poor to an Irish immigrant family in Georgia, he never discriminated on any basis other than personal knowledge and responsibility.

Those are the values that shaped my views. Sprinkle in the Christian foundation most directly tied to my mom and reinforced by my stepdad, and I found myself weaving those threads together with my own interests and research to become a Christian conservative.

I prefer the label "conservative" because I’m not like the Republicans who raised me. They voted with their party, no questions asked. Me? I ask a lot of questions. The beauty of the 21st century is that there are countless ways to seek answers, and in the past 15 years, commentators outside of elected office have emerged as voices of reason, offering fresh perspectives in a political circuit once blinded by party lines.

Enter, Charlie Kirk.

In 2015, I left Naval service and turned to the G.I. Bill for a college degree. That was the year Donald Trump descended the escalator, and for me, it became a year to focus on politics. The last time I had been that deeply entrenched in a presidential race was back in high school, when my classroom erupted in jeers as teachers shouted, “We got a brotha in the White House!” Yes, that really happened.

That moment sparked something in me. Even at 14, I could see something was amiss in the Democrat Party, the push for a movement that divided the nation and implored people to vote based on skin color instead of values, encouraging blind allegiance over research.

"If he ever ran for president, I’d vote for him," I remember my dad saying about Donald Trump in 2012. I was confused at the time— Trump was just a rich reality TV star, or so I thought. But the more I read and listened, the more I understood. He could break us away from the polished, pre-molded “leaders” America’s government had propped up for decades. He could be a leader for the people, by the people.

That year, I attended three rallies and even shook the would-be president’s hand (and posed for this picture). It was also the year I discovered Candace Owens and Charlie Kirk through tour videos flooding my feeds, promoting common sense to a generation of young voters who desperately needed it. I can’t say I ever met Charlie or followed his personal storyline closely, but every time I heard him call out media-driven division or stand firm on God-given rights and Constitutional freedoms, I became a bigger fan. I spoke loudly during the 2016 election and lost plenty of friends in the process.

By 2023, though, I felt hopeless about politics. The pandemic years and the George Floyd moment wore me down. I fell for some of the turmoil, posting in defense of BLM during the blackout trend, convinced it stood for unity when, in hindsight, it only deepened racial divides. I got the first Covid shot, fearful as a brand-new mother of my one-month-old catching the disease. In time, I realized I had let media fear-mongering pull me away from the values instilled by my mom, papa, and dad. I still believed Trump was what the country needed, but my hope for reason had gone silent.

Charlie changed that. His movement sparked a wave of critical thought across the globe and breathed new life into me. After the first assassination attempt on Donald Trump, I felt empowered again to speak, to honor my faith, and to embrace patriotism without fear. I wholeheartedly believe the success of the 2024 election is owed to Charlie. For the past two years, I’ve reshared his posts at least once or twice a week because I’ve never seen anyone articulate my own values so firmly, eloquently, and with so much evidence.

In an interview, Charlie once said he wanted to be remembered for his faith. I can’t think of anything that embodies him more. In the wake of his death, I’ve felt the Holy Spirit moving in me, and in the countless others reflecting on his words and the life he led.

I, and so many others, want to emulate his love for God, family, and country— in that order. Those cheering his demise have ignited a wave of people like me who will never again be silent. We are speaking louder, bolder, more faithfully in Christ’s name than ever before. Charlie would be proud to see Christians and conservatives mobilized with renewed strength; not in spite of, but because of, the evil he faced, and in honor of his compassion, respect for free speech, and love of healthy debate.

I will never stop speaking Charlie’s name, because this is a revolution. I can’t stop the tears or the pit in my stomach, but prayer has been my refuge and I know this is part of God’s plan. You can feel the revival. You can see the impact. Charlie fulfilled his legacy: the world remembers him for his faith, and that legacy is spreading like wildfire.

All I want to do is share Jesus with the world. All I want to do is speak louder about my views. Keep posting. Keep talking. Don’t worry about being "too much" because it will never be enough.

Just as our parents remember the moment America lost JFK, I hope my children will one day say: “I remember when we lost the great Charlie Kirk. That was the day my family started praying together—and we never stopped.”