Charlie Kirk’s Death Is a Mirror — And We Don’t Like What We See

I sat down with Cenk Uygur and Shemeka Michelle to debate whether America’s political speech has become political warfare.

Welcome back to The Red Letter.

Ever since conservative activist Charlie Kirk’s tragic death at 31, I’ve felt something I’ve never quite experienced before: every conversation with friends, acquaintances, family, even strangers circles back to him. His death has become a mirror, reflecting insecurities, resentments, and anger in everyone I speak to.

After I published a piece last week about interviewing Kirk, distant relatives I hadn’t spoken to in years came out of the woodwork to chastise me.

The story I told was about one of my last interviews with him, when a close friend of Kirk’s tried to provoke me by sending over passages from his book. In them, he argued that women over 30 who aren’t married are essentially expired. At the time, I was 37, single, and childless. I saw it for what it was, a direct jab.

And still, I defended my right to interview him. Open dialogue matters and I aim to break down information silos. He had the right to make his arguments, just as I had the right to challenge them. And Kirk wasn’t just another pundit, he was a key advisor to Donald Trump during the campaign, a rising MAGA star who helped take down establishment figures like RNC chairwoman Ronna Romney McDaniel.

But instead of respect, I was mocked. One family member dismissed my work, sneering that only “middle-aged women and soy boys” would read it. It triggered memories of the misogyny I grew up with, both overt and subtle. It reminded me that simply existing as a single, independent, and outspoken woman defies the expectations of people like Kirk and his followers.

Here’s the irony: I’ve always been drawn to difference. Different perspectives, cultures, races, choices. It’s why I became a foreign correspondent for POLITICO Europe in Brussels. It’s why I chased a fugitive in Cuba trying to score that world exclusive at the New York Post. It’s why I poured years into exposing corruption at the highest levels of power — like the Epstein case.

But my independence, being a single woman without children, still makes people uncomfortable. It doesn’t fit into the narrow box Kirk and his followers want women placed in. Even here, on a platform I find more inclusive than most, one commentator called me “pathetic” for not focusing on extending my bloodline.

After his death, a Black friend of mine told me bluntly: “Now you know what it’s like for us. Our kids die all the time and nobody cares.” She reminded me that Kirk once called Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. “awful.” I had forgotten. It struck me how every person Kirk offended carried one line in their memory — a podcast clip, a campus speech, a sound bite that cut deep.

Meanwhile, conservative members of my family told me they feel under siege for their beliefs, worried about their jobs, their safety, their very place in this country. One relative bristled that I described Kirk’s wife, Erika, as a “trophy wife.” I hadn’t meant it as a dig, but I was still accused of being blind to their world. Maybe they’re right.

Kirk’s death has exposed every insecurity I carry, even for my own safety. I know what it’s like to live with harassment. I can feel how divided America has become, and it’s terrifying.

That’s why the conversation about Kirk’s life and his death matters, even if it provokes people. He stirred rage, devotion, and despair, often at the same time. And the stakes are bigger than him: one in three US college students now say it’s acceptable to block political speech with violence, according to a new survey by the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression. It forces the question: when political speech becomes political warfare, where do we draw the line?

To wrestle with it, I brought together two strong voices from opposite ends of the political spectrum who almost never agree:

• Cenk Uygur
  — progressive commentator, founder of The Young Turks, relentless critic of the right’s weaponization of fear and anger.

• Shemeka Michelle — conservative commentator, unapologetic cultural critic, and a voice challenging both the left and the establishment right.

We debated about whether today’s rhetoric is just passionate political speech or whether it’s creating the conditions for violence. And I ask them directly: do they see it as their responsibility to tone it down?

You might be surprised by what they said.