Charlie Kirk’s murder was horrifying, tragic, and unacceptable. Violence of this kind has no place in a civil society, and the grief of his family, friends, and community deserves full acknowledgment.
But let’s be clear: erasing who Kirk was and the impact of his words does no service to truth—or to the work of justice.
Charlie Kirk made a name for himself as a combative figure. He spread rhetoric that demeaned women, mocked immigrants, and vilified Black and Brown communities. He glorified guns and leaned into a politics of confrontation, not care. That history matters. To paint him only as a dialogue-seeker or a curious conversationalist, as some have done, is to willfully ignore the deep harm his words and influence caused.
As a liberal university president—or anyone in leadership—it is not enough to mourn the violence without also naming the context. Political violence is wrong, full stop. But so is the normalization of verbal and ideological violence against the most vulnerable. Both erode democracy. Both destroy community trust. Both make campuses less safe.
The truth is this: civility is not neutrality. To call for “certain types of conversation” without recognizing who gets silenced, targeted, or erased in those conversations is itself a form of privilege. White men with platforms are more often extended humanity in death than the people they spent years dehumanizing in life. That disparity is part of the story, too.
When I read these words, I felt doubly struck—not only by the horror of Kirk’s murder, but by the fact that they came from the president of Wesleyan University, my alma mater. Wesleyan prides itself on being progressive AF, yet this response felt incomplete, almost sanitized. Yes, violence must be condemned—full stop. But to omit Kirk’s own rhetoric, his years of targeting women, people of color, and LGBTQ+ communities creates a dangerous false equivalence. A statement like this, from the leader of a so-called liberal institution, reinforces the very privilege and blindness Kirk himself wielded. And that it was posted on September 11th is just wow.
Notably, the only piece this whole year from the current Wesleyan president regarding Black and Brown struggles was published on MLK Day. The only note on women this year was an obituary for a professor. Most of the notes from the President are congratulating our sports teams. (I mean Go Wes, but also seriously?) In a year as charged with abusive policies and attacks against over half the Wesleyan population, this omission is alarming. Highlighting King’s visits and speeches at the school is the kind of lip service that white leaders need to stop performing. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was not about silence: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
He was not about those in comfortable positions ignoring abuses. That is why he came to Wesleyan. He was not about sanitizing those who would do harm in the name of preserving comfort. The hypocrisy is loud. And at a time when universities are being called out for failing to reflect the diversity of their students—in who leads, in what is taught, in what voices are amplified—this is a moment to examine both who is leading Wesleyan and what we actually stand for. Because this silence is not it.
So yes, mourn this loss. Yes, condemn this murder. But let us also be brave enough to hold complexity: to admit that Kirk’s legacy was not just “engagement”—it was antagonism and harm. And to recognize that real justice, in Libra season or any other, means facing the full weight of the scales: the tragedy of violence, and the tragedy of words that wound, spread, and incite.
Silence is violence was a key saying during my time at Wes.
If we are serious about healing and democracy, and equality and change, we cannot afford selective memory by those in positions of leadership.
Addendum: Beyond Silence—Campus Safety, Education, and Accountability
A Black university student was found hanging from a tree in Mississippi just a week after the events I’ve discussed—and in this cultural climate, not a word on campus safety came from the president. Silence from leadership in moments like this is deadly.
Recently, the school paper highlighted an anti-chalk policy still in effect from 2002. It was created to stop hateful messages from being scrawled across campus. But here’s the question: why are we ignoring the issues of hatred at a school—a progressive one, no less? Leadership turning a blind eye doesn’t make these problems disappear. Maybe that’s the point.
Unfortunately, while this event may have temporarily created peace between students and administrators, many still believed that President Bennet wasn’t assessing the true issue at hand. – From The Argives: Chalking Up Trouble Since 2002, Wesleyan Argus, September 26, 2025
Sadly, our own campus has experienced gun violence—specifically, male violence against women. In 2009, Johanna Justin-Jinich was shot seven times by a stalker while working at the campus bookstore. Two years earlier, she had taken out a restraining order against her killer. Let that tragic reality sink in. In 2024, a classmate wrote movingly about how that time still affected him—but he left out one key fact: it was male violence against women.
With “successful” Wesleyan alumni in the news recently for abusive managerial practices, domestic violence, racism, sexual assault, and other harms, it’s time for proactive leadership. At a liberal school that often honors MLK Jr., why aren’t courses on managing anger, power, and healthy relationships mandatory? Why aren’t mental health, stress management, and healing practices integrated into the curriculum? Evidence shows meditation, hiking, and restorative programs improve behavior, reduce stress, and increase learning outcomes—yet they’re rarely implemented at higher education institutions. Meanwhile, to do so would be totally Wes. Priorities.
Education should teach more than a narrow Western curriculum. A school that Ram Dass attended could focus on the heart, on love, unity, and healing. Wesleyan, as a top institution, has the chance to lead—to stand for equity, safety, and real personal growth.
MLK Jr. was never about empty words or platitudes. A university that honors figures who incite harm, or that fails to advocate for students under attack, perpetuates injustice. Our president and leadership must confront this dissonance.
The time to do better is always now, as King reminded. Women, Immigrants, Black and Brown, LGBTQ+ students and alumni, and of course, also European-American male students, deserve leadership that protects, educates, and inspires—not silence.
Leah Gillis is a member of the class of 1996 can be reached at thediamondisyou@gmail.com.
Leave a Reply