Charlie Kirk, the Man in the Arena

“The more a society drifts away from the truth, the more it will hate those that speak it.” Charlie James Kirk knew the cost of telling the truth. Without fear, he paid with his life. He was 31.

On Wednesday, Sept. 10, at 4:40 p.m., President Donald Trump announced on Truth Social that the “Legendary” Kirk, the conservative activist and Turning Point USA co-founder, was assassinated during a speaking event at Utah Valley University.

In this world, he leaves behind his wife, Erika, and their two children. Every day, his son and daughter will wake up without their father; every day Erika will wake up without her husband; and every day, they will wake up in a better country because of him.

As will I. I first met Charlie at a Turning Point USA conference in 2018. At the time, I was a student at UC Berkeley and involved in the College Republican club, and I asked Charlie to come host an event on Berkeley’s campus. Charlie was already speaking at colleges all across the country, but it was a big ask because Antifa riots had laid siege to one of our events the year prior.

Charlie did not hesitate. I believe if we could have flown back across the country and hosted the event that night, Charlie would have done so. He not only replied with an emphatic yes, but he said the team at Turning Point USA was willing to provide whatever we needed to soldier on.

For months, Charlie, the TPUSA team, and myself drew up plans for the event. Charlie had the idea of bringing a young, self-starting political commentator named Candace Owens. The event was packed—packed with patriots inside and protestors outside.

But before the event started, there was a scare. Security had stopped an individual at the metal detectors with a knife. That was not going to stop Charlie and Candace from going on stage. They hadn’t come all that way for nothing, event security had done its job, and the message—that America was worth fighting for, even dying for—must be spread.

The boy from the Chicago suburbs did not die in the streets of Kabul or Fallujah, but he died fighting for his country. That the fighting ground was the quad at Utah Valley University makes little difference. Charlie knew the fight for our nation’s survival was being fought on our home soil. He died daring you to change his mind.

Young Americans had no better advocate for the issues they care about and the challenges they face than Charlie. He was able to articulate the deep anxieties of a generation of Americans uncertain whether the American Dream has already escaped their grasp. They live wondering if they’ll ever find a spouse, ever have a family, ever afford a home, or ever show up to work today and find out they’ve been replaced by migrant labor or been fired for a tweet posted when they were 14 years old.

When certain figures on the Right were quick to dismiss these young people as “entitled” or “snowflakes,” Charlie listened. When they were in need of correction, Charlie stood his ground and offered it in the spirit of civilized debate. More than anything, he learned.

And Charlie took their concerns to the top, cultivating relationships with President Trump and our nation’s political leaders and changing the way conservatives and the Republican Party seek to address the issues that will not just define America’s future but ensure it has a future at all.

In making their voices heard, Charlie galvanized a generation of young Americans, encouraged them to seize a critical moment in our politics, and created a movement that has changed the course of our nation’s history. This is the most valuable asset the conservative movement has today: thousands upon thousands of young Americans who are willing, able, and ready to save the country.

I last spoke to Charlie in person when we were both on the floor of the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee last year. 

Charlie had seen that I was at the Butler rally just days prior, where the president miraculously survived an assassin’s bullet, and he asked how I was doing.

I replied that I was relieved to look up at the president’s box and see him sitting there with a bandaged ear.

When I asked how Charlie was doing, given his personal relationship with the president, he looked out to the crowd with a hopeful gleam in his eye and said, “God has a plan far beyond our understanding.”

Charlie Kirk was the man in the arena. He strove valiantly, he erred, and came up short. He knew great enthusiasm and great devotions. He spent himself for a worthy cause. His place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat. In the end, his face was marred by dust and sweat and blood.

On Sept. 10, 2025, Charlie left the arena and entered eternal life. Let us take up his cause. Let his death be a turning point.