After Charlie Kirk: If Only the Tribes Cared as Much about America's Children

In the wake of the assassination of Charlie Kirk — a brutal, tragic act that has rightfully shaken the nation — millions of American adults, including former President Donald Trump, have taken to microphones and social media, each pointing fingers, casting blame, weaponizing grief.

And yet, on the very same day, another horror unfolded — another school shooting, this time in Colorado. And while the headlines screamed about political violence, the death and trauma inflicted on schoolchildren faded into the background.

What happened to our unity about the one thing that should be beyond politics, beyond ideology — protecting our children?

Share

The attack on Charlie Kirk, like every political assassination attempt in history, deserves unequivocal condemnation. Political violence — whether from the left, the right, or any faction in between — is always wrong. Full stop. But so is the quiet, numbing violence that unfolds every month, every week, in our schools. And unlike political assassinations, school shootings are no longer "rare" or "unthinkable." They are, horrifyingly, normal.

This normalization should haunt us. Because today’s American children are growing up under the shadow of real, persistent, and personal terror. Boomers remember duck-and-cover drills, but those were mostly symbolic, a Cold War ritual. No nuclear bombs fell on Peoria or Pittsburgh. For today’s youth, though, the terror is real. Their “drills” aren’t hypothetical. They're rehearsals for events that actually do happen — far too often, in schools just like theirs.

From the first day of kindergarten to the last day of high school, America’s children participate in mass shooting drills again and again and again. And in between those drills, the real thing happens. In Sandy Hook. In Parkland. In Uvalde. In Oxford. In Santa Fe. In Columbine. In Nashville. In Colorado Springs. In too many towns and cities to name.

What are we teaching our children with this cycle?

We teach them to hide in closets and stay silent while pretending not to exist. We teach them to scan classrooms for exit routes, to question whether they’ll survive gym class. And perhaps most damning of all — we teach them that after every tragedy, adults will light candles, say prayers, and do absolutely nothing.

So they grow up knowing that their safety is not a given, that their deaths are tolerable losses in a culture war. They see the vigils and the press conferences, then watch as their leaders return to gridlock and tribal bickering.

They learn that “thoughts and prayers” are the final step, not the first.

They learn that their lives are worth less than lobbyist checks.

And when they graduate — if they do — what else could they believe but that we, the adults, failed them? That our democracy is broken? That our civil society is indifferent? That perhaps no one really cares?

Is it any wonder, then, that rates of teenage depression and suicide are rising? That so many young people feel hopeless, disconnected, and deeply disillusioned with American democracy?

We cannot afford to let this moment pass unexamined. The assassination of a public figure like Charlie Kirk should be a wake-up call about the dangerous consequences of incendiary rhetoric and a fractured national identity. But let us not miss the larger tragedy — that even as we obsess over political vengeance, we are losing an entire generation of Americans to fear, trauma, and despair.

It’s time to say enough.

Enough to the paralysis.

Enough to the excuses.

Enough to the fear of upsetting special interests and political donors.

We need a movement — not to save the Second Amendment or to abolish it, not to shift blame to mental illness or culture or video games — but to save America’s children.

A movement built not on slogans but on resolve.

A movement that recognizes that no right is more sacred than the right to live and learn without fear.

A movement that builds, finally, a civil society that works — not just for adults with platforms and podcasts, but for the kids who are just trying to make it to lunch without dying.

Let Charlie Kirk’s assassination be a call for peace — not just among political enemies, but in our schools, in our streets, and in the hearts of our young.

Because the real legacy we leave behind won’t be in tweets or talking points — it will be in the eyes of our children, who will either remember us as the generation that finally stood up… or the one that stayed sitting, while they bled.

Stand up America — for our children.

Articles

Some Reflections on 'Why' This Father's Day

Searching for Hope · Jun 15

When something terrible happens, like the shootings of two Democratic lawmakers in Minnesota, our instinct is always to ask, "Why?"

Read full story