I AM (not) CHARLIE KIRK.

I am Charlie Kirk.

The phrase has quickly become a catch-all display of performative Conservative virtue signaling, lobbed indiscriminately into social media comment sections, affixed to pickup truck flags, and emblazoned across t-shirts.

I’ve invited people to help me understand what they mean by the now ubiquitous sentence whenever it shows up; precisely what statement they’re making, the specific cause they’re claiming solidarity with, the particular people they’re declaring war on.

I’ve asked them who they are claiming to be when they claim to be him, given the antagonistic, mean-spirited, and dehumanizing body of work he left.

The only responses I receive are a toxic cocktail of culture war posturing, personal threats, phobic prejudice, anti-woke slurs, and Evangelical religious-speak, which, sadly, makes their performative rally cry of affinity with Kirk’s messaging quite accurate.

I think those of us who see the dangerous code language of these words, the mob mentality it creates, and the dog whistle they represent, the rest of us need to clearly define ourselves, as well.

I am not Charlie Kirk.

I believe empathy matters, that our ability to stay soft-hearted in a world that increasingly rewards cynicism and cruelty is the greatest human aspiration; that if we lose compassion for people who are hurting, we squander our time here.

I believe that immigrants make us great, that the voices and the visions of people who have chosen to live out a portion of their individual narratives here contribute so much to the depth and breadth of our collective story; that we need to provide safe harbor for refugees, seekers, and dreamers.

I believe diversity makes us better, that this nation becomes a more beautiful and vibrant version of itself, the bigger our table becomes, the more hands we allow to renovate us, the more disparate voices we let have the microphone.

I believe that whiteness is not supreme, that there is nothing found in pigmentation or bloodline that elevates one group of human beings above another, that there are no birthrights to competency, decency, or worth.

I believe women aren’t inferior, that we need the full, glorious expanse of female wisdom, creativity, and energy now more than we ever have; that we need women in the highest levels of leadership and influence.

I believe queer people aren’t broken, that they are fearfully and wonderfully made, that they are not a danger or a threat, that they do not need to be changed or saved or renovated; that they merit our fiercest defense and our greatest respect.

I believe Christians should actually love their neighbors, and not just their white Republican neighbors, but their immigrant neighbors, their queer neighbors, their black and brown and Muslim and Atheist and Democrat neighbors.

I believe the world is bigger than America, that we are part of a single, interconnected community calling this planet home; that we are tethered together in ways that defy the borders and barriers we create.

Our nation is in such pain right now; so damaged, so divided, so in need of declarations that affirm the worth of every human being, that refuse to traffic in phobia and prejudice. We do not need any more empty battle posturing that perpetuates violence as a response to violence.

I’m tired of antagonistic movements that run on exclusion and eradication.
I’m sick of public bullying disguised as substantive debate.
I’m exhausted by coercive religion masked as sincere faith.
I’m worn out by an all-or-nothing tribalism that refuses to see the humanity of one’s neighbor.

I am a person of deep empathy.
I am a human being who wants good things for everyone.
I am someone who will not declare war on strangers.
I am not going to abandon kindness.
I am not going to give up on a more perfect union.
I am not playing gatekeeper of blessings.
I am not using someone’s death to nurture more violence.

So, no, I am not Charlie Kirk.