The power of Erika Kirk.

First, writing this post will probably be controversial despite its intent. That is our world, but I ask you, dear reader, to set aside the intense bias built into your person to survive the current political turmoil. To my blue friends, I am not here to support Charlie Kirk. I especially found his disregard for highly qualified women of color poorly constructed and dangerous. This year alone, 300,000 women of color have been removed from the workforce, and this isn’t a reflection of merit. It's culture, and his words bled into other biases against immigrants and the queer community. Many now fear their safety in this country. And to my friends on the right, I am also not here to support his murder or the embarrassing reaction of many Democrats who had the audacity to celebrate. Multiple polls in September 2025 indicate that liberals are more likely than conservatives to say that political violence can sometimes be justified. Though red on blue violence is far more prominent, being okay with violence is wrong.

No, this post is to hone in on one universal truth pouring through our airwaves. Words have consequence.

But the consequences of words, if we shape and bend them carefully and intentionally, can sometimes be a beautiful thing.

Erika Kirk’s speeches in general have left some of us moved, some concerned, and some indifferent. With piercing blue eyes and a tremor of hostility, her first public speech following the death of her husband radiated vengeance. Relationships with friends and family on the other side of the aisle are already delicate, no matter the level of love that binds them together. It felt as though this woman had no idea she carried a blow torch in her voice, inconsiderate of the fragility that is our differing views as Americans, a thing made of thin, flammable paper. I expect our president to incinerate love and togetherness, and while Erika is a new voice, she stands on his platform, clothed in brightly colored blouses, long blonde hair draping down her back. There is nothing more powerful than the making of a martyr’s wife, especially one that is stunning and freshly wounded.

I'll admit now, in hindsight, of course she was angry. In her first real public moment as the widow of Charlie Kirk, did I honesty expect her to speak with grace and understanding? She’d just looked down at her husband, his neck incinerated and her children fatherless. I imagine she felt the anger and loss the children of the Minnesota senator and her husband felt, only she had a microphone against her lips and national pressure on her back to be angry, all while going through the stages of grief.

Following the murder, posts crowded social platforms – and they were abhorrent from both sides. Morbid far left posts seemed to shrug Charlie Kirk’s murder off with a “he had it coming” attitude, or worse - celebrate it. Far right posts declared war and violence against entire groups of people despite the murderer being one person, ironically from the same people who flippantly wrote off the Minnesota murders. Both sides dangerously labeled the other, leaving all of us in mutual fear of the other side. I genuinely believe in that moment, we, as a country, cracked. And not a light fracture, a colossal and deep break through the core of our country. I turned on my app that blocks access to social media and tried to really, honestly tune everyone out.

Despite my efforts, the days following Charlie Kirk’s funeral spilled into every open crevice of the internet, but it was not because of inflammatory words from angry politicians. It was from the words of Erika Kirk. Her words soft yet powerful, her demeanor mourning but strong, preached a sense of doing good to one another. Gasps roared in disbelief she would forgive such prolific act of hate, in a time anger is en vogue. And for this one moment, she has become the embodiment of what I believe the real Christ would regard as Christian. She spoke in a way I believe my late mother-in-law would approve as Christian, a woman whose life, ironically, was strictly built on devout Catholicism and the Democratic principles of loving your neighbor and helping those in need. Where I thought the funeral would erupt a national moment for revenge, she surprised me. No, everyone isn’t holding hands in a collective purple circle, but for a minute there was a shift. People on both sides of the aisle were posting her words – not Trump’s, not Vance’s, not the other politicians who called for retaliation. Her's.

Though I’m not a pageant girl, I knew many growing up and in college. Many were gracious and poised, many were vain and inauthentic. I think she’s the former. Her words about forgiveness and husbands respecting their wives as a team member – not an employee or servant – were on-brand for the type of good merit you’d hope they’d crown. She calls hers an Ephesians marriage; I call mine a 50/50 marriage built on partnership. Either way the message is the same – respect and love one another. Be one team. There are men out there who needed to hear this from a powerful voice on their side of the aisle and as a result, they are better husbands. She claims Charlie Kirk set out to help broken men, and you don’t have to like everything her husband stood for to agree that many Western men are broken. But maybe the voice broken men needed to hear wasn’t Charlie Kirk’s. Maybe, through her husband, it's Erika’s.

And I hope I never regret saying that.

While the differences between me and this woman probably spill off the page, the fundamental similarities are there. We love our husbands. We love our children. Though her definition of family is more rigid and bound to a specific make-up, mine loose and inclusive to anyone you deem family, we both prioritize family as an anchor – she in Christianity and me in the Golden Rule. We both believe forgiveness and grace are needed to forge a more beautiful future. It was her speech, the standout speech across public forums, that gave me hope.