Let Men be Men: A Reflection on Charlie Kirk

In the wake of the assassination of Charlie Kirk, like many around the world, I’ve been deeply disturbed. I cannot think of another event in recent history that has so shaken me, and those around me, which says a lot considering I’m not currently living in the U.S.

There is so much to reflect on in this moment: freedom of speech, the very real spiritual warfare gripping our world, the radicalization of youth, the role of social media, and the decay of civil discourse. But what I find myself pondering most is the crisis of the masculine voice in the West.

The attack on Charlie Kirk was not just an attack on conservative or Christian values—it was an attack on masculinity itself. Having followed Charlie since my college years (2014–2017), what I admired most was the firmness of his voice. He had the courage to speak clearly, even when it was unpopular. He drew lines in the sand. He called out truth from lies, virtue from vice, right from wrong.

In our relativistic world, that kind of clarity is offensive. It’s labeled as rigid, unkind, right-wing, extremist, even dangerous. Yet, it’s that very clarity that reveals love; the kind of love that refuses to let others settle for pretty lies that wreck eternal havoc on souls.

Charlie always spoke with respect, but never diluted the truth. That is what made him a man in the truest sense. True masculinity involves setting a standard, upholding it, and guarding the vulnerable from injustice. When a man abandons this responsibility, he not only fails to become who he is called to be, but also leaves others exposed to the devil prowling about the world, seeking the ruin of souls.

I remember a moment early in my relationship with my husband, when I saw this kind of authentic and powerful masculine leadership firsthand. While were still just friends, he invited me to a dinner with a group of acquaintances he had met during a summer mission trip. Halfway through, a woman we’ll call Lucia arrived unexpectedly. She wasn’t Catholic and didn’t know most of us. 

Almost immediately, she began speaking loudly and proudly about her love for reggaeton music and its sexual overtones. Unprompted, she launched into explicit details about her sex life. In typical feminist fashion, she proudly boast about her "freedom" in promiscuity and lust.

I was stunned, silently praying for the words to respond. Normally I’m quick to speak, unafraid to challenge what needs to be challenged. But this time, I hesitated, not knowing the right words in Spanish to speak to this delicate situation.

Before I could say anything, my husband calmly asked her, “Do you really think that’s the best thing for you?”

The table went quiet. Lucia was surprised, but her grin showed she was clearly hoping to provoke. She launched into a speech about sexual liberation, one-night stands, and the illusion of limitless freedom. My husband didn’t argue—he asked more questions. He allowed her to talk, following the conversation to the point where her logic inevitably unraveled. Then, he said with sincerity and strength, “I think you’re wrong. You’re not really free. You should stop sleeping around.”

Some might say his words were too harsh or lacked compassion. However, I believe they were truly loving. Today, many speak of charity while ignoring truth. Yet, the truth without charity is cruelty, and charity without truth is a lie. Especially as women, we can fall into the temptation to preserve “peace” (in the worldly sense) at all costs—even at the cost of truth. However, true communion, real relationship, genuine love, cannot be built on vice. It must be grounded in truth.

Scripture reminds us: there is a time for everything. A time to be silent. A time to listen. And a time to speak. As I reflect on that dinner conversation, and on the many public debates Charlie Kirk courageously entered, I hear the harsh love of men who refuse to lie. Men who speak hard truths because they will the good of their neighbor. Men who believe that virtue—not vice—is the path to joy, and who believe others are worthy of that joy too.

In pondering Charlie’s legacy and my husband’s leadership, I’m more convicted than ever: we need men to rise up and be the leaders, protectors, and above all, fathers, our society so desperately needs. After decades of feminist ideology seeking to silence the masculine voice and strip it of its rightful role in the family and society, we are starving for men who speak with clarity, guard what is good, and refuse to cower under cultural pressure.

Tragedies often awaken a desire to act—heck, I’m returning to this space, to share my two cents. The conviction this tragedy has brought out of my heart: it’s time to let men be men again. It’s time to restore them to their rightful place in our homes and in the world. For too long, we’ve asked men to turn their volume down, to make space, to sit back while lies go unchallenged and steal far too many souls from the Body of Christ.

Despite what the culture insists—that women are the ones being silenced—the truth is visible in every headline and photo flooding our feeds: a young man, a husband, a father, shot in the neck for speaking truth.