On Charlie Kirk’s Death

Charlie Kirk was killed while speaking at Utah Valley University on September 10, 2025. However you felt about his ideas, that sentence is heavy. A family lost someone. Students and staff saw a life end at a campus event. That is not how public debate should look in a country that believes in free speech.

In the hours after a tragedy, the internet fills with hot takes. Some people cheer. Others gloat. Some turn the moment into proof that their opponents are monsters. None of that helps. It pushes us farther apart and it forgets the most basic truth. A person is gone. People who loved him are grieving. Bystanders will carry the memory of that day for a long time.

Most Americans want something very simple. They want to argue hard about issues and then go home safe. They want to attend a talk without worry. They want to raise kids who can hear a viewpoint they dislike and still walk out of the room with dignity. That is the standard we should expect from a healthy society.

Polarization makes that standard feel out of reach. It turns people into symbols. Symbols are easy to mock and hate. People are not. You can oppose Charlie Kirk’s politics and still feel grief and anger that he was shot. You can defend open debate without endorsing every speech. This is not a contradiction. It is what respect looks like.

When we forget the person behind the position, it becomes easier to justify cruel words. Cruel words make it easier to justify cruel acts. That is the slope we are on when we treat politics like team sports. If our website is about bridging cultural divides, then our work is to push against that slope in small and steady ways.

Start with your own habits. Slow down before you post. Ask if what you are sharing names the problem or only names an enemy. Listen to someone you usually tune out. You do not need to agree. You do need to understand what they fear and what they hope for. Call out dehumanizing language on your own side. It will be uncomfortable. It is also where trust begins.

There is also room for courage from leaders and institutions. Hosts can set ground rules for events. Speakers can model how to argue without contempt. Media can choose headlines that inform rather than inflame. None of this fixes everything. It does set a tone that tells young people this is a place where words are strong and people are safe.

We can hold firm beliefs and still hold on to each other’s humanity. That is not soft. It is the hard daily work that keeps a pluralistic society alive. Let this be one of those moments when we remember that. Not as a slogan, but as a habit we build into our classrooms, our communities, and our own conversations.

Charlie Kirk’s death should not become just another flash of outrage that fades by the weekend. It can be a lasting reminder to see the person before the politics. It can be the push we need to protect spaces for debate and to reject any story that says our neighbors are our enemies. If we choose that path, we honor both free speech and human dignity. That is a future worth working toward.

Finding Common Ground in Politics

Politics is often described in colors, red states, blue states, partisan maps shaded like battlefields. It’s easy to forget that beneath those labels are people, not just positions. If you look only at headlines and social media feeds, you’d think Americans agree on nothing. But that’s not the full story. When you peel back the slogans, surveys and lived experiences reveal that people across the political spectrum actually share more in common than we might think.

Take family, for example. Whether someone identifies as conservative, progressive, or somewhere in between, most people want the same thing: for their kids to grow up safe, healthy, and with opportunities to thrive. Parents may disagree on school policies or education funding, but at the core is the same worry—the desire to give the next generation a better life.

Or consider work. Polling shows that Americans, regardless of party, believe in the dignity of work and the importance of fair wages. A conservative factory worker in Ohio and a progressive barista in California might see the economy through different lenses, but both are concerned about the rising cost of living, about healthcare bills, and about whether hard work will really pay off.

Even on issues that appear sharply divided, there’s often unexpected overlap. Take healthcare: most Americans, left and right, believe prescription drug prices are too high. Or climate change: while debates rage over causes and solutions, polls show that majorities across the political spectrum agree that clean air, clean water, and responsible stewardship of land are values worth protecting. We may disagree on the path, but the destination looks strikingly similar.

Why, then, does it feel like we are worlds apart? A big reason is that politics has become less about policies and more about identity. Media outlets, campaign strategies, and even social media algorithms benefit from emphasizing conflict, not commonality. Outrage spreads faster than nuance. And so we end up seeing caricatures of one another rather than the deeper truths about what we actually care about.

But here’s the encouraging part: when people step away from those echo chambers, respect and understanding become possible again. Studies have found that when Republicans and Democrats sit down and actually talk about their values, they are often surprised by how much agreement they discover. Shared experiences, raising a family, facing medical bills, caring for aging parents, worrying about the cost of housing, cut across political lines.

The real challenge isn’t that we have nothing in common; it’s that we’ve forgotten how to see it. Respect doesn’t mean abandoning your beliefs or pretending differences don’t exist. It means recognizing the humanity in someone else’s story. It means listening not to rebut, but to understand.

If there’s one lesson to take into the future of our politics, it’s that our similarities are not erased by our differences. They coexist. And when we choose to treat one another with respect, those similarities shine through, quietly reminding us that we are not enemies, but neighbors.

Bridging Belief: Our First Event

Cultural Connections’ first event concluded on Sunday. Our organization brought together people of 6 different religions and of all ages together to have meaningful conversations bridge the gaps that exist in our society. The great weather, gorgeous landscape, and positive vibes all contributed to really making this event a great one. Although I personally had pretty low expectations, our participants spoke and learned for almost 2 hours (and surely could’ve gone on for many more) about issues and topics from religion to artificial intelligence. This post serves as an introduction to these events that we hope to continue in the future, and I’ll be outlining a few of the most important takeaways from the event for those who couldn’t attend.

Takeaway 1: The Real Root of Religious Conflict

One of the biggest ideas that emerged from Sunday was the fact that religious conflict doesn't actually begin in pews, temples, or mosques. Politics is where it all begins. People from six different religions shared their stories with us during the event. Their similarities rather than differences in beliefs were what caught my attention. When discussing the value of kindness and charity, a Christian grandmother and a Muslim teen found themselves nodding in agreement. When a Hindu girl and a Jewish man saw how similar their treatment of elders was, they both laughed. People were inquisitive rather than hostile, even when discussing theology in greater detail.

But everyone seemed to agree that how religion is used is what separates us, not religion itself. "People use the term zionism as a code that refers to Judaism and often associate Netanyahu's policies with the religion as a whole," stated one Jewish participant. I was deeply affected by that. Because division garners votes or clicks, leaders and media personalities all too frequently exaggerate our differences. Even though the real experience of sitting across from someone of a different faith is nothing like the fear we've been taught, those stories eventually begin to feel like the truth.

Nobody was arguing over who was "right" or attempting to convert others at our gathering. Instead, they talked about rituals, family customs, and spiritual uncertainties, the kinds of things that don't make news but foster genuine understanding. Perhaps the problem lies not in religion itself, but rather in the way religion is used to create divisions between "us" and "them." And those lines begin to fade when we actually spend time together.

Takeaway #2: Broader Non-Religious Dialogue

One of the most surprising and honestly refreshing parts of the event was how much the conversation flowed off-script. We had some guiding questions to spark discussion around mutual understanding when it comes to faith, but within minutes, groups were already taking the conversation to totally different places. And that's exactly what made it feel real.

Instead of rigidly sticking to one topic, people let the conversation go where it wanted to. At one table, and older participant shared that when he was young, the biggest fear of his was being drafted into war, Vietnam to be particular. He said it genuinely moved him to hear that today's teens are stressed about things like getting into college or dealing with online pressure. In his words, "It's just a whole different world." That simple exchange opened up a thoughtful discussion about generational shifts, values, and what we can all learn from one anther.

At another table, what began as a comparison of religions somehow ended up in a full conversation about AI! These weren't easy topics, but that's what made them so interesting and engaging. There was no need to be an expert. People just brought their thoughts, questions, and curiosity.

What made these moments so special is that they reflected the exact kind of space we're trying to create with Cultural Connections, not just a "religious dialogue" event, but a space for meaningful conversation across all kinds of differences, whether generational, ideological, and even technological.

Takeaway #3: The Sheer Personal Impact These Events Can Have

What really got to me was the way people felt after the event, rather than even the conversations themselves. Everyone who took part was truly moved. You could hear it in their voices and see it in their faces. The majority arrived anticipating a lighthearted Sunday conversation, but instead left with something that was obviously important to them, something they were unaware they were lacking.

After only half an hour of conversation, one woman actually turned to face the person she had been paired with and said, "You know, I consider us close friends now." They had already decided to get together for dinner later that week. Another group passed around phones to share contact info, not out of politeness but because they wanted to keep the conversation going. 

This connection doesn't happen every day. It's not common. And that's precisely the point. The fact that everyone left with a desire for more indicates that most people's lives don't currently include these kinds of spaces. Real dialogue is required, as is the ability to listen and be heard without passing judgment. 

That, in my opinion, is the most important lesson learned. These aren't merely "nice" events. They are necessary. And they have the ability to transform people, not in a lofty, idealistic sense, but in a way that makes you truly want to call someone a friend.