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Despite many of his most polarizing comments about diversity, equity, and inclusion pertaining to racial and gender minorities in this country, his economic, domestic, and foreign policy perspectives, Charlie was a star in the conservative movement.  

If his murderer thought that Kirk’s assassination would slow his conservative movement’s momentum and, more dangerously, the white nationalists that both ideologically and physically attached themselves to him despite his public condemnation of them—they may have lit the fuseto a tumultuous political chapter in this country’s history.  

Despite the bloody scene of Charlie’s murder being caught on camera for millions to see, some have calmed from the initial shock at the sight and are considering the rather dark irony of the situation surrounding his death. For one thing, this comes after Kirk himself made a statement in 2023 that “having an armed citizenry comes with a price...and that is part of liberty...I think It’s worth to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the Second Amendment to protect our other God given rights.”  

Moments before the fatal bullet struck him, Charlie answered a question from someone in the audience asking his thoughts on mass shootings in the US in the last ten years, to which he responded, “counting or not counting gang violence?” Seconds later the crowd was horrified at the gory sight of his blood squirting from his neck as he fell from his stool.  

Many of you have seen the footage by now as it has gone viral on social media. While this certainly was dominating the headlines, we may not have noticed that around the same time there was yet another school shooting at Evergreen High School in Colorado, where four students, including the shooter were injured. 

To paraphrase Kyle Kulinski, when political assassinations get more media attention than school shooting, we are headed down a dark path. 

Charlie Kirk was respected by some and resented by many. He may even have taken pride in that. 

With that said, I make no judgement call as to how someone is to feel over Charlie’s death. He himself stated that he couldn’t “stand the word empathy,” and that he thought “empathy [was] a made up, new age term” that “did a lot of damage”, so in a way he may have even respected the apathy of his survivingdissenters.  

Kirk knew that he was many things to many people. Members of numerous minority communities are conflicted between their value of all human life, and their remembrance of the cultural and racial divide that he played a hand in worsening.  

His platform did help to sanitize some of the more direct incendiary perspectives about race that exist in the country by the proverbial “forgotten man”. It, for example, is not incumbent upon anyone who was harmed by his rhetoric to forget that Charlie Kirk asserted plainly on X with no evidence that “KetanjiBrown Jackson is a diversity hire. She is only there because she’s a black woman. (June 27, 2025).” 

It is not incumbent upon anyone to forget that Charlie Kirk said in 2024 “"If I see a Black pilot, I'm gonna be like 'boy, I hope he is qualified.’” This might come off as an “I’m just keepin’ it real” situation, but that still does not dismiss how platforming this long held prejudice—and that is textbook prejudice, by the way—promotes the baseless and racist paranoia that has long been held in this country of undeserving, unqualified Black People supposedly stealing jobs from supposedly more deserving white men out of pity, or white guilt, or whatever.  

It is not incumbent upon anyone to forget that Charlie Kirk for the past week on his X account has been on a passionate tear condemning a supposed privilege that Black People have, to murder white people with either impunity or little no media attention. He referenced the single example of the recent murder of 23-year-old Ukrainian refugee Iryna Zarutska by black 34-year-oldschizophrenic, repeat offender and DeCarlos Brown Jr. Using these one-off instances to springboard into a broader narrative generalizing Black Men as dangerous is an age-old but useful tactic creating an ethos for the militarization of police in inner cities, police brutality, and racial profiling—which we are TODAY SEEING.   

Whether tacitly or explicitly, intentional or not, Charlie Kirk was instrumental in making the case for the fascistic trajectory on which this country is aggressively proceeding. His assassination may prove to be the “shot heard round the world”. 

Charlie Kirk was a taxpaying, American citizen who had a Constitutional right to speak his mind, no matter how polarizing.  But the demographics who his bigotry directly targeted, are under no Constitutional or moral obligation to feel or show any empathy if it doesn’tcome naturally.  

While Kirk’s death may be tragic to some, what is universally tragic that many are noticing is the rapidly increasing rate of political violence in this country. Many of us recognized the patterns early and warned that this was where the country was headed in the years to come. Some may even say the increasingly hostile political climate, mixed with the growing frustrations of a daily worsening economy, the moral hazard of issuing full pardons to 1,200 violent January 6 insurrectionists storming the capital and attempting to kill then Vice President Mike Pence, the decaying social and race relations in the country, our desensitizing to human death and suffering as we watch both slow and fast deaths of innocent civilians in Gaza, Sudan, Congo, and—let's face it, our gun-loving culture—are the perfectcocktail ingredients to an era of political violence. History has always shown this. 

We often hear “violence has no place in a democracy.” This is true, the entire purpose of democracy, aside from political empowering the People, is to settle disputes peaceably.  

But when the institutions upon which we’ve based our democratic republic begin to crumble underneath us and resemble more violent and autocratic systems, the promises of peaceful disagreement become less tangible, and political dissent becomes more frequently expressed through violence.  

And THAT.... is the most obvious sign and symptom of an empire in rapid decline.  

Make no mistake. Political assassinations are seldom ever one-offs. The 1960s taught us this lesson. In fact, just under three months ago, Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband were killed in their home by the far-right wing political assassin Vance Boelter. According to the Department of Justice report, Boelter underwent extensive research and planning, dressing up as a police officer, and had a list of elected officials that he planned to murder throughout the day. He planned a methodical and systematic assassination campaign. 

Today, many conservatives on the right are eager to blame the left for Kirk’s assassination, and some have sworn bloody revenge on political figures on the left although as of the time of this post, the shooter’s identity and political motivation, if any, are still unknown. 

What IS known is that the death of Charlie Kirk, founder and president of Turning Point USA, represents an inflective turning point in US political history. And while this instance of political violence is not the first that we have seen this year...it sadly very likely is also not the last.  

Truth above all. Stay on point.  

• https://virgilerivetsambamoussinga.com/

• https://digitalcommons.liberty.edu/hsgppconference/2025/tuesday/5/

• https://www.leslibraires.ca/livres/simi-mazulu-ou-la-nouvelle-afrique-virgile-rivet-samba-moussinga-9782343181899.html?srsltid=AfmBOoqJemWtgIopGE4FZA-kcpnJ1gtOYxdJK0uFbYoODNqlT9J6NGVh

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Demographically, according to a recent Department of Justice report on the City of Trenton (more on that in a separate article), “…Blacks make up 45.5% of the population, Hispanics 38.7%, and whites 13.3%.” With the poverty rate nearly double that of New Jersey’s (nearly half of Trenton’s children are in poverty), and homeownership and high school graduation rates also well below the State’s, the simple eye test hints at which ethnicities are most impacted.

As with any community fighting over scarce geography, employment, and access to capital, Trenton has never been above cannibalizing itself via gang turf wars among the young men—turf they hold no actual stake in aside from their emotional attachment to it. This is not to mention the now decomposed corpse that once was community trust in the local policing institutions—again, a discussion for another article.

While the City of Trenton lags much of the country in wealth creation, graduation rates and the like, its cynicism toward politicians, local and national was years ahead of where the United States has just caught up with the relatively recent MAGA Movement. Let’s face it, we have had our share of political crooks and opportunists that have left us with broken promises and even more broken spirits.

The danger in this becoming our “normal”, is that with normality comes familiarity—and with familiarity comes acceptance.

With acceptance comes stagnancy.

With all this painful political and economic stasis, the sense of community among Trenton residents—at least within their own micro-communities—is the only thing keeping the city from tearing itself completely apart. It is a unite-or-perish environment of existential proportions.

Community is the core value that staves away that toxic acceptance, unblocking the stagnancy of a people. It asks demands more of its collective of members to lean inward and maximize its capacity as a self-regulating organism sustaining itself during periods of heightened political and economic instability. Furthermore, it fortifies the social ties between the individuals within it that bind it together.

One of the best examples of this is the Trenton Haitian community. Accounting for 1.52% of New Jersey’s 71,444 Haitian population (though this number is likely to have increased significantly due to the Biden Parole Program which saw over 200,000 Haitian migrants come to the US) it faces the same challenges as the rest of Trenton’s residents—two-fold.

For starters: the language barrier. It is difficult enough to be in a strange land, but the disconnect widens when your native tongue is understood by less than 0.2% of the human population. In terms of communicating at work, and even communicating with healthcare professionals for treatment, the cultural minority in pursuit of survival must ban together.

Another issue the Haitians face is the growing xenophobia against them, exacerbated and enflamed by President Trump’s “they’re eating the dogs, they’re eating the pets” accusation during the 2024 Presidential debate against then-Vice President Kamala Harris. While this accusation was proven to be the false propaganda of Springfield, Ohio’s Neo-Nazi white supremacist organization Blood Tribe, its lingering effects are the stigma following both Haitian American and Haitian immigrant in all areas of the country, Trenton included.

The animosity toward the Haitian community in America despite occasional public displays of solidarity by other ethnic groups continues to be an issue. This issue worsens their “otherness” relative to the surrounding majority, while strengthening their “togetherness” within their own communities. Thankfully, despite their small relative size, the Trenton Haitian community’s resilience is a testament to their efforts to contribute to the social good of not only their own communities, but those surrounding it.

I sought a better understanding of this resilience by conversing with one of the most indispensable leaders of the tight knit Haitian community in Trenton, New Jersey—Dardelle Francois.

If you are not careful, you could mistakenly walk past Vodou Lakay & LaSiren's Mystical Boutique & Apothecary if you are walking down Perry Street with your head in your phone. To add to that, a humid 90-degree Saturday afternoon in Trenton is sure to stimulate all of the senses and divert your attention in a million different directions.

Hoopties with 30% (or less) tinted windows cruising toward and from the intersection of Perry and N. Broad Street, blasting Jadakiss’ “Still Feel Me” with entirely too much bass—so much that you wonder if that was how the cracks got in the sidewalk underneath your feet.

Groups of three and four trash talking young boys in dingy clothes having death-defying bike wheelie competitions—mere inches between squeaking NJ Transit buses and parked cars at the sidewalk, whizzing past your car door seconds before you open it.

Thunderous laughter can be heard from a group of young men loitering outside of Gara Grocery and Grill a block down, on the corner of Perry and North Montgomery Street. Directly across the street from the historic Friendship Baptist Church and one door down from the Iglesia Asamblea De Cristo congregated three middle aged looking Trentonians—two black male, one white female, having a spirited but friendly debate over God knows what.

Indeed, the city was teeming with the aforementioned “tearful beauty” that was customary of the Capital City. The sounds of the city were as a free-form jazz band—each “instrumentalist” having their own routine, creating a clamorous yet still somehow melodic sound. Immersion into its joyful madness is usually why I arrive at interviews so early. The contrast between it and the indoor environment is always noteworthy.

My arrival at Vodou Lakay was no different. Standing at the entrance was a tall, strong looking man, scanning the block left and right with a focused determination, for a car matching the description he’d been told over the phone to find—mine. When he saw me, we exchanged grins as I approached him to introduce myself. He again warmly smiled and said “John”, and we shook hands. I could tell he did not speak much English, but he did not need to. I knew that the person I’d come to meet would not arrive for another 15 minutes or so.

John’s niece, Dardelle “Dee-Dee” Francois—owner of the Vodou Lakay, educator, Haitian community advocate, Vodou High Priestess (or Manbo), mother, and wife— was finishing some last minute grocery shopping for an upcoming event. I did not mind waiting. The serene atmosphere inside the Vodou Lakay was a respite from outdoor city raucous. The air conditioning was relief enough from the scorching sun outside. Above all, I wanted time to orient myself to the Vodou Lakay. I pulled out my pen and notepad and sat in a chair a few feet from “Uncle John”, keeping him company as I took notes on everything around me:

Nearest to the entrance was the Haitian Flag in its original red and black colors, with an AI generated portrait of General Jean Jacques Dessalines—champion of Haitian liberation and Haiti’s first Emperor—directly underneath it. There were scores of mason jars of what appeared to be herbs sitting in rows upon shelves, bundles of sage, incense, and pictures of Catholic saints.

There were bottles upon bottles of rum, piles of cigars, pictures with cryptic symbols containing different accents of red, blue, black, and pink. There were handmade bags and hats directly from Haiti, and enameled cups with symbols called vèvè There were altars—some at level with my chest, others at level with my knees. There were candles, some lit at the altars, some unlit and for sale on the shelves.

The lighting of the place was natural, and the crisp, centralized air smelled of a welcoming, sweet, yet smokey fragrance (I assumed it was the lit candles). Sitting comfortably in a burgundy arm chair next to John—and staring at me—was a white cat, and directly behind me were two caged birds.

Peppered throughout the place were skull and bones pictures.

A couple feet away from where I sat was what I assumed was a set up for a ritual, where at the “bottom” of a giant white circle drawn on the ground (the part of the circle closest to me) sat two intersecting machetes. Inside of the white circle were smaller symbols.

As far as I was concerned, I’d stepped into an entirely different dimension—at the very least, a different country.

Well, I thought, all that’s left now is to meet the Manbo…

As if on cue, in walked an energetic woman with her hands full of grocery bags and her face with a familiar, warm smile. I scribbled my last notes, then stood up to embrace her in friendship.

Granted, this was not our first time meeting. Months earlier, we connected at the 4C’s bi-weekly community meeting hosted by Friendship Baptist Church, two doors down. After numerous correspondence with her and her husband (coincidentally, also named Johnny) she agreed to a sit-down interview to tell me more about her contributions to and hopes for the Haitian community—in both the US and Haiti.

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