💔 A Nation Divided, A Heart That Still Hopes

Yesterday, two tragedies unfolded—one in Colorado, where a student opened fire at Evergreen High School, and another in Utah, where Charlie Kirk was assassinated during a campus event. Both events shook me to my core. Not because of who the victims were, but because of what they represent: lives lost in moments of senseless violence, and a society increasingly unable to hold space for disagreement without destruction.

I’ve seen people online celebrating Charlie Kirk’s death, using partial quotes to justify their reactions. One in particular keeps surfacing:

“I can’t stand the word empathy, actually. I think empathy is a made-up, new age term that — it does a lot of damage. But, it is very effective when it comes to politics. Sympathy, I prefer more than empathy.” — Charlie Kirk, The Charlie Kirk Show, October 2022

Taken alone, it sounds harsh. But context matters. Kirk was critiquing political strategy, not advocating cruelty. He believed sympathy—feeling sorrow for others—was more constructive than empathy, which he saw as emotionally manipulative in political discourse. You can disagree with that. Many do. But disagreement should never be a death sentence.

No one “has it coming.” Not like that. We should be able to agree to disagree and still protect each other’s right to live, speak, and be heard.

And today, on the anniversary of September 11th, I’m reminded of a time when we did come together. I still remember the frantic calls at Polo.com, being sent home because I was too emotional, sitting in front of the TV for days, trying to understand. I remember talking to my dad for comfort. I remember the unity, the kindness, the shared grief.

What happened to that spirit?

Let’s take a moment to remember the families who never saw their loved ones return. Let’s honor those who fought for our freedoms and those who continue to do so. Thank you for your sacrifices—and for the sacrifices of your families. I will #NeverForget.

Maybe it’s time we all reflect on how we felt 24 years ago. Maybe it’s time to stop choosing sides and start choosing compassion. Maybe it’s time to stop shouting and start listening.

I say this not just as a witness to the world’s pain, but as someone who’s lived through it. Decades ago, I was injured in a shooting incident—something that left both physical scars and emotional ones I still carry. It wasn’t a headline-making event, but it changed me. And every time I hear about another shooting, it brings those memories rushing back. The fear. The confusion. The loneliness of being hurt and not fully understood.

And last December, my CEO was murdered. I watched people online celebrate his death. I stayed quiet, but inside, I was shaken. I’ve seen people I once considered friends post things that glorify violence, mock tragedy, and dehumanize others simply because they disagree. It’s devastating.

This week, I traveled to Minneapolis for work. My sister lives very close to Annunciation School, where two children were murdered just over a week ago during a Mass on the first day of school. I drove past the memorials—flowers, candles, heartbreak etched into the sidewalk. I have friends who belong to that church. Their children go to that school. The grief is real. The fear is real. And the question that keeps echoing in my mind is: Since when does every difference of opinion have to result in a heinous act of violence?

I don’t care if you’re left or right, white, Black, brown, yellow, purple, or blue—we all bleed the same. We all put our pants on the same way. We all have people we love, and we all want to feel safe. That’s not political. That’s human.

We can do better.
We have to do better.
We need to do better.

What breaks my heart—and yes, makes me angry—is seeing people justify their own harmful behavior by pointing to the very same actions they condemn in others. It’s a vicious cycle: tearing someone down while becoming the mirror image of what you claim to oppose. That’s not justice. That’s not progress. That’s just more pain.

If we truly want change, it starts with accountability—not just for others, but for ourselves. It starts with choosing compassion over cruelty, clarity over distortion, and dialogue over destruction.

Let’s stop trying to win arguments and start trying to heal wounds. Let’s remember what unity felt like, and fight for that feeling again.

Because we can do better.
And we must.