Rob Halford Reflects on the Death of Charlie Kirk
When I heard the news about Charlie Kirk’s passing, I was shaken—not because I agreed with his politics or his constant rhetoric against the LGBTQ+ community, but because, at the end of the day, a human life was lost in a violent and tragic way. No matter what one may think of his ideas or the battles he chose to fight, no one deserves to die under such circumstances. Violence is never the answer, and I want to be absolutely clear: I condemn it in every form.
I have been loud and proud about who I am for decades. Being an openly gay man in heavy metal—a world that, when I came out, was not always the most welcoming space—has meant fighting battles of my own. I know what it feels like to be judged for simply existing, for daring to love differently, for taking pride in a part of yourself that others wish you’d hide. And yes, Charlie Kirk spent years branding people like me as dangerous, as sinful, even as a force bent on destroying the world. That kind of rhetoric is not only painful; it can lead to real harm. Words shape culture, and culture shapes lives.
But here is the paradox: even as I strongly opposed his views, I cannot bring myself to celebrate his death. Hatred only breeds more hatred. The LGBTQ+ movement, which I am proud to have stood on the frontlines of, has never been about vengeance—it’s about visibility, dignity, and equality. If I start wishing death or violence on those who disagree with me, then I’ve betrayed the very principles that gave me strength to come out and to keep marching forward.
Charlie’s legacy is complicated. For many, he was a voice of conviction, a defender of what he believed to be traditional values. For others, he represented the very systems of oppression that keep queer people and other marginalized groups struggling for basic acceptance. Both realities exist, and pretending otherwise doesn’t do justice to the conversation. But now that he is gone, perhaps the greater lesson we can take is this: we must learn to argue without dehumanizing. We must learn to debate without destroying.
I am gay—and so what? That is my truth, my life, my pride. If you are straight, that’s your truth, too. The beauty of humanity is that we are not all cut from the same cloth, yet we can still find harmony. The fact that Kirk and I stood on opposite sides of a cultural war doesn’t mean his life was worthless. It means he saw the world differently, and it was my responsibility to stand up to his words, not to erase his existence.
My hope moving forward is that people—whether gay, straight, conservative, progressive, religious, or secular—learn to coexist without reducing one another to enemies. If you believe in your faith, practice it. If you take pride in your identity, live it out loud. But do not let your convictions lead you to strip others of their humanity. That is the line we must not cross.
Charlie Kirk did not deserve to die the way he did, and I mourn the fact that the cycle of hatred has claimed yet another victim. My call to all who read this is simple: disagree, debate, stand tall in what you believe—but above all, let people be. That is the only way forward.