When NFL teams decided to hold a moment of silence for conservative activist Charlie Kirk before several games this week, it sent a chilling message—not of unity, but of selective respect.
As a Black man and lifelong football fan, I have to ask: where was the moment of silence for Trayvon Martin? For Eric Garner? For Michael Brown, Sandra Bland, Breonna Taylor, or George Floyd? Where was the recognition for the countless Black people whose lives were cut short by injustice? The silence then was deafening. Yet, for Kirk—a man who repeatedly made offensive remarks about Black men, Black women, and even mocked diversity and equity programs—the NFL found time to pause, bow its head, and honor him.
A Slap in the Face to Black Players and Fans
Seventy percent of the NFL’s players are Black. These athletes pour their blood, sweat, and tears into this game, risking life-altering injuries for the entertainment of millions. For the league’s mostly white ownership class to pay tribute to someone who demeaned the very communities their players come from is beyond tone-deaf—it’s outright disrespectful.
Imagine if Kirk had directed his offensive rhetoric at Jewish people. Could anyone imagine NFL owners—many of whom are Jewish—still rushing to honor him on game day? The hypocrisy would be exposed instantly. But when it’s Black people, the league shrugs and moves on as though nothing is wrong.
Sports Should Unite, Not Divide
The NFL loves to market itself as a unifying force, a Sunday tradition that brings fans of all backgrounds together. But mixing the game of football with the legacy of a bigot undercuts that message. Sports should be a place of healing and solidarity, not a platform for honoring white supremacist views.
Let’s be clear: I don’t care about Charlie Kirk’s personal politics. He had the right to say what he wanted. What I care about is the NFL choosing to elevate his memory in a way it has consistently denied to victims of racial injustice. That decision tells players, fans, and especially Black communities exactly where they stand in the league’s hierarchy of empathy.
The Bigger Problem With Selective Mourning
Public tributes carry weight. They aren’t neutral—they’re statements of value. When the NFL stays silent in the face of Black suffering but breaks out the solemn ceremonies for a man known for belittling Black lives, it’s not just a misstep—it’s an endorsement of a status quo where Black pain is invisible and white grievance is worthy of center stage.
The NFL can’t have it both ways. It can’t plaster “Inspire Change” slogans in end zones while simultaneously honoring a man who disrespected the very idea of change. Unity is more than a marketing campaign—it’s about consistency, respect, and justice.
Final Thoughts
By holding moments of silence for Charlie Kirk, the NFL revealed its racist side. It showed us that some lives are deemed worthy of recognition and others are not. Until the league confronts its hypocrisy and acknowledges the humanity of the Black players and fans who make the NFL what it is, every tribute it offers will feel hollow.