Duquesne Blog: The Sequel

By Kelly Rae Robertson, MS, MSCJ, LAPC, CCTS, NCC

The day two babies lost their dad, and a wife lost her soulmate — the slaying of Charlie Kirk.

Far too often, we let fear stop us from telling our stories and speaking our truth. In light of Charlie Kirk’s recent assassination, I am going to be brave and, for one of the few times in my life, not give a damn about what other people think of me. Now I’m talking. Loudly!

Fear Made Me Hide

On August 26th, I emailed my website guy a new blog about my disastrous second round at my once-beloved alma mater, Duquesne University.

The first half of the blog was full of pride and gratitude. I wrote about how much the university meant to me as an undergrad and how deeply my blood once ran red and blue.

But the second half told a very different story—one about returning 21 years later and finding the school unrecognizable. I described being punished and targeted for my beliefs, forced to sit through presentations where a doctoral student lectured me about my “privilege” based solely on the color of my skin. And worse, how the directors and faculty of the program demanded that I write three separate papers on all the things supposedly “wrong” with me and how I was going to fix them.

The entire list of my so-called shortcomings came from the opinions of exactly two people: one dishonest professor and her equally dishonest doctoral student.

As furious as I was—and still am—at Duquesne, I panicked about what might come from sharing the truth. I feared backlash for pointing out what I experienced: a campus culture of ignorance, intolerance, and hate. The hating of cops. The hating of veterans. The hating of Jews. The hating of anyone who dared to share different beliefs from their own. I also feared judgment from the blog's readers — that speaking my truth might cost me more than silence ever did.

So, I took the coward’s way out. My website administrator made the blog live on August 26, 2025, at 8:21 a.m., and by 5:03 p.m. the same day, I had him take it down.

The Day Charlie Kirk Was Shot

On September 10th—just fifteen days later—Charlie Kirk was assassinated on a college campus in Utah.

At the time of his murder, he was doing what he always did: sitting at a table with a microphone, taking questions, and often a verbal beating from the same kind of students who targeted me.

I admired the way Charlie handled those debates. He never lost his cool, no matter how much someone screamed into the microphone Kirk provided. He gave students a platform, let them speak, and then responded calmly, with his viewpoint.

And then he was gone—shot down in front of thousands of people who came to watch Charlie debate. 

Charlie Kirk’s murder was on September 10th. The very next day marked the 24th anniversary of 9/11—a heavy day on its own, but also one that represented an attack on freedom and the targeting of innocent people. In my first Duquesne blog, I wrote about the horror of sitting in a counseling classroom where students openly said we “deserved” 9/11. And it wasn’t just once—I heard it many times, from many students. They said it in front of doctoral students and faculty, and no one batted an eyelash. It was as if I were the only one in the room who felt we didn’t deserve it.

You know what? On second thought. Put the blog back up.

A Grief That Gutted Me

By Saturday, more than 48 hours after the murder of a man I had never met, I was still in tears. The heaviness wouldn’t lift. As someone who has lived through grief and is a counselor to others experiencing it, I’m used to being affected by loss, even of people I never personally knew. But this time, it was different.

The thought of his children growing up without him broke my heart. The thought of his wife losing the love of her life broke my heart. The thought of a casket, a grieving family, and his body being flown home on Air Force Two broke my heart.

It wasn’t just tears, though. It was fear. Fear that felt eerily like 9/11 — the question in the back of my mind: is this only the beginning of something worse?

Tears. Fear. Tears. Fear. Day 1. Day 2. Day 3…

I asked myself the usual questions we desperately use to try to reason our way through the senseless. Why? What did this accomplish? How could someone be so evil? A mix of confusion, horror, and rage. I remembered being angry on 9/11 too — rageful then, and rageful now. Not to compare the two tragedies, but the results were the same: an evil act born from hatred and intolerance, one that caused cruel death and the destruction of lives for others. And there was no reasoning with it. It just was.

When It All Became Clear

The truth hit me in the face.

Oh my God—Charlie was trying to calm the rhetoric and hate on college campuses by giving students a platform to express their views freely. That was precisely what Duquesne didn’t do.

He was killed for doing what I wished my own university had done. He was silenced for giving space to dialogue and debate—words instead of violence—understanding instead of cancellation.

And as the days passed, the pain deepened as I saw young people, professors, even politicians celebrate his murder. The very hate he was fighting consumed them.

Whether you agreed with Charlie’s politics or not, no one has the right to climb onto a roof, aim a rifle, and take a man’s life with such precision that he likely died before he reached the hospital. No one has the right to do that.

I Won’t Be Silenced Again

Watching Air Force Two land and seeing his widow step off that plane shattered me. His death disturbed me in a way I can’t fully explain. A voice was silenced—not because he screamed hate, but because he dared to speak.

And that’s when I knew: I couldn’t hide anymore.

I emailed my website developer again and told him to put the Duquesne blog back up.

I’ll debate you—calmly, logically, even with compassion. You may even change my mind if you come with facts, reason, and kindness. But I will no longer hide who I am.

The same fear that made me take down my blog is the same fear that Charlie Kirk was murdered for standing against.

The blog is now back up. For Charlie Kirk. For his family. For those who mourn him. And for Kelly 2.0 — the one you created when you tried to silence me.

As the bereaved and devastated Erika Kirk said, speaking to her husband’s killer and to all those who celebrated the slaying of her 31-year-old husband: “You have no idea what you have unleashed across this entire country, the fire you have ignited.”

And on that tragic note, as the late, great Tom Petty sang: “I won’t back down.”

Sincerely,

Kelly Rae Robertson, Duquesne grad — the sequel, Class of ’24.

Disclaimer: This blog is not about politics or my political views. This blog is about your politics—and your right to express them.

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If you’re carrying the weight of grief and searching for a way to begin healing, you’re not alone. Whether you've lost someone, something, or a sense of yourself, please email me at mindfulcoastcounseling@gmail.com or call 412-376-3479.

I’d be honored to walk with you through this part of your journey.

—By Kelly Rae Robertson, MS, MSCJ, LAPC, CCTS, NCC

Grief, Trauma & EMDR Specialist

Owner & Founder, Mindful Coast Counseling

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The content of this post does not replace professional medical or mental health treatment or diagnosis.