By Jackie Tobacco
I’m like most of you: the assassination of Charlie Kirk has affected me greatly. I have been ruminating on the implications for America, the reactions on both sides, and my own experience in the political arena.
In 2020, I made the decision to run for the Board of Education in Middletown, New Jersey, driven by a desire to end the excessive lockdowns and get our children, and my special needs child, back in the classrooms. Halting the decline in mental health our children were dealing with during Covid was something I was facing and hearing about from too many of my friends. It was an impulsive step, fueled by rage and grief and a feeling of helplessness as I watched my son regress. My personal experience coupled with the maddening rhetoric from the media, the government and the teacher’s union, along with my unwavering belief that I could influence the outcome for our kids, led me to announce my candidacy for BOE. However, I quickly found myself at the center of a storm of political vitriol that left an indelible mark on my life.
As my campaign launched, I became a target for those who disagreed with my views. The onslaught started almost immediately. I was labeled a “Nazi,” a label thrown out with no regard for its meaning or history. These words were part of a calculated strategy to intimidate and silence those of us who sought to stand up for our beliefs. The echoes of threats and harassment quickly morphed from mere words to a targeted social media campaign that attacked my non-profit farm program for special needs children with threats to “burn the barn down and the horses”- a message my son with autism received on facebook.
After my election, as I spoke out over the last five years about everything from masking to quarantine to transgender policies, this campaign of harassment continued as my personal information—name, picture, and address—was posted multiple times on social media sites with malicious intent. I was considered a public person and told it comes with the territory. Also thankfully with that territory came police escorts to and from BOE meetings.
My sons received threatening messages on social media, with vile language aimed at degrading me and instilling fear in my family. The threats were not just verbal; they were a message—a declaration that dissent would not be tolerated. A social media post of my son and his girlfriend in Jack Ciattarelli shirts making meatballs ended up with trolls tracking her down and reporting her to her company- a Big Six accounting firm where she then faced a harsh reprimand and a warning. My feelings were a cyclone of outrage, shame and fear that an innocent beautiful family moment caused collateral damage to this sweet girl’s career. I found myself in a position where I had to not only defend my beliefs but also actively protect my family from the fallout of a political climate that had grown increasingly hostile, and seriously consider if the fight was worth it.
These experiences were harrowing and deeply unsettling. It’s disheartening to see what our society has earned in terms of civility and respect for differing opinions. In the face of this political violence that killed Charlie Kirk, I maintain that we cannot remain silent. We must be louder, prouder, and stronger in our convictions. The values we hold close-family, freedom, and our rights to express ourselves—are worth fighting for, even in the face of overwhelming opposition.
Political violence isn’t just about threats or actual acts of violence; it’s also about the climate of fear that permeates our communities. It convinces otherwise good people to silence their voices, to hide their beliefs, and to retreat from public service. This has to stop. We can’t allow fear to dictate how we engage in political discourse.
Standing up for our families means teaching our children that values such as respect, responsibility, and courage matter—even in the face of adversity. I try to instill in my boys that all of our freedoms, including the freedom to engage in politics, should not be sacrificed for the convenience of conformity. A culture that silences dissenting voices undermines the basic foundation of America.
It is crucial that we collectively raise our voices against this tide of intimidation. Whether we’re advocating for our local schools, promoting family values, or defending our freedoms on a national stage, I hope we find it inside ourselves to stand solidly for what is right—what is good for our families, our children, and our communities.
To my fellow elected officials, advocates, grass roots leaders, and my mama bears, it is our responsibility to not let Charlie Kirk’s death be in vain. Let’s find the courage of conviction.
We have a choice- to rise up and affirm the importance of our beliefs or to hide from the monsters out there celebrating a man’s death and calling for more. My children are afraid for me, and for this world. It would be easy to leave politics behind to stay safe. I am making the conscious choice to speak louder about issues that matter—our families, our values, and our freedoms. I stand firm, not just for myself, but for every individual who has felt the chilling effects of political violence. We can choose to make politics a space for respectful dialogue and honor Charlie Kirk’s efforts. We can choose to be brave, be bold, and be authentic in making a world our children can thrive in.
Jackie Tobacco is a member of the Middletown BOE. The views expressed in this article are her own and not that of the Board.
