Ava Raine, daughter of The Rock, has caused controversy in the WWE wrestling world when she made an inappropriate remark about Charlie Kirk after his death. WWE NXT General Manager Ava warned her with the following status on her Instagram: “If you want people to say nice things when you’re dead, you should say nice things when you’re alive.”

The wrestling mat has always been a stage for larger-than-life personas, but when those personas step into the real-world arena of social media, the lines blur between scripted drama and raw, unfiltered emotion. On September 11, 2025, just a day after conservative firebrand Charlie Kirk was gunned down mid-speech at Utah Valley University, WWE’s rising star Ava Raine—real name Simone Garcia Johnson, daughter of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson—ignited a firestorm with a pointed Instagram Story. Sharing a screenshot of a tweet that read, “If you want people to have kind words when you pass, you should say kind words while you’re alive,” Ava’s post landed like a steel chair to the gut of an already reeling nation. It was a subtle jab, or so some claimed, but to Kirk’s legions of supporters, it was tantamount to dancing on a grave.

Charlie Kirk’s assassination on September 10 had already fractured the American discourse like a botched high spot. The 31-year-old co-founder of Turning Point USA, a relentless crusader against what he called the “radical left’s war on America,” was felled by a single shot to the neck during his “American Comeback Tour.” A manhunt culminated in the arrest of 22-year-old Tyler Robinson, a California native whose family tipped off authorities after overhearing his chilling boasts. President Donald Trump, Kirk’s staunch ally, decried the killing as a “heinous act of left-wing terrorism,” vowing the death penalty and even posthumously awarding Kirk the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Vigils sprang up from Orem to Phoenix, where Kirk’s widow, Erika, delivered a tearful eulogy, calling her husband a “martyr” and urging young conservatives to carry his torch. But amid the mourning, a darker undercurrent surged online: gleeful posts from detractors celebrating the loss of a man whose rhetoric had long polarized the body politic.

Kirk wasn’t just any pundit; he was a lightning rod. From dismissing climate change as a hoax to branding abortion “pandering to evil,” his unapologetic barbs against LGBTQ+ rights, immigration, and feminism drew cheers from the right and fury from the left. His quips, like suggesting Taylor Swift’s billions were “wasted” on a “bad name,” or advocating burning Pride flags, made him a villain to many. So when Ava’s post surfaced, it tapped into that raw nerve. “She’s basically saying he deserved it,” fumed one X user, tagging WWE brass like Triple H and Shawn Michaels. Calls for her firing echoed across platforms, with hashtags like #FireAva and #BoycottWWE trending alongside tributes to Kirk. Threats poured in, forcing Ava to go private on Instagram as the backlash swelled to over 100,000 mentions.

At 23, Ava is no stranger to the spotlight’s glare. Stepping into her father’s colossal shadow, she’s carved a niche as WWE NXT’s General Manager, a role that demands poise amid chaos. Debuting in 2020, she’s evolved from a wide-eyed trainee to a authoritative figure on the black-and-gold brand, overseeing storylines with the savvy of a veteran. Her lineage is her superpower and her curse—The Rock’s daughter inherits not just fame but the expectation of invincibility. Yet this incident exposed the fragility of that armor. The post, deleted swiftly but screenshotted eternally, wasn’t a direct eulogy or condemnation; it was a philosophical nudge, a reminder that legacy is forged in life, not after. But in the fevered pitch of grief, nuance is the first casualty.

The wrestling world, ever a mirror to society’s schisms, didn’t stay silent. Fellow NXT talents like Roxanne Perez voiced support for Ava privately, while veterans such as Ric Flair urged restraint, tweeting, “Words hurt, but hate kills. Let’s heel-turn this into healing.” Dwayne Johnson himself remained mum, his focus on Hollywood juggernauts like the upcoming Moana sequel, but insiders whisper of tense family calls. WWE, under TKO Group Holdings, navigated the minefield with a boilerplate statement: “We condemn all forms of violence and promote respectful discourse.” Yet the damage rippled—ratings for NXT’s next taping dipped 12%, per Nielsen, as conservative fans tuned out in protest.

Ava’s doubling down only fanned the flames. Responding to the vitriol with another Story—”and I’ll stand behind this. Be kind, now more than ever”—she transformed defense into defiance, echoing the very ethos she invoked. Supporters rallied, pointing to Kirk’s history of inflammatory takes: his defense of gun rights as “worth the deaths,” or his “great replacement” conspiracy rants. “Ava spoke truth to power,” one fan posted, “Kirk sowed division; she’s harvesting karma.” Critics, however, saw hypocrisy in a public figure profiting from WWE’s family-friendly facade while stoking partisan fires. “Nepo baby gets a pass?” sneered a Kirk devotee, referencing Ava’s accelerated rise.

This clash underscores a broader reckoning in entertainment: the collision of celebrity and citizenship. In an era where X amplifies every whisper into a roar, stars like Ava aren’t just entertainers; they’re inadvertent activists. Her remark, born perhaps from genuine conviction or impulsive scroll, highlights the peril of performative politics. Kirk’s death, tragic and untimely, amplified existing divides, turning a personal post into a proxy war. As Robinson awaits trial on September 16, the nation grapples with its soul—does free speech shield the unkind, or demand reciprocity?

For Ava, the road ahead is a gauntlet. WWE’s machine churns on, with NXT’s Deadline premium live event looming, but whispers of backstage heat persist. Will she address it on-air, channeling The Rock’s eyebrow-raise charisma into contrition? Or lean into the heel turn, embracing the controversy as fuel? Either way, this episode marks a pivot: from polished GM to lightning rod. In wrestling, as in life, the real matches happen outside the ropes—fought with words that linger longer than any suplex. As Erika Kirk vows to perpetuate her husband’s fight, and Ava stands her ground, one truth endures: in the octagon of opinion, kindness isn’t just courtesy; it’s currency. And in these divided days, it’s in short supply.