Nicki Minaj rents out what’s left of her cultural capital to Turning Point USA

Ironically, Minaj’s desperate bid to be embraced by the conservative movement arrives too late to earn her retroactive approval from Charlie Kirk himself, who had previously gone on record lamenting her influence on American youth. “Black culture is being held captive by influences, songs, and role models. Nicki Minaj…I don’t think that’s a good role model for 18-year-old Black girls,” Kirk once said, before pining for the supposedly superior Black role models of the 1940s and 50s—a period when Black Americans were still legally segregated and routinely terrorized. (Yes, Charlie, those were very different role models. That was the problem.) Still, he reportedly liked her verse on “Monster,” and he was publicly supportive of her still-bizarre claim that the COVID-19 vaccine gave her cousin swollen testicles, so one assumes this is the ideological sweet spot she’s aiming for. Not everyone dreams of being posthumously half-forgiven by a man who thought Jim Crow aesthetics were aspirational, but ambition takes many forms.

The program rolled on regardless. Minaj and Kirk ticked off every square on the MAGA bingo card: Christians are being persecuted, the media hates God, “boys should be boys,” the alt-right are the “cool kids,” and celebrating Black beauty has apparently gone too far and is now making white girls feel bad. JD Vance later described the exchange as “profound,” which is less an endorsement than a self-own.

As if the spectacle itself weren’t enough, rumors began circulating shortly after the event that Minaj may collaborate musically with Erika Kirk on a tribute song honoring the late Charlie Kirk. That collaboration has not been formally confirmed, but if it materializes—and if it bears even a passing resemblance to the already-viral “We Are Charlie Kirk”—there’s a strong chance it will fast-track itself to the top of our “Worst Songs of 2026” list, just as its AI-slop predecessor claimed the #1 spot for 2025. Some artists write protest music. Some write love songs. Nicki Minaj, apparently, is flirting with the idea of becoming the house bard of a youth movement best known for embarrassing TikToks and catastrophic policy takes.

There is something distinctly heartbreaking about watching a career this influential curdle into a walking MAGA content farm. As always, it feels crucial to note that Minaj built her empire on queer audiences, outsider aesthetics, and the thrill of transgression; now she’s using that cultural capital to punch down at trans kids and flatter politicians who would happily legislate her own fans out of public life.

And this, ultimately, is the rot at the center of the whole affair. Minaj isn’t engaging with politics so much as she’s auditioning for a new audience—one that rewards cruelty, conspiracy, and spectacle over coherence or consequence. Regardless of how both Nicki Minaj and Erika Kirk tried to frame it, the former’s appearance at AmericaFest wasn’t a brave stand, a rebellious provocation, or a misunderstood attempt at “free thinking.” It was a final liquidation, and Minaj has officially cashed in whatever cultural capital she had left for short-term applause from people who will never defend her, never respect her, and never remember her once the spectacle ends. At least Faust sold his soul for knowledge. Nicki Minaj sold hers for a last-ditch attempt at relevancy. And if we know anything about Faustian bargains, it’s that they don’t tend to end well.