By Jen Schumann | Rocky Mountain Voice
The first Turning Point USA event, “Debate a Conservative,” took place Oct. 16 in the Fort Lewis College Student Union, where police stood at the doors as a steadying presence.
Jonah Flynn, a senior studying philosophy and Spanish, along with Charlie Parke and Isabella Trevino, who were working to start a TPUSA chapter on campus, had braced for hostility but insisted on dialogue.
“People with opposite views asked hard questions, but we all talked,” said Zen Moreno, a first-semester transfer in environmental conservation and management who joined the chapter after attending the event. She said she felt compelled to step in, hoping to turn hostility into conversation and connection.
Flynn recalled how tension turned to civility. “People came in angry, but afterward you could feel the hate and dislike get toned down in some of them.”
Two weeks later the student senate denied recognition for their new chapter of TPUSA.
The decision
As the chapter took shape, its leaders filed an application for recognition as a Registered Student Organization (RSO). The vote was set for Oct. 29. The student government announced it would be an open meeting, allowing anyone to speak for or against recognition.
Opposition began the day after the debate. A petition with nearly 400 signatures claimed TPUSA made “marginalized students feel unsafe,” language that quickly spread across campus.
Flynn said the Oct. 29 meeting had turned into an event of its own, drawing a crowd that packed the room as debate gave way to anticipation. Bernie Lake, who attended, estimated about 300 people and said the meeting, though tense, was fair—even if the outcome wasn’t.
The TPUSA president, she added, “did an amazing job—took questions from the crowd, made a presentation and held his cool.”
At the front table, Asa Worthington, student body president of the Associated Students of Fort Lewis College (ASFLC), delivered the verdict. “Many of our morals and interests must be pushed to the side,” he said. “The safety of our student body and the FLC community has always been and always will be ASFLC’s top priority.”
The vote ended in applause—relief for some, disbelief for others.
To Moreno, the cheering wasn’t celebration but proof that fear had been rewarded.
To her, the vote showed what happens when institutions confuse appeasement with principle.
Neutrality that isn’t neutral
As a public institution, Fort Lewis must treat student groups equally. The Supreme Court has long held that public colleges cannot deny recognition based on viewpoint.
Worthington described the vote as an act of viewpoint neutrality.
Flynn heard something else. “Technically it was students who decided, not administrators—but the environment pushes students to shut us down,” he said. “The college seems more committed to comfort than to diverse ideas or truth. Pursuing truth is supposed to be uncomfortable.”
“We’ve got ideological and identity-based groups here that operate freely,” Flynn said. “Meanwhile, neutrality can’t exist when our presence is labeled too extreme or unsafe. People even said my MAGA hat made them feel threatened.”
Moreno recalled that even one member of the student board acknowledged the contradiction, noting during deliberations that the group had met every rule required for recognition. “If this was truly from a neutral perspective,” she said, “they have absolutely no reason to deny us.”
The backlash
Even before the debate, flyers disappeared—many slashed or scribbled with insults. “The ones that weren’t torn down were cut, covered or defaced,” Moreno said.
Flynn said opposition only grew afterward, and the “pushback got stronger.”
To Moreno, the shift from curiosity to condemnation showed how fear had replaced fairness.
Moreno claimed that, “The true safety that ASFLC was concerned for was ours, and their own… Those opposed to TPUSA on campus have used hateful speech online, torn down and defaced our flyers, and acted with intense anger.”
She called the outcome “blaming the victims.”
Faith and conviction
Flynn hadn’t set out to lead a political group. “I never planned to start a chapter—what happened to Charlie Kirk changed that,” he said. “It was a terrible tragedy. Some were happy Charlie died. I couldn’t just let it stand. I have to carry the torch.”
Moreno’s conviction comes from faith. “Before and after the decision had been made, I prayed for God to guide us down the most loving path.” Adding that, “I find strength in God, and with community support, we will make sure this never happens to another TPUSA chapter again.”
When asked why she believed there was so much rage and animosity toward conservative views and TPUSA’s presence, she said, “When from a young age you’re told that a group of people (conservatives) HATE everything about you and will never accept you—that becomes a firm foundation in your identity.”
“Breaking that barrier is important if we ever want to unify,” Moreno said—and Flynn echoed her conviction: “It’s important to keep the conversation going.When you stop talking is when violence happens. We shouldn’t be hating each other—we have to talk.”
Safety versus truth
Flynn hadn’t been thinking about safety until classmates warned he might be attacked. Classmates who cared about him urged caution, warning that the debate could draw anger—one even said, “You’re gonna die today.” Flynn understood it wasn’t a threat but concern from a peer.
The warning made him think differently about safety, so he asked police to attend, hoping their presence would steady the room and keep the temperature down.
“I realized police presence could deter chaos—just to keep people calm so nobody screams and runs around and ruins it for those who came to actually participate.” No one was harmed, but on Oct. 29, the same word—safety—was used to justify denial.
The contradiction left the students determined to test the system that silenced them.
Appeal and belonging
The day after the vote, Flynn met with Worthington and two administrators to file an appeal. “We’re appealing—if we have to, a thousand times,” he said.
“I don’t hate these people,” he added. “We need a place where you can say what you actually think and no one rages on you.”
Moreno said the group’s supporters quickly rallied behind them. “We created a GoFundMe to cover the fees we were now expected to pay since we were not recognized as an RSO,” Moreno said. “We met our asking amount of $500 almost right away.”
“Those that feared to speak up in support are now coming out of the shadows,” Moreno added.
Since the denial, community support has rallied behind them. “Bernie has been an absolute rockstar in community outreach online and in person.”
The next afternoon, the college addressed the decision publicly on X, explaining that its student government “leads a peer-to-peer process for recognizing new student organizations.” The post confirmed that the TPUSA’s application “was not approved” and encouraged students to use the appeal process if they wished to continue seeking recognition.
For Moreno and Flynn, the denial did not mean the end. It only meant that they were going to have to fight longer, and harder.
Peace, not permission
That spirit is what Moreno and Flynn are fighting to keep alive—not a political victory but the right to stay calm amid a culture of outrage. “Where others see hatred, I see an opportunity for connection,” Moreno said. “As a follower of Christ, Jesus is my role model. He did not shun those that were misguided, instead he led with love.”
For both of them, peace had never meant silence. “Comfort can’t be the campus creed,” Flynn said. “Truth takes discomfort.”
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