When Nicki Minaj took the stage at Turning Point USA’s AmericaFest in December, her appearance represented more than a surprising political crossover. It signaled a sophisticated and deliberate strategy by the white Christian nationalist movement to recruit influential cultural figures, leveraging their platforms to launder a contentious ideology into the mainstream. Her declaration that “Christians are under attack” wasn’t merely a personal religious statement; it was a precise recitation of a core grievance central to this political project.
To understand the significance of this moment, we must first define the ideology at play. White Christian nationalism is not synonymous with Christianity or conservative faith. It is a specific ethnocultural and political ideology that uses Christian identity, symbolism, and narrative as a framework for acquiring and consolidating political power. Its core tenets include:
- Dominionism: The belief that Christians have a biblical mandate to exercise dominion over all aspects of society—government, education, and culture—to establish a godly order.
- The Myth of a Christian Nation: The ahistorical claim that the United States was founded as an explicitly Christian nation, its laws and institutions meant to privilege that faith.
- The Persecution Complex: A powerful narrative that frames Christians (specifically, a certain type of conservative, often white Christian) as an embattled minority under siege by secular, “anti-American” forces.
This ideology provides a “permission structure”—a morally justified reason—for pursuing policies aimed at social control and the exclusion of those deemed outside the national identity.
During her interview with Erica Kirk, Minaj highlighted violence against Christians in Nigeria, stating, “Hearing that people are being kidnapped and while they’re in church people are being kidnapped, people are being killed, brutalized–all because of their religion. That should spark outrage in the great America.” She then pivoted to a defiant stance against perceived persecution domestically: “We’re not backing down anymore… We will speak up for Christians wherever they are in this world.”
This rhetorical move is a textbook example of how white Christian nationalism operates. It flattens complex geopolitical realities into a simple narrative of religious persecution, making it a potent tool for mobilization. While Nigeria faces severe security challenges from jihadist groups like Boko Haram and widespread banditry, experts note the violence is multifaceted. In the north, it is often driven by a mix of political, economic, and territorial conflicts, with victims across religious lines. Kidnappings are frequently motivated by ransom, not theology. By presenting a simplified “Christians vs. Muslims” frame, the narrative erases this complexity, creating a powerful, emotionally charged symbol for domestic political consumption.
The domestic agenda of this movement reveals its selective and instrumental use of Christian identity. The Trump administration’s February 2025 executive order, “Eradicating Anti-Christian Bias,” and its accompanying task force ostensibly aimed to protect Christians. However, its application is narrowly partisan, focusing on defending far-right Christians who oppose LGBTQ+ rights, abortion, and secular governance.
This selective concern creates a stark hypocrisy: the administration and its allies are conspicuously silent when the “persecuted Christians” are immigrants, people of color, or activists for social justice. Consider the evidence:
- Most migrants detained by ICE and CBP are, in fact, Christian.
- The administration reversed policies that provided sanctuary by barring ICE arrests in churches.
- Clergy members peacefully protesting ICE actions have been met with violence and arrest, with little outcry from those claiming to defend Christian liberty.
The message is clear: white Christian nationalism doesn’t protect Christians universally; it decides which Christians are politically useful and which are expendable. It protects a specific cultural and political identity, not a faith.
By sharing the stage with Erica Kirk, Nicki Minaj didn’t just offer a personal opinion. She lent her immense cultural capital—forged in hip-hop and popular culture—to an movement with a documented record of anti-Black racism. Kirk has never publicly challenged her late husband Charlie’s racist statements, which included questioning the competence of Black professionals and denigrating Black women. Minaj’s presence implicitly legitimizes this environment, creating a dissonance between her own identity as a Black immigrant woman and the ideology she endorsed.
This is the essence of co-optation. The movement gains a glamorous, influential shield against accusations of bigotry (“How can we be racist if Nicki Minaj supports us?”), while the celebrity, perhaps motivated by genuine but simplistic religious concern, is used to broadcast a politicized agenda far beyond its original intent.
The profound irony lies in Minaj’s own biography. Having arrived as an undocumented immigrant from Trinidad and Tobago, she now aligns with a political bloc that has demonized and targeted immigrants, including Christian immigrants. If the goal is to truly follow the example of Jesus, as she implies, the path would lead not to alliance with power, but to solidarity with the marginalized he championed: the prisoner, the poor, the stranger.
White Christian nationalism’s endgame is not religious revival but political hegemony. It uses the language of faith to advance a vision of America where citizenship, belonging, and protection are contingent on conforming to a specific cultural, racial, and political identity. Nicki Minaj’s AmericaFest appearance is a case study in how celebrities can become powerful, if unwitting, instruments in this project, their platforms used to normalize an ideology that, at its core, would likely exclude the very complexity of their own lives.
Jemar Tisby serves as Research Faculty at the Pannell Center for Black Church Studies and Senior Democracy Fellow at the Public Religion Research Institute. He writes weekly at the intersection of faith, history, and justice at JemarTisby.Substack.com.