Just a very earnest, heartfelt email

It’s finally cold in Brooklyn ❄️

At least, I am told it’s cold by the weather app in my phone. I’m cozied up in bed, candle lit and Christmas music rocking, a cat next to me. The birds are being weird today (Saturday), so Lizzie is monitoring the situation. We’re so lucky to have her, I don’t know how I’d know about the squawking birds flocking above my head if it weren’t for her panic 😹 (Seriously though, she’s perfect and I’m obsessed with her.)

In today’s missive, you’ll find:

1. From the heart: the world is on fire

2. From the camera roll: well…some photos

3. From the page: why I write

As ever, if you enjoy this newsletter, today or at other times, I’d be so grateful if you’d share with a friend! Or leave a comment and let me know you’re here! Love y’all.

From the heart 💗

I can’t stop thinking about Palestine. Specifically, the Palestinians living in the Gaza strip, who’ve been subjected to consistent bombardment for a month and a half now1. I close my eyes to images of suffering and death on the other side of the world. It’s been a month and a half, and tens of thousands of lives have been lost.

Thousands of children, who should be reveling in their innocence of childhood, learning how to be human, their biggest concern the fact that mom wants them to eat vegetables, are instead dead. Their lives cut short when they should be allowed to survive and thrive.

Thousands of women, mothers and sisters and daughters, who deserve to live and love and have peace, are dead.

Thousands of men, fathers and brothers, grandfathers, doctors, men who should be allowed to care for their loved ones, are dead.

Queer people, disabled people, Christians and Muslims and Jews, are dying for the “crime”2 of being Palestinian.

And those who survived are living in constant fear and horror. I’ve seen videos of children shaking and crying and bemoaning the sound of bombing overhead. I’ve seen videos of young adults and teens who had been imprisoned for years released, sobbing, clinging to their mothers.

It is an absolute travesty that we are watching this genocide play out and our elected officials — Joseph, Bernard, Elizabeth, I’m looking at you (and also Charles and Kirsten, my own senators) — are greenlighting it, sending more money to facilitate it, justifying it.

There is no justification.

We are bearing witness to an unfolding, unimaginable tragedy. The least we can do is not look away. On top of seeing, we can amplify their voices. On top of that we can refuse to buy into propaganda. On top of that, we can reach out to our elected officials and pressure them to put an end to this carnage.

We cannot allow ourselves to fall for the dehumanization that is happening. And for the sake of every person still breathing in Gaza, we must fight for a permanent end to this occupation and genocide.

From the camera roll 📸

From the page ✍️

I write for selfish reasons, much of the time. I write because it un-jumbles the thoughts in my brain and it helps me make sense of the world. I write because it connects me to others — allows them to see me the way I crave being seen, allows me to more authentically live. I write because it’s a compulsion and when I’m not writing, sometimes, my fingers itch. I write because it is good for my sould.

I write for lofty reasons, too. I write because I know the power of words, and more than that, the power of stories3. I have always had stories swirling inside my brain; since I was a little kid, I have fallen asleep by telling myself a story4. I remember how I used to beg my parents to tell a story at dinner and after dinner and on long car rides. Stories!! They make the world go round.

So when I say I write for lofty reasons, I mean that I write with the goal of changing the world. And when I say I know the power of words and stories, I mean that my entire worldview shifted 180-degrees because of others’ stories. (Working in tech is always hard for me, because the higher-ups demand data to prove things, and I provide anecdotes; to me, these are more powerful, more moving, than numbers and charts could ever dream of being.)

I believe that stories can foster empathy, and empathy is such a powerful thing. The world spins how it does because of people chasing money and power, and the world changes because of empathy.

Stories can also offer hope and foster imagination and provide a roadmap for revolution.

No, I don’t think stories alone will change the world. Because there are those who can ingest a story, enjoy it, and totally miss its deeper messages and themes5. Heck, I ingest stories and enjoy them and miss their deeper messages and themes all the time. Books are one tool that we have to change the world; they are not the only tool.

But I can’t not believe in the power of story. Not when I’ve seen its impact in my own life. Not when I’ve heard of others whose lives have been touched by a piece of writing — by a story.

So I write for lofty reasons. I write to change the world. I write because there is so much horror and despair and cravenness and it’s unbearable and if I don’t write I will vibrate out of my skin with the need to do something, to change something. One mind, one life.

I write because it’s the only way I know to make things better for the future.

Alla prossima 👋

That’s all for today. Next week I won’t have an author Q&A for you, I’m switching things up and doing a double-whammy of this setup so I can reflect on (*gasp*) finishing packet work for my final semester of grad school (!!!!) (expect EMOTIONS).

I love y’all. Drink water. Take care of yourselves. Leave a comment and tell me how you’re doing, yeah?