I was in The City yesterday when the hashtag #WhyIWrite started trending on Twitter. I don't often participate in trending tags---I usually just write whatever it is I feel---but this one was tempting. It made me think. Why do I write?
As most writers know...writing isn't easy. It's like throwing your heart of the floor every single time you decide to actually put words to page...and that doesn't take in all the thought that goes on before you actually ever write a syllable. The best way I can describe it to non-writers is this: you have all these thoughts and emotions swirling around inside your head, banging around the inside of your heart, and then (if you listen to that still, small voice) you feel a need to get those words out, and perhaps touch the life of another being.
That said, I chose to participate. One of the first comments I made was:
I need to continue to be a voice for those who feel they have none.
Little did I know how prophetic my words were, and that just a few hours later, I would be tweeting and writing and agonizing over another senseless police death.
Officer Randolph Holder was shot in the line of duty last night, amid a shootout in East Harlem. He was a five-year Veteran of the NYPD. He was part of a Police Family; it has been reported that both his Father and Grandfather were also Officers. He was an immigrant from Guyana. He was, by all accounts, one of the good guys.
I'm not sure if Pat Lynch writes his own speeches or has somebody else write for him, but these were his words last night:
“New York City police officers everyday go out and carry themselves on
the street like superheroes on the street," Patrolmen’s Benevolent
Association President Patrick Lynch said. “But the reality is, when
we’re attacked, we bleed. When we bleed, we die. And when we die, we
Some of us cry and write at the same time.
Rest in Peace, Brother. You served your City well.
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