On the infamous Saturday morning of October 27, 2018, I was knocking on doors for a local pro-choice candidate, like I often do on Saturdays in the lead up to elections. I saw the alert come over my phone that there was a shooting at a synagogue in Pittsburgh. I put the phone away, finished my packet, and called a Lyft to take me home. Alone in the backseat, I broke down uncontrollably.
This article was originally published in The Forward
