Why can’t I think of something to write about people getting shot?

"that's life?" (Elvert Barnes, Creative Commons)

Thirteen people died at the Washington Navy Yard, hundreds were killed or injured during a mall shooting in Kenya—and I can’t seem to get my editor a reaction piece. I’m perfectly capable of giving you 800 words on why we shouldn’t say "we" when we talk about our favorite sports teams; I can write about marijuana legalization and Anthony’s Weiner; but I can’t muster a reaction to people being violently murdered?

I want to give you a column about how these events outrage me; how they make me want to sit at the keyboard and type until we all march on Washington demanding change. I want to quote Mao and tell you that it’s time for a permanent revolution. 

I want to do those things; instead all I can do is tell you that I’m sad. I’m sad that we’ve reached a point with mass shootings that when my editor sent out an email asking for reactions, I had nothing to say.

Why don’t large numbers of people being shot horrify me anymore? I spent six hours watching the news the day of the Newtown shootings. I spent six minutes researching the Kenya shootings for a class news quiz. What happened to me, to us, in the last ten months? Why can we read a list of the seven worst shootings of 2012 and react to it like it’s a Buzzfeed piece on seven ways to trick a dog into chasing an invisible tennis ball? 

I’m tired of being tired of news like this. I’m tired of feeling desensitized. Somehow we’ve been indoctrinated to think of mass shootings as an acceptable part of everyday life. I want us to be able to feel like we did that December morning when Sandy Hook was attacked every time that this happens. I want to be able to read a column telling us about the lives and families of the 13 people who died at the Navy Yard and have it hurt our souls. 

We have collectively hardened our hearts to avoid the reality that is every day in this world.

This isn’t about Grand Theft Auto, it’s not about a summer of movies centered on disaster porn and it’s not about guns. This is about us being appalled when people are killed by chemical weapons in Syria, but shrugging our shoulders when even more people are murdered in our own country. 

It’s easy to say I have to insulate myself if I want to become a journalist. It’s easy to say we are smart to protect ourselves from always feeling sad because there is always going to be violent murder.

But should we take the easy way out? Should I accept a world where thirteen people are shot—where even one person is shot—and I can’t think of something to say because “that’s life?” 

It’s time we were re-sensitized. Instead of reading about a shooting or a murder and immediately knowing there’s an angle coming, we need to sit in its sadness. We need to remember what it was like before the world hardened our hearts. Instead of changing the channel because “what’s new?” about another shooting, we should be changing the channel because we can’t bear to look anymore. 

There is no angle on death. The first piece I ever wrote for this site finds me guilty of forgetting that. It’s not about the cover of Rolling Stone, it’s not about guns and it’s not even about mental health. It’s about how in that moment, someone is realizing they’ll never talk to their son or daughter, husband or wife, brother or sister ever again and we owe them our grief. 

What happened to us? To me? At what point along the way did shootings like this stop stopping us in our tracks?  We don’t have to cry every time someone is killed, we don’t have to hang laurels and we don’t have to watch six hours of news coverage. However, we do have to do more than shrug our shoulders. We have to do more than our desensitized selves have proven to be capable of these last ten months. 

I can’t say what that looks like for everyone. Maybe it is laying flowers, maybe its tweeting out “thoughts and prayers” and then doing more than just the "thoughts" part. Maybe, just maybe, it’s getting back to a point where we can write about more than being sad that we’re not as sad as we should be.