As a kid I wanted to be Christiane Amanpour, the British-Iranian war correspondent on the frontlines of a conflict zone. Covering Nassau County politics is basically the same thing.
After college I got a “real job” — crunching numbers in a Manhattan skyscraper and watching people shuffle quickly down hallways wearing self-important blazers. It was a shiny, homogeneous world of rooftop bars and Instagrammable SoulCycle classes that, as it goes, was soul-crushing.
Pestering politicians with questions they’re incentivized to ignore — or lie about — is my sport.
I started writing for local and national outlets as an (emotionally) lucrative side hustle, and when the pandemic hit, I went all in.
I’m not a news junkie or a politics nerd. But I care deeply about how powerful people affect our lives.
Being a reporter gives me the immense privilege of having challenging, often emotional, conversations with people I would never otherwise meet. I’m so grateful for that opportunity.
Interviewing a mother hours after her son was killed, on the worst day of her life, or riding on the back of a Harley while embedded with a biker gang on Staten Island.
This work makes me feel so much closer to the world than I did before. Especially in a society where most of us spend our lives surrounded by people not so different from ourselves.
Pestering politicians with questions they’re incentivized to ignore — or lie about — is my sport.
