What Martin Luther King Jr. Taught Me About Letters

On handwriting, humanity, and the power of slowing down

Dear Reader,

How’s this for synchronicity.

In the same week we honor Martin Luther King Jr., a man who fought relentlessly for equality, we also mark a day that celebrates handwriting (January 23 is National Handwriting Day).

You might be thinking, Felice, what could those two possibly have in common?

Because I write about letters (a lot), I recently discovered that in 1963, while imprisoned for participating in a nonviolent protest against segregation in Alabama, Dr. King wrote Letter from Birmingham Jail…by hand. Not on pristine stationery, but on scraps of paper, bits of toilet paper, napkins, and in the margins of The Birmingham News.

This isn’t a post about politics, or even heroism. It’s about the fact that Dr. King used his hand to write a letter that became a foundational text of the Civil Rights Movement.

One of my earliest Substacks explored the benefits of handwriting: how it engages memory, improves recall, and helps cement ideas more deeply than typing ever can. I have no doubt all of that was at play when Dr. King wrote his now-famous letter. But I believe the real power of writing it longhand lay in something more intimate: the emotional connection.

Writing by hand invites reflection. When you form each letter deliberately—connecting them into words, then sentences—feelings emerge. You tend to mean what you say. It releases unexpressed thoughts, sharpens creativity, and makes room for emotions that don’t always surface when you’re typing at lightning speed.

All of that lives inside Dr. King’s letter, especially in lines like: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” And, “If I had lived in Germany during that time [the Holocaust], I would have aided and comforted my Jewish brothers even though it was illegal.”

Here we are, in 2026, honoring Dr. King while issues around race persist. And next week, as we observe Holocaust Remembrance, antisemitism is once again on the rise.

But for this post, given my focus on letters, it’s Dr. King’s closing remark that hits closest to home: “Never before have I written a letter this long…but what else is there to do when you are alone for days in the dull monotony of a narrow jail cell other than write long letters…”

I had another Substack ready to go today. But after hearing Eric K. Ward, recipient of the International Civil Courage Prize, speak in person last week, I woke early Saturday morning, reached for a pen, and wrote this in one sitting. The words came quickly, without hesitation.

Because like Dr. King, while I may have been using my hand to write, this one came from my heart.

It’s easy to type hate speech into anonymous chats on phones and laptops. Writing by hand asks something different of us. It asks us to slow down. To sit with our words. To remember that everyone around us—regardless of the color of their skin or what they believe—is human.

And sometimes, that pause is exactly what’s needed.

With love (and a whole lot of compassion),

Felice

P.S. If you feel moved to write a letter this week, let it be an act of care, toward someone else, or toward yourself.

SONG OF THE WEEK

Nina Simone’s Why? (The King of Love Is Dead) doesn’t mention letters per se, but it reads like one, unfolding slowly, as if written with the listener in mind. It felt like the right companion for today’s Substack.

ATTENTION BOOK LOVERS: Your Dream Cruise Is Here!

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.