I don't get it. That's what it comes down to. I've spent every day since the presidential election trying to wrap my head around what happened and what to do next, and I've reached the point where I just don't get it.

I grew up in a household where world news and politics were regular dinner table conversations. My mom worked closely with the organizers of Indy Pride in the mid-'90s; I went to my first pride march in '95 or '96. My dad sang me Peter, Paul, and Mary songs like "Blowin' In The Wind" and "Where Have All The Flowers Gone" as lullabyes.

In the last two months I haven't grown any more comfortable with the outcome of the election. If anything, I'm more worried and frightened now than I was. I thought that saner heads might prevail - maybe the electoral college would do its job or the child rape case would settle the issue of the presidency in favor of sanity and diplomacy.

The morning after the election, still reeling from the improbability of it all, I tried to encourage my students to discuss what they were thinking. No one wanted to talk, so instead I asked them to write or sketch how they were feeling. At the end of class I collected the papers. On the page on top one student had drawn the outline of the United States and it was burning. I understand exactly what he meant.

As 2017 gets underway, I worry that his image is more than a metaphor and it makes me wonder. What is it that makes so many people afraid to stand up and take direct action? Is it because so well what we stand to lose? Is it because, as people who remember our history, we shy away from the violence and loss we know will come of protest? Is it that we can see in our minds' eyes the images of Kent State and Tiannamen Square, burning buildings in LA, and police setting dogs on black civil rights marchers? Are we afraid to get hurt?

In addressing my own position of privilege, I have had to own up to the hard fact that, yes, those things scare me. I know that the right thing to do in a large sense would be to go to Standing Rock. I know that I should be showing up for organizing meetings, making signs for protests, and putting myself on the line. But I am afraid. I am afraid of what it would mean for my family if I were to get hurt. I am afraid of what it would mean for me if I were to lose my job or end up in jail. I know that these are extreme-sounding speculations, but that's the thing about learning from history - those things happened to someone, are happening to someone - they could just as easily happen to me.