Trembling in my car as I was ordered to leave the Speedway campus on the night after an upsetting, disorienting and momentous election, I realized: I am afraid, so afraid, to speak up, not just to the man in the fluorescent vest, but really to anyone who may not like what I have to say.

In the wee hours of Wednesday morning, the words of a fine Norwegian poet came to mind: “It’s not all as evil as you think.”

The first time I headed to the polls, I was six. It was 1980, a watershed year in national politics, and my elementary school held a mock-contest among the three candidates.