It has become my habit to check social media when I first wake up, a consequence of this modern age. I wasn’t sleeping well, so this morning I checked my phone around 5 a.m., expecting to see continued analysis of the midterm elections and maybe a charming news item about Cardi B. I should have known better.

According to statistics from the Gun Violence Archive, there have been 307 mass shootings in the 312 days of 2018. They are a commonplace occurrence. This is a horrifying thing to say, but it is the truth. We need to say this truth over and over. We need to face this horror without looking away. We live in a country where there are relatively few restrictions on gun ownership and where our cultural tolerance for mass murder appears to be infinite.

Less than a month ago I visited California State University Channel Islands, not far from where the shooting on Wednesday night took place. I was greeted by a deeply engaged audience. We had a thoughtful discussion about sexual violence, justice, trauma and healing. Some of those students might have been at the Borderline Bar and Grill in Thousand Oaks, Calif., Wednesday night, doing what college students are supposed to be doing — dancing and hanging out with friends, having fun. As I read the news Thursday morning, my chest tightened. I read quotes from students from that campus describing the sparks and the smoke they saw. I felt resignation creeping in.

Over the past two years there has been increased security at my events, armed guards. Sometimes they are there because I have received a threat. Sometimes they are there because I am a black woman with opinions and the threat is already implied. Every time I go on stage, I look out into the audience and wonder if there is a man with a gun in the sea of faces. I am not scared of him. I am resigned to the inevitability of him pointing that gun at me, at the crowd, and pulling the trigger. I don’t want to be this resigned. I don’t want you to be, either.