"I left him right before high school graduation, after he threw a chopping knife at me while fighting and making dinner, and after I was accepted into college and knew that I'd have a place to live without him.

For the past 13 years, I have wrapped the compact in paper every time I've moved. I don't use foundation (or powder, whatever is meant to go in there), so the compact has gone empty ever since he gave it to me. Which seems fitting — our relationship was a failed attempt at filling holes inside us."

Skirt Story

"The first time I wore the skirt was a few weeks later. I was in New York for the Republican National Convention protests, documenting a march I had helped organize. In my downtime I was exploring the city, and at dusk I wound up walking alone through Central Park. There I encountered a group of pagans at the edge of a field. They were holding hands and dancing in a circle. A man on the end of the spiral locked eyes with me, extended his arm my way and said, "Join us." For some reason, I did. And we twirled about in the park, stopping eventually to light candles and pray for peace."