Stretched out on my oversized couch in my apartment in downtown Oakland, my friend Devin Miller—an Oakland artist, with short, choppy bleached hair, and an eclectic, thrift store wardrobe—and I watch The Daily Show on my laptop, laughing about Rush Limbaugh’s latest antics. It feels like any other night, relaxing after a long day at work with a friend at home, though she and I both know that tonight isn’t typical. I am serving ginger and honey tea when she pulls out a green, pink, and yellow vertically striped make-up bag with little handles on the top—the kind you can buy from the dollar bins at Target—and says, “Are you ready?”

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