At My Purple Heart Ceremony, My Stepmother Swung a Folding Chair Into My Arm—Then My Father Looked Down Instead of Protecting Me

It protected rights and safety I already had.

That distinction became central.

When I was sixteen, Gertrude threw my backpack into the rain because I came home late from volleyball.

The next morning, I took everything out.

Notebook.

Textbooks.

Pens.

Photographs.