Doing Homage To a Woman of Courage

For twenty-two years Conchita has lived
in a small plastic-covered tent on a city
sidewalk. Inside this tent is a wooden
platform on which she sleeps. She sleeps
sitting up because she's been told it is
against the law to sleep lying down in this
federal park that is her home.

For twenty-two years Conchita has spoken
her truth to tourists more interested in being
photographed in front of the halls of power than
in examining and thinking about what happens
there.

For twenty-two years Conchita has been less
concerned about snow, sleet, hail and thunder-
storms than about the military men who beat her,
maced her, and threatened her life. The helmet
she wears under a scarf-covered wig makes her look
odd but helps her feel safe, especially when she
sleeps.

For twenty-two years Conchita has been ridiculed,
ignored, laughed at, cursed, pitied and occasionally
listened to by those to whom she devotes her life.

For twenty-two years Conchita's closest neighbor has
been the President of the United States but they
have never met.

For twenty-two years she has stood as a presence of
peace, truth and justice in a place where these things
are often just words.

For twenty-two years Conchita has transformed our planet.

by Patricia Lay-Dorsey