“Dominant does not mean domineering,” she said. “It does not need to mean oppressive or demeaning.”
“A true leader leads with kindness,” she added. “They govern with understanding and resolve, not ego, hate, or petty revenge.”
A cardboard sign was tied to her walker with green bread twists. It read: “I’m old enough to know how this ends.”
The faded purple blue tattoo on her arm was evidence of having lived through what most would deem un-survivable. She had survived, and came out the other side not only alive but vibrating with a kind of solid empathy that no one would mistake for weakness.
She did not raise her voice but nonetheless it carried. Or maybe it was her energy that created a little centripetal force-field around her. People stopped by. Leaned in to hear more. Some took her photo.
“Authority needs to be bestowed, not taken,” she noted, and I couldn’t help but think that someone ought to hire this little old lady, this walking wisdom slogan-machine.
The sun washed over the sea of people, signs, distant chants, knit hats. A puppy barked and a child’s exuberant peal of laughter carried on the wind.
“Hear that?” The old woman smiled. “That’s power.”
“And that,” she waved a wrinkled hand to encircle the swelling crowds. “That’s due dominance.”
For The Daily Post