"I'm a hallelujah chick."
“This is fifty-five years old talking how the Lord kept me when I didn’t want to keep myself . . . I’m a hallelujah chick, and I ain’t ashamed of that.” The only evidence that Lucy, the woman sharing this spoken word poetry on the street of Cleveland, OH, was telling the truth about her age was a dusting of gray in her hair. Her tone was bright, her words infused with passion, and—perhaps most surprisingly—her laugh carried not a note of irony or exhaustion in spite of a story marked by pain. I encountered Lucy while on a mission to encourage the Justice Riders . It was the middle of the week, when the hours start to drag and conversations trend toward stale soundbites. The last Rider I planned to check in on was Megan Smith, a veteran Rider who’s also been an intern on our team. Approaching Megan, I saw her in earnest conversation. When I attempted to take a picture, the woman talking with Megan did not, like many others simply ignore me. She instantly called me out. “Wha...