[There’s no end to the hand-wringing and finger-pointing on the Evening News these days. As a Digest that tries to keep itself apolitical, remembering Concepcion Picciotto’s legacy is a way to comment on a complex and emotional subject. SB SM]
from streetsensemedia.org February 10, 2016
Three days after her death, Concepcion Picciotto’s protest display still stands.
Directly across from the White House, a quiet man named Neil Cousins guards the small shelter covered by a plastic tarp shaking slightly in the wind and surrounded by tall wooden signs. Aside from a few scattered bouquets and a handwritten note reading “Concepcion R.I.P. Love, Philipos,” the 24-hour setup looks very similar to how it has for the past 35 years.
The signs have accumulated and the government critiques have shifted to fit current political issues, but the message overall is still a call for world peace. A number of proclamations and condemnations line the wooden structure of the display, most of them criticizing government violence. “Radioactive Pollution Kills” reads a paper flyer taped to a stack of milk crates. “Don’t be a lemming,” warns another, “Save yourself – renounce genocidal weapons.”
Concepcion Picciotto, who was believed to be in her early 80s, moved to the United States from Spain as a young adult. After a difficult marriage and failed custody battle, she moved to the District of Columbia to protest government violence, which Picciotto believed is the root of injustice and terror in the world. She died on January 25 after more than three decades of constant protest in front of the White House. She spent her last days at N Street Village, a shelter for women.
Picciotto adamantly opposed nuclear warfare and government violence. Despite her loud and abrasive way of protesting, Picciotto’s primary message was one of peace. She was known for feeding LaFayette Square Park’s squirrels and handing out painted “peace rocks” to visitors of her tent.
Willa Morris, a social worker in the District, remembers coming across Picciotto’s protest decades ago. Morris visited D.C. frequently when she was young, and seeing Picciotto outside the White House left a big impression on her.
“I remember she was very articulate about the issues at hand,” Morris recalled, “And she was very passionate. She taught me about the power that one single person can have.” While most of Picciotto’s signs were bold and eye-catching, Morris remembers being especially impressed with several full-color pictures of exploding atomic bombs that she saw as a young person.
Morris believes that witnessing Picciotto’s commitment to peace and change may have had something to do with her own career choice. She remembers how the participation and upkeep of the tent would ebb and flow depending on the time of year and number of volunteers, but Picciotto was a nearly constant presence. “D.C. is a very transient city,” Morris said. “Concepcion’s tenacity allowed people like me to be exposed to her message. Her commitment was remarkable.”