She did not live to see the Northern Cheyenne Reservation established.

She did not see the homeland that the Exodus survivors finally reached.

She did not see the community rebuild itself, generation after generation, in the face of a colonial system designed to unmake it.

But the community she fought for — the community that rode out to the Rosebud, that stood at the Little Bighorn, that walked a thousand miles home through the winter — that community is still here.

On the Northern Cheyenne Reservation in Montana, in the valley of the Tongue River, in the shadow of the hills that her people have always known, children are growing up who know her name.

They know what she did.

They know why it mattered.

And they will tell their children.

That is the only monument she ever needed.

And it has never stopped being built.