“Everybody listens to me out here on the West Side.” A trying journey “I could be the one to take over things in the homeless community if need be,” Goldsbury said. Goldsbury’s popularity reached a new level in the past year, so much so that she’s dubbed herself “the godmother of the west side.” In fact, she knows nearly everyone living outside on her side of town. “It’s a present.”Ĭolorado Springs does not permit the recreational sale of cannabis, but Goldsbury knows a guy. “I got you something, babe,” she tells Shepard, tossing him a quarter-ounce bag of weed. Like many cities, Colorado Springs doesn’t allow outdoor camping, so Goldsbury and Shepard have a hidden spot away from cops, other unhoused people and anyone else who could pose a threat. She climbs down about six feet to greet her boyfriend, Nicholas Shepard, at the couple's shared campsite. On April 17, a gray hoodie covers her head as she trudges through rain thumping over a muddy trail on Colorado Springs’ west side on a cold day.Ībout a quarter-mile into the trail, Goldsbury takes a left turn down a steep dirt path. Sparkly, golden eye shadow decorates her olive green eyes on days she feels like dressing up. Her light brown hair is freshly dyed and constantly brushed. Amy Goldsbury’s smile reaches both corners of her face.

As the topic is debated by politicians and mayoral candidates promising solutions, those living in it share their stories.ĬOLORADO SPRINGS, Colo. This story is the first of several in a Rocky Mountain PBS series documenting homelessness in Colorado Springs.

In The Swish by Dawn Green