Assata: An Autobiography (Lawrence Hill & Co.) by Assata Shakur

By Assata Shakur

This provides the lifestyles tale of African American innovative Shakur, formerly referred to as JoAnne Chesimard.

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You can either call me Ms. Shakur or Ms. Chesimard. " "I'm not going to call you by your last name. " "Well, that's okay by me, if you can stand me calling you Miss Bitch whenever i see you. " "Lock the door," she told the guard and walked away. Days passed. Evelyn called the sheriff, the warden (there were two wardens in that jail: Butterworth and a man named Cahill. Cahill had all the power, though. Butterworth was only a fig­ urehead) and everybody else. Nothing more could be done outside of going to kourt.

Black music. It sounded so good. I looked through the peephole and saw faces, weird and distorted because of the concave glass, but Black faces to match the Black voices i had heard. " i asked. No response. " A chorus of muffled "Fine" s came back. I was feeling good. Real people were just on the other side of the wall. The guard opened the metal door and handed me some uni­ forms, maid's uniforms-royal blue, white buttons, collars, and cuffs. I kept trying them on until two of them fit. Then she gave me a huge cotton slip that looked like a tent dress and a nightgown that looked exactly like the slip.

As soon as we got outside, boy, he jumped on me like a gorilla jumps on a banana. Don't you ASSATA know that man hit me so hard he knocked my teeth straight out of 55 my mouth. " i told that fool. "We can fight later. I ain't got no 'nother four hundred dollars to spend on no false teeth. " Chile, we was drunk as skunks, down on our knees for 'bout an hour looking for those teeth. And when that fool found them, he said the teeth jumped up and tried to bite him. Lord, chile, that man is a fool. 1 could listen to these stories only when the outside door was open.

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