Assata: An Autobiography

by Assata Shakur

Handcuffed by the haters. Gagged by the greedy,” and for whom “a wall is just a wall and nothing more at all. It can be broken down.”

“What is your name?” she asks. “What is your name?” I think about it and decide to say nothing. If i tell them my name they will know who i am and they will kill me for sure.

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Another pig comes in. A Black pig. In uniform. He comes closer and i see that he is not a cop but a hospital security guard. He stands not too far from where i am lying and i can see he is not at all hostile. His face breaks into a kind of reserved smile and, very discreetly, he clenches his fist and gives me the power sign. That man will never know how much better he made me feel at that moment.

I doze off for a little while. When i wake up, a nurse and a priest are standing over me. The priest is mumbling and seems to be rubbing something on my forehead. At first i don’t understand what he is doing. Then it dawns on me. Last rites. Last rites are for the dying. “Go away,” i say out loud. I don’t have the strength to say anything else. But i know i don’t want anybody’s last rites. I am not going to die, and even if i do die, i’m not going to die nobody’s hypocrite.