Free Assata: An Autobiography by Assata Shakur Page A

window, to the door. Back and forth until i had tired myself out. I was still pretty weak. Then i lay down on the cot and wondered what this place was going to be like. Here i was, my first day in prison.
    In about an hour, a guard unlocked the outside door and asked me if i wanted breakfast. I said, "Yes," and in a few minutes she came back with eggs and bread in a plastic bowl and a metal cup containing something that was supposed to be coffee.
    The eggs didn't taste too bad. "Maybe prison food isn't as bad as they say it is," i remember thinking.
    I heard voices and it was clear they weren't police voices. Then the radio came on. 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.
    "How y'all doin'?" i asked.
    No response. Then i realized how thick the metal door was, so i shouted this time: “How y’all doin’?" 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.
    "You are entitled to a clean uniform once a week."
    "Once a week?" i nearly screeched. They had to be crazy. Behind the guard, through the open door, i could see some of the women standing around. They were all, it seemed, Black. They smiled and waved at me. It was so good to see them, it was like a piece of home.
    "When are you going to unlock me and let me go out there?" i asked, motioning to the other women. The guard looked surprised.
    "I don't know. You'll have to ask the warden.”
    "Well, when can i see the warden?" i pushed.
    "I don't know.”
    "Well, why am i being locked in here? Why can't i go out there with the other women?" "I don't know."
    "Then why can't you let me out?”
    "We were told you were to remain in your room.”
    "Well, how long am i supposed to stay in here locked up like this?"
    "I don't know."
    I saw it was useless. "Would you please tell the warden or the sheriff that i would like to see him?" i requested.
    The guard locked the door and was gone.
    The metal door was unlocked again. An ugly, shriveled white woman stood in front of the bars. "My name is Mrs. Butterworth and I am the warden of the women's section of the workhouse." She reminded me of a dilapidated horse. "Well, JoAnne, is there something I can do for you?"
    I didn't like her looks or her tone of voice, but i decided to ignore that for the moment and get to the business at hand.
    "When can i be unlocked from this cell and go outside in the big room with the other women?"
    "Well, I don't know, JoAnne. Why do you want to go out there?"
    "Well, i don't want to stay in here all day, locked up by myself. "
    "Why, JoAnne, don't you like your room? It's a very nice room. We had it painted just for you."
    "That's not the point," i said. "I would like to know when i will be able to be with the other women."
    "Well, JoAnne, I don't know when you'll be able to come out. You see, we have to keep you in here for your own safety because there are threats on your life. You know, JoAnne," she said, lower ing her voice like she was speaking confidentially, "cop killers are not very popular in correctional institutions."
    "Have any of the women here made threats against me?" "Well, I don't know, but I'm sure they have.”
    "I'll bet," i said to myself. "Nobody has threatened my life.
    They just don't want to let me outta here.”
    "Well, JoAnne, the important thing is for you to behave and to cooperate with us so that we'll be able to send a good report to the judge. It's important for our girls to behave like ladies."
    This woman was making me sick. Did she think i was fool enough to believe that either she or the