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The Revelations of Asher

Toward Supreme Love in Self – (This Is an Endarkened, Feminist, New Literacies Event)


Jeanine M. Staples

The Revelations of Asher: Toward Supreme Love in Self is an endarkened, feminist, new literacies event. It critically and creatively explores Black women’s terror in love. With poetry, prose, and analytic memos, Jeanine Staples shows how a group of Black women’s talk and writings about relationships revealed epistemological and ontological revelations, after 9/11. These revelations are presented in the context of a third wave new literacies framework. They are voiced and storied dynamically by the women’s seven fragmented selves. Through the selves, we learn the five ways the women lived as lovers: Main Chick, Side Chick, Bonnie, Bitch, and Victim. As an alternative-response to these identities in love, the author presents a new way. She introduces the Supreme Lover Identity and illuminates its integral connection to social and emotional justice for and through Black women’s wisdom.
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How I got over (Sash speaks, with help from Laish: A poem)


How I got over

The Muthafucka came in me three times that night. He asked me if I liked it. Kept callin’ me “baby.” Can you believe that shit?? After I took that hit. From his rock hard fist.

God. His sweat was everywhere. His mouth was cupped over my ear. He wouldn’t shut up and he spit in my hair. Uhh, God. I could smell the whisky on his breath. It was oozin’ outa his pores. Like a mist. Drippin’ from his skin. Was it gin? …Oh, who the fuck knows. Couldn’t remember what he ordered at dinner. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout what he was doin.

He just kept movin’.

In. Out. In. Out. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder.

Kept askin’ me if I could feel him. Can you believe that shit?? Unfuckingbelievable. I wanted to say HELL NO, you weak, dumb, tiny Muthafucka. His little-ass dick kept pokin’ me like a knife. It for damn sure didn’t match his body. Surprised the shit outa me.

Cause he was fat as hell. And tall. And strong.

Real strong. He pinned me down with his arm…like a club. Laid it straight across my chest, too close to my throat, so I almost choked. He leaned into that shit. So I couldn’t move. That fat Muthafucka knew better than to let me move. He knew I would kill his ← 261 | 262 → dumbass if I could get an...

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