[NEohioPAL] The Art of Becoming A Sacred Bitch

[Roschelle Ogbuji]

The Art of Becoming A Sacred Bitch!

I would like to invite you to a reading this Saturday, November 22, 2025,
at UUCC, located at 21600 Shaker Blvd, Shaker Heights, Ohio.

The doors will open at 5:00 PM, and the reading will start promptly at 6:00
PM.

BYOB Wine or Not to enjoy while watching!
We hope to see you there.

Best,
Roschelle Ogbuji
Dramaturg’s Note

By Brad Raymond

What happens when the sacred and profane share the same breath? When grief,
rage, sensuality, and divinity all live in the same body?
The Art of Becoming a Sacred Bitch is not simply a one-woman show—it is a
resurrection. A reckoning. A ritual.

This work asks: What does it mean to name yourself when the world tries to
erase you? What does healing sound like when spoken in the voice of a
mother who has lost everything? What does holiness look like when it’s
dripping in sarcasm, salt, sweat, and sacred oil?

Roschelle Ogbuji’s piece is both deeply personal and profoundly universal.
Through the framework of poetic monologue, she brings us into the most
intimate rooms of a woman’s becoming—rooms where abuse is survived, faith
is tested, motherhood is shattered, and desire becomes a kind of protest.
Each scene is a portal: a memory, a sermon, a fight, a prayer, a dare.

As dramaturg, my role is to sit in the liminal space between script and
stage—ensuring that the language, structure, history, and emotional logic
of this piece supports the weight of its truth. In this work, that meant
honoring both the precision of the pain and the liberation of the language.
Roschelle’s voice is not only poetic; it is prophetic. It dares to speak of
things many of us are told to survive silently. But here, in this sacred
circle of storytelling, silence is broken wide open.

The journey of this show unfolds in three acts: Descent, Wrestle, and
Rise—mirroring
the ancient rites of transformation which is something like a spiral that
overlaps on itself while still moving forward because trauma is not linear.
It spirals. It shifts form. So does healing. And so, the voice of the
sacred bitch evolves across time: from a wounded girl, to a furious woman,
to a resurrected soul who redefines holiness on her own terms.

We do not offer this piece with easy answers or neat bows. This is not a
morality tale. This is a survival hymn. A reclamation of body, voice,
spirit, and story.

May you enter this space ready to weep, to laugh, to flinch, to breathe
deeply.
May you walk out with a deeper reverence for the women who dare to name
themselves sacred.

And may you leave remembering:
Bitch is a prayer word.
And sometimes, prayer sounds like a scream.
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