Stavros
05-29-2014, 06:51 AM
Maya Angelou's famous memoir I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, established her reputation as a writer of uncommon elegance and beauty, capable of documenting a life of such trauma and challenge it is remarkable that she even survived, let alone to become such a positive, distinguished figure. Her struggles were part of the ordinary everyday struggles of Black people in an age of segregation, as if the word 'ordinary' could in fact represent what at its core was a form of social brutality, based on ignorance and resentment. Maya Angelou rose above the temptation to bitterness and recrimination and yet I wonder if the complex demons of her past enabled her to make spectacular mis-judgenments, speaking at the 'Million-man march' organised by Louis Farrakhan, a man not known for showing in iota of respect for women, least of all Black women; defending a thug like Mike Tyson when she could have defended his victim. But she declared she was not a feminist and I wonder how complex are the ways in which Black American women view each other -I don't know what she thought of Black transwomen, assuming she knew they even existed. She did go through a phase when she thought she might be a Lesbian, and certainly Angelou for her part inspired transwomen, like Janet Mock -
"At this time a year ago, I felt trapped, inhibited by stories I had kept secret for so long. Maya Angelou frequently sang to me in bed, her voice so deep it shook my soul awake at night:
There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."
http://janetmock.com/2012/01/02/telling-your-truth-storytelling/
Out of that complex past, Maya Angelou's voice sings on for those who are prepared to listen. She had an ability to inspire hope in a language both defiant and forgiving, critical and warm, and if you read her books or most of the obituaries you will encounter the extraordinary life of an extraordinary woman. And her best poem is one of the best.
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
"At this time a year ago, I felt trapped, inhibited by stories I had kept secret for so long. Maya Angelou frequently sang to me in bed, her voice so deep it shook my soul awake at night:
There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."
http://janetmock.com/2012/01/02/telling-your-truth-storytelling/
Out of that complex past, Maya Angelou's voice sings on for those who are prepared to listen. She had an ability to inspire hope in a language both defiant and forgiving, critical and warm, and if you read her books or most of the obituaries you will encounter the extraordinary life of an extraordinary woman. And her best poem is one of the best.
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.