Maya Angelou
Welcome to The Piece Palette, a new vision and literary platform formed for women creatives to learn and thrive đź’«
In celebration of Black History Month, our first ever Woman of the Week is Maya Angelou !
Most known for her poetry, civil rights activism and autobiographies, Maya worked several odd jobs to support her son before she rose to fame. These included fry cook, sex worker, nightclub dancer, cast member, and news correspondent.
When she was only eight years old, Maya was raped by her mother’s boyfriend, who was later killed by her uncles when she told him what she had done. Seeing how her voice had the power to end that man’s life, Maya became mute for almost five years. She would later recall “I thought, my voice killed him; I killed that man, because I told his name. And then I thought I would never speak again, because my voice would kill anyone.”
In that time, Maya developed her love of literature and books, emerging to become the singer, playwright, actress, director and writer she is known as today.
One of her most well-known poems, “Still I Rise” stands as a testament to the unshakeable spirit of black people that is used to rise above racism and adversity. It was read by Nelson Mandela in his 1994 inauguration, after having spent 27 years in jail.
Source
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod 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 backyard.
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.
