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How do you adequately
explain the impact that the late Dr. Maya Angelou
(1928-2014) had on your life?
As a self-described strong
and deeply historic African-American woman, who upholds her
cultural heritage as a source of great dignity and pride, it
was difficult for me, a writer, to hear the news of the
transition of one of the greatest authors in history – our
dear sister Maya, the matriarch of all African- American
female writers. May 28, 2014 will forever be remembered as a
day to honor this amazing woman.
The news of her death was
not so much upsetting, for I find solace in my belief that
she is with our amazing Creator, probably writing a book, or
waxing poetic on some amazing part two, Good Night answer to
her famous poem On the Pulse of Morning.
It may be for more selfish
reasons that her transition to the other side was hard to
digest.
I grew up in a household
where black cultural literature – fiction and non-fiction –
were abundant. Whether it was my mother reading Nikki
Giovanni’s poem My House to me as a young girl
instead of Dr. Seuss, or seeing my father dog ear a page to
Black Like Me by journalist John Howard Griffin,
words written by or about African Americans were
commonplace. My uncle had books upon books, and still does
to this day, about the fascinating history of African
Americans, and my best friend in Chicago was related to the
late Sam Greenlee who wrote The Spook Who Sat by the Door.
Black literature was, and still is, a major part of my DNA.
So as a young teen, that
bright orange and yellow cover with the black bird on the
front of the book jacket was certainly a work that was
familiar and rested among many other greats works on the
book shelves of my youth. Dr. Angelou’s 1969
autobiographical tale, the first in a seven-volume series,
titled I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings was that
book. The one that resonated in my soul, that resided
deep in my spirit for its transformational qualities of a
young Maya from victim to one whom beautifully, critiqued
the world of racism that was a part of her existence.
I was only four-years-old
when Dr. Angelou wrote this masterpiece, and when I read it
only several years later as a young teen, it stung me like
it probably did my now 14-year-old twin daughters when they
read this work as required reading at Timberstone Junior
High School in English class.
This work would be read
again during my high school years, and again in college, and
several times over as an adult woman. I viewed I Know Why
the Caged Bird Sings as a blueprint for how to navigate
a sometimes unfair world.
Fast forward to the year
1991, when Dr. Angelou wrote a collection of poetry titled
I Shall Not Be Moved. I was working as a local
newspaper journalist and decided that I would write a book
review of her work and call her for a telephone interview
from her then office in North Carolina. I was 35 and she was
62 at the time, and I was so nervous about calling this
literary giant!
Would she pierce the
perfect image I had of her – strong, kind, bold,
intelligent? Would she be kind to me, would she view my
questions as deep and meaningful? I set up the interview
through her agent and when this strong and deep voice said
HELLO, it was as if the Earth shattered and my heart gave
way.
I’m big into protocol, so
I plunged into my niceties and thanked her profusely for
agreeing to take time out of busy schedule, blah, blah blah.
And then, as if she was my own relative, maybe a great and
favored aunt, my nerves calmed as she thanked ME for taking
time from MY busy schedule to interview HER! Dr. Angelou’s
humble character was revealed to me at that moment and I
would be forever changed.
We chatted for about an
hour about her book, her method for writing poetry, about
black people, about women, about the universe and so many
other interesting subjects.
I found it fascinating
when she told me that her poem “Our Grandmothers,” that
begins with the scenario of a slave grandmother on an
attempt to attain her freedom, was one that had been
“working with her” for about five to six years.
She shared that she had a
WIP or Work In Progress box, where poems or thoughts just
presented their thoughts her way, and that was the safe
place where they were housed.
In that interview, Dr.
Angelou called the United States, these “yet to be United
States.”
She wowed me in that
moment, and taught me how to remain hopeful, and live life
to the fullest, yet critique injustice at every opportunity.
Dr. Angelou taught me to document African-American history
due simply to its worthiness. That I had a rightful place
even if I were the only one, just like in her poem
Worker’s Song which stated that “despite it all I
have come to this place to stay and I have and I will stay
with some dignity through pain and even death and
loneliness.”
That interview alone would
move me to celebrate my very identity, to embrace a personal
dignity, and define my writing path and journey.
I would be blessed to
interview Dr. Angelou again in 1993 during a visit to The
University of Toledo for a keynote speaking engagement. All
of the feelings and then some would be conjured up as I
spoke to her on the phone and in person.
When local 13abc anchor
Kristian Brown phoned me to interview me for an interview
about my thoughts about Dr. Angelou’s death. I didn’t
prepare any words and spoke straight from the heart. I
viewed Ms. Brown’s request as a sign from Dr. Angelou that
she was distributing torches to younger women like myself
and Ms. Brown and a host of others. She wrote her books for
women like us, for women who have room to still rise!
Dr. Angelou, it was
described in history that you passed quietly in your home on
Wednesday, May 28, 2014, but I am forever thankful that you
lived out loud. Thank you for showing us that no matter what
the circumstances, And Still I Rise!
****Dr. Maya Angelou (1928-2014)****
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