MAYA ANGELOU
1) To start off, tell us about your life growing up. Where were you born, and did you have any family?
- Born on April 4th, 1928 in St. Louis, Missouri
- Moved to Stamps, Arkansas after the end of my parents’ marriage to live with my grandmother who worked at a general store
- I lived with my brother Bailey, it was him who gave me the name “Maya,” originally my name is Marguerite Annie Johnson
2) This may be a difficult yet important subject – you were raped by your mother’s boyfriend, correct?
- Yes; when I visiting my mother in St. Louis I was raped by her boyfriend
- I was only eight years old
4) What did you do following the rape?
- I testified, in court, against the man
- After I spoke his name in court, a few of my uncles beat him to death
5) Would you say that this had a significant impact on your life?
- Most certainly. Following my testimony and the rapist’s death, I blamed myself. I believed that I had caused that man’s death by speaking his name in court.
- I refused to speak for approximately five years
6) How would your describe the influence being mute had on you?
- As a result of my muteness, a love for language blossomed with the help of my grade eight teacher Mrs. Flowers.
- Mrs. Flowers was an educated black woman who emphasized the importance of spoken word and explained to me the nature and importance of education, it was at this time in my life that my love for poetry came about.
- During my time of silence, I read the works of black authors such as Langston Hughes, W.E.B Du Bois, and Paul Laurence Dunbar. I also enjoyed the work of Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, and Edgar Allan Poe which instigated my love of writing and language.
7) Are there any significant figures that influenced your writing?
- James Baldwin, Paul Laurence Dunbar, and Dr. Martin Luther King, most definitely.
- When I joined the Harlem Writers Guild in 1950 I was blessed with the opportunity to meet James Baldwin and many other important writers, I was also able to hear Dr. Martin Luther King speak
8) Adding on to the previous question, how did James Baldwin and Dr. Martin Luther King influence your writing?
- James, ah yes, he had a great generosity of spirit. He inspired me through his ability to transgress categories of writing such as defining gender
- Martin Luther inspired me to become a part of the struggle for civil rights, I was even offered a position as the northern coordinator for Dr. King.
9) Interesting! Now, what would you say is an “identifier” or a “typicality” of your work? How would you describe your writing style?
- I like to think of myself as a storyteller; I write so people can visually see the story I am telling them. As a storyteller, my ability to describe is essential, the words I write may be simple but every word is important – I never waste one. I use language and diction that is relatable to my audience, but at the same time I do so in a poetic way; however, my prose may sound “flowery” but everything I write is for a reason – you just have to find that reason.
10) Adding on to the previous question, we would like to know your personal outlook on life. What is your philosophy?
- I like to think about life in a realistic way; I view the world through my own personal lens, I tend to look at what will benefit me because I believe that if I am doing the best the rest of the world will take care of itself.
- Perhaps my personal philosophy is one of liberation, I escaped the South (Stamps) only to return to its warm embrace, I tend to do that – return to the places I escaped from.
Typicality of Maya Angelou
Style: Storytelling, imagery, relatable, simple yet poetic diction and syntax
Form: Poetry, Autobiographies, Plays, Movie scripts, Essays.
Themes: Racism, Identity, Family, and Travel.
How do you begin writing?
“You have to get to a very quiet place inside yourself. And that doesn’t mean that you can’t have noise outside. I know some people who put jazz on, loudly, to write. I think each writer has her or his secret path to the muse. I’m told one writer stands for six hours with a typewriter on a podium—he stands and types. And I know a woman who has her computer in a closet and she goes in, closes the door, and, with her back to the door and her face to the wall, she writes.”
Can anyone write a poem?
“Yes, I think so. I don’t know if anyone will write a poem. You have to want to. You have to have sharp ears. And you have to not be afraid of being human.”
“When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, what we’re capable of, how we feel, how we lose and stand up, and go on from darkness into darkness. I’m trying for that. But I’m also trying for the language. I’m trying to see how it can really sound. I really love language. I love it for what it does for us, how it allows us to explain the pain and the glory, the nuances and delicacies of our existence. And then it allows us to laugh, allows us to show wit. Real wit is shown in language. We need language.”
Maya Angelou’s Influence on Me
To me, Maya Angelou has always been a source of inspiration to me because “Still I Rise” was the first poem that made me feel. It wasn’t like all the other poetry that I’ve read because I felt that her words had boosted my self-confidence. I also enjoy how she employs the “call and response” technique because I found that it furthered the connection a writer has with their audience – it is a technique I would like to use in my own poetry. Additionally, I have always admired Maya Angelou because my mom would always say “Be a rainbow in somebody else’s cloud” which is something that has always stuck in my heart, because I always feel that kindness is the most important gift a person has to offer.
“Still I Rise” - 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.