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Maya Angelou, 'black woman's laureate' and worldwide inspiration, dies aged 86

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The American poet and writer Maya Angelou has died at her home in North Carolina at the age of 86. A statement from Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, where she had served as a professor of American studies since 1982, called Angelou "a national treasure whose life and teachings inspired millions around the world". In 1993, she recited her poem ‘On the Pulse of Morning’ at the inauguration of President Bill Clinton, the first poet to make an inaugural recitation since Robert Frost at John F Kennedy's inauguration in 1961. She had reportedly been in bad health and had cancelled recent scheduled appearances.

Angelou was born Marguerite Annie Johnson, in St Louis, Missouri, in 1928. She grew up in the segregated south, survived a childhood rape, gave birth as a teenager, and was, at one time, a prostitute. Although she is best known for her seven autobiographies, she was also been a prolific and successful poet, and has been called "the black woman's poet laureate". The civil rights campaigner's honours included a Pulitzer Prize nomination for her book of poetry, Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water 'fore I Diiie. Angelou studied and began writing poetry at a young age, and used it to cope with her rape as a young girl, as described in her most well-known autobiographical work, I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings. On the evening of her death on Thursday 28 May, Channel 4 News ended its bulletin with film of Maya Angelou reciting her poem '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. 

 
Maya Angelou

 

 

 

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John Gibson

Thu 29th May 2014 17:54

RIP Maya..`You have risen`

<Deleted User> (12318)

Thu 29th May 2014 15:36

Prolific author who kept on writing to the end. A great loss.

I particularly like this rebuke in her book "The heart of a Woman" by Billie Holiday to Maya's son Guy recounted from 1957

An Encounter with Billie Holiday

On the night before Billie was leaving for New York, she told Guy she was going to sing "Strange Fruit" as her last song. . . .

Billie talked and sang in a hoarse, dry tone the well-known protest song. Her rasping voice and phrasing literally enchanted me. I saw the black bodies hanging from Southern trees. I saw the lynch victims' blood glide from the leaves down the trunks and onto the roots. . . .

Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes…..

Guy was intrigued and broke into her song. "What's a pastoral scene, Miss Holiday?"

Billie looked up slowly and studied Guy for a second. Her face became cruel, and when she spoke her voice was scornful.

"It means when the crackers are killing the niggers. It means when they take a little nigger like you and snatch off his nuts and shove them down his goddam throat. That's what it means."

That should have been enough to curb any further interruptions from the 12 year old and have him cowering in a corner.

RIP

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Richard

Thu 29th May 2014 11:42

RIP

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Linda Cosgriff

Thu 29th May 2014 11:37

I was so sad to read of her death yesterday. An amazing woman who will be very much missed. We often say that about those who have just died, but it's actually true in this case.

THE BIRD IS FREE

04/04/1928-28/05/14

A shock, this day, for we
who loved a poet, now departed.

She leaves her mark – bright tokens
of her sojourn here -

on each library floor.
Don’t be alarmed: her words

will not be lost in looming dust.
They cry out to us today -

<i>You never stamped on me.
I never hid my face.</i>

***

***

An extract from On the Pulse of Morning, by Maya Angelou:

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon,
The dinosaur, who left dried tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
[...]
The Rock cries out to us today,
You may stand upon me,
But do not hide your face.


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Laura Taylor

Thu 29th May 2014 09:32

Thanks for putting this up Greg. I was very upset when I heard the news yesterday, to the point of tears (which is very unlike me). I read her autobiography when I was at Uni and it was one of those life-changing reads. She was so brutally honest about her flaws, her vulnerabilities, which is completely unlike your average autobiog.

The events that she took part in, the way her values and beliefs changed, her strength and fierce determination, and all of the hardship she endured take my breath away. We just lost a diamond.

RIP Ms Angelou

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