So if I had accepted what people told me I looked like as a negative yes, then I would be dead. My attitude was too arrogant - or tenderhearted. And my mother’s people were very very fair. I of course grew up with my grandmother: my grandmother’s people and my brother are very very black, very lovely. I have looked quite strange in most of the places I have lived in my life, the stages, spaces I’ve moved through.
I just do not allow too many negatives to soil me. I’ve been very fortunate… I seem to have a kind of blinkers. Reflecting on her life, Angelou - who rose to cultural prominence through the sheer tenacity of her character and talent, despite being born into a tumultuous working-class family, abandoned by her father at the age of three, and raped at the age of eight - tells Rich: Angelou’s timeless wisdom shines with unparalleled light in a 1977 interview by journalist Judith Rich, found in Conversations with Maya Angelou ( public library) - the same magnificent tome that gave us the beloved author’s conversation with Bill Moyers on freedom - in which Angelou explores issues of identity and the meaning of life. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.The light of the world has grown a little dimmer with the loss of the phenomenal Maya Angelou (April 4, 1928–May 28, 2014), but her legacy endures as a luminous beacon of strength, courage, and spiritual beauty. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by an NPR contractor. Visit our website terms of use and permissions pages at for further information. SIEGEL: Maya Angelou died today at the age of 86.Ĭopyright © 2014 NPR. She wrote, listen to yourself, and in that quietude, you might hear the voice of God. Maya Angelou reading her poem "Still I Rise." The author's gift with words was apparent, even in less than 140 characters.īLOCK: Five days ago, Angelou tweeted one last time. Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the hope and the dream of the slave, and so I rise. Into a daybreak, miraculously clear, I rise. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear, I rise. Welding and swelling, I bear in the tide. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise that I dance as if I have diamonds at the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame, I rise. You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like life, I'll rise. Just like moons and like suns with the certainty of tides, just like hopes springing high, still I rise.ĭid 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? (Laughing) Don't take it awful hard just 'cause I laugh (laughing) as if I've got gold mines digging in my own backyard. You may trod me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I'll rise.ĭoes my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? Just 'cause I walk like I've got oil wells pumping in my living room. MAYA ANGELOU: You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lies. And we're going to take a moment now to listen to one of Maya Angelou's best-known poems.
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