I was on Mackinac Island at the policy conference when I received the news that Maya Angelou had passed. Immediately a colleague of mine asked me on the porch of the Grand Hotel if I had met the woman whose didactic book, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” took the world by storm and put in real context the bitter struggles Black women underwent during the Jim Crow era.
I told my friend that though I had interviewed many pioneering women, including the late Dr. Dorothy Height, Dr. Angelou was one of few icons I had not. But her powerful story conveyed through her writings over the years inspired me, and her strong sense of identity defining for us what life really means and how we should utilize our talents to transform society are admirable.
Any definition of the history of the struggles of Black women — and women in general — is incomplete if it fails to capture the enormous contributions made by Angelou throughout the great pipelines of history, especially in the Jim Crow South where she rose to expose one of the greatest evils ever known to mankind.
Any approach to understanding the hardships that Black women went through before the suffrage movements began must first appreciate the contributions of Dr. Angelou. Her work shed light on the promise of freedom and strengths exemplified by the lives of Black female slave ancestors.
In fact, in her poems we see many glimpses of “Twelve Years a Slave,” something that shows the wisdom and poetic genius of Angelou. Her wisdom has prophetic resonance, calling humanity to reckon with the great ideals of justice, equality, fairness, unity and love.
Out of a voicelessness conveyed by her tragic story of growing up in “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” came the greatest literary voice that helped to shape the essence of womanhood and humanity in both the 20th and 21st centuries.
She was a lone female literary voice writing about the wilderness of the South, simultaneously challenging its hypocrisy and affirming its humanity.
When I had the opportunity of keynoting the Founders’ Day Luncheon of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority three years ago, where Rev. Mayowa Reynolds of Fellowship Chapel was being honored as Woman of the Year, I could think of no other individual — as a renaissance woman — who has had a bigger impact on the lives of women and young girls in the U.S. and around world than Dr. Maya Angelou.
When I think about Dr. Angelou I think about my own grandmother who was not a literary powerhouse like Angelou, but had the gentle soul of Maya Angelou. When she sat me down at the table of life to teach me crucial lessons and recall her own upbringing, and explaining the place that “women once belonged,” as opposed to gender equality, it was reminicent of Dr. Angelou who sat all of us at the table of life through her writings.
What made Angelou a literary force on the global stage was the authencitiy of her personal story that many can identify with.
Millions from around the world, including Africa where she lived for a while before returning home, connected with her experiences and saw their own lives through her own existence. In the face of dangerous resistance her life journey was also their own story.
That is because like a griot, a storyteller and communicator in traditional African society, Dr. Angelou was able to weave together the strands of personal history in connection with the dynamic essence of a collective history.
Dr. Maya Angelou was an American griot.
This giant of a woman for decades stood tall like a tree with flowers of love, unity, courage and leadership for the world to benefit.
One of the strong features of Dr. Angelou’s life was the interplay between life and art. As an artist she understood the vital role that art plays in sorting out the complexities of life. She knew that art was a powerful tool that could be used to break down the racial, cultural and social barriers, and enhance our appreciation of each other’s cultural distinctions as well as the intrinsic qualities we all possess.
She demonstrated to us that art was essential to the human spirit and that it can be used to influence our way of life, ensuring that our shared humanity matters more than the personal and sometimes trivial matters that have no redeeming value for the public good.
As someone who was approaching a century of life, Dr. Angelou understood that life is a stage on which each person has come to play their part.
Playing a significant role on the literary stage, Dr. Maya Angelou, who was a great lover of the writings of William Shakespeare, saw the truth in what he said: “All the world’s a stage. And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances.”
As a writer, Dr. Angelou also drew inspiration from the writings of the celebrated African-American poet Paul Lawrence Dunbar.
When Dr. Angelou received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Barack Obama in 2011, it was a completion of a cycle of history.
Little did anyone know that a child of the of Jim Crow South who was courageous enough to tell her story by documenting it in a book for the world to read, would later receive the highest civilian honor in the nation from the first Black president.
President Obama described her as “one of the brightest lights of our time. A brilliant writer, a fierce friend and a truly phenomenal woman.”
He said Dr. Angelou’s “childhood of suffering and abuse actually drove her to stop speaking, but the voice she found helped generations of Americans find their rainbow amidst the clouds, and inspired the rest of us to be our best selves.”
The president added, “Over the course of her remarkable life, Maya was many things: an author, poet, civil rights activist, playwright, actress, director, composer, singer and dancer. But above all, she was a storyteller, and her greatest stories were true.”
With an enduring legacy, Dr. Angelou has delivered more addresses and commencement speeches that few can match.
In 1982, she gave the commencement address at Wellesley College, an all-women institution that has produced many female leaders including Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. She spoke about the importance of virtue.
“It is upon you to increase your virtue, the virtue of courage, it is upon you. You will be challenged mightily, and you will fall many times. But it is important to remember that it may be necessary to encounter defeat, I don’t know. But I do know that a diamond, one of the most precious elements in this planet, certainly, one in many ways the hardest, is the result of extreme pressure, and time. Under less pressure, it’s crystal. Less pressure than that, it’s coal, less than that, its fossilized leaves are just plain dirt,” Angelou told the Welleseley graduates.
Dr. Maya Angelou crossed every Rubicon with grace and dignity. She found her place in history and showed us the power of what one individual can do. She was a tremendous force for good and a phenomenal woman we have lost to the ages. Nothing can replace her majestic voice and her powerful intellect and wisdom. Because of her we are all better human beings. Very few have walked the face of the earth the way Dr. Angelou did. But what we can learn from her is the lessons she taught us through her writings. As she once said, “When it looked like the sun would not shine anymore, each of us has the possibility of being a rainbow in the clouds to somebody else.”
One of her most poignant poems is titled “Still I Rise.” Here is an exerpt as we reflect on the well lived life of Dr. Maya Angelou who would be memorialized June 7 at Wake Forest University where she taught for years.
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.
Bankole Thompson is the editor of the Michigan Chronicle. His most recent book, “Obama and Christian Loyalty,” deals with the politics of the religious right, Black theology and the president’s faith posture across a myriad of issues with an epilogue written by former White House spokesman Robert S. Weiner. He is a senior political analyst at WDET-101.9FM (Detroit Public Radio) and a member of the weekly “Obama Watch” Sunday roundtable on WLIB-1190AM New York. Email bthompson@michronicle.com or visit https://www.bankolethompson.com.
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