Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Honoring Maya Angelou (1928-2014)

This year we lost one of the most important and influential writers, poets, and essayists of African American--and American Literature. Maya Angelou passed away today in her Winston-Salem home at the age of eighty-six.

Marguerite Johnson was born in 1928, and "before she and her brother [Bailey] were old enough to start school, her parents divorced. Angelou and her brother grew up in Stamps, Arkansas," and were cared for by "their grandmother, Annie Henderson." In the autobiographical text that has been recognized as Angelou's finest, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, the author recounts the events of her first seventeen years, and the methods of surviving the Jim Crow South taught to her by her benevolent and resilient grandmother. However, a traumatic event she endured at age ten drove her into a state of silence that was broken only by her love of literature (Hill). I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings could easily be located in a feminist genre, inspiring other feminist (and Womanist) writers like Toni Morrison and Alice Walker; however her writing transcended racial, gender, and socio-economic lines and touched readers across multiple demographics.

In the more than eight decades that Angelou lived, she produced volumes of poetry and essays, and became a formidable instrument of change in the Civil Rights Movement, acting as the northern coordinator for the SCLC, and in her cooperative associations with leaders such as Martin Luther King and Malcolm X. Her marriage to Vus Make led her to a fuller absorption into African culture, and though the marriage did not last, extended Angelou's influence as an advocate of civil rights and liberties on a global scale (Hill).

Clearly the author's talents reached beyond the pen and page and extended to the theater, for which her talents earned her a Tony; a successful nightclub performance; and her performance as the grandmother of Kunta Kinte in the television adaptation of Alex Haley's Roots earned her acclaim. Further accolades include her over thirty honorary doctorates, accomplishments in film and stage, and the lecture circuit (2). The nation recalls her recitation of "On the Pulse of Morning" at the 1993 presidential inauguration of fellow Arkansas native, Bill Clinton:

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.The dinosaur, who left dry 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.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no more hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.
The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,
Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.
The River sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.
Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot ...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning (3).

Maya Angelou's work, life, and influence have made an indelible mark upon this nation, our lives, and our literature.

Works Consulted:
Call and Response: The Riverside Anthology of the African American Literary      Tradition. Patricia Liggins Hill, ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1998. 1577.

"Maya Angelou." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_Angelou. 28 May 2014.           .

"Maya Angelou, Lyrical Witness of the Jim Crow South, Dies at 86." NewYork Times Online. 28 May 2014.                                                             

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