This past Wednesday, Maya Angelou passed away. As a writer, I feel compelled to have a post about her.
Maya Angelou was a woman who held many titles. Ranging from poet to author, and even to actress. Yet the most dignified title was simply the one she carried of her name.
Angelou had a rough life. At a young age she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend. She told her brother, who told the rest of the family. The man who raped Maya was only in jail for a day, but murdered shortly after. After the murder, Maya did not speak for five years because she thought her voice killed him. She felt that because she spoke up, he was killed.
All of the works from Maya reflect the traumas and obstacles she faced as a child. Whether it be the poem, “Phenomenal Woman,” or “Still I Rise,” Maya makes a point in letting readers know she survived. Regardless of whether she was talking about issues of race or gender, she made sure everyone knew she was a force to be reckoned with.
As a writer, I appreciate all she has been able to put into words. As a woman, I appreciate the stands she took through her risks in writing. She was a truly beautiful soul; who exemplified that we should all trust our struggles, for they are a part of our stories.