Maya Angelou’s dignity and bravery gave one young man “rich chunks of hope” that he would survive, and eventually thrive.
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I need strong women to make me a better man. Maya Angelou is more than my literary hero.
I suffered abuse about which I have not written. The memoir I’ve just finished doesn’t even whisper that part of my story. As a teenager, I was too confused to speak about it.
When I was thirteen, I overheard what I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings was about. I read the book as I sat in the aisle of my Little Rock, Arkansas high school library, afraid to check it out. I skipped ahead then went back to page one; my mind raced through the pages. I placed the book back on the shelf. I returned often to read her words. She was a medicine. I closed the book that opened my mind, thrilled by our similarities. I am equally jealous of her craft and bravery.
I was so hungry for an explanation to my circumstance that I couldn’t slow down and savor all of her gorgeously written imagery; however, I knew that her story was my story. Her choices were different, but her dignity and bravery gave me rich chunks of hope that I too would survive and thrive.
Maya Angelou, “people will never forget how you made them feel.”
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Photo: Loughborough University Library/Flickr