Even so, she rose

Shea Rowell
Class of 2019

(4/2018) As an English literature major and a total book nerd, choosing which book to review has caused immense personal turmoil. How could I choose between the dozens of stories that have each influenced my life and outlook in some way? It didn’t take me too long, though, to come up with a book that combines all my favorite elements of literature into one work, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, by Maya Angelou.

Whether or not you’ve read the book, the title probably rings a bell. This is the first of a seven-part memoir series by Angelou, tracing the first 17 years of the now-famous poet, writer and activist’s life. Maya Angelou was born under the name Marguerite Annie Johnson in 1928 and died in 2014. The life of a black woman living in the early twentieth century was marked by unimaginable challenges rooted in racism, sexism and poverty, which are all major themes in her memoir.

The first half of the story recounts Angelou’s experience as a young girl, raised by her grandmother in the rural town of Stamps, Arkansas. "No" was simply a part of her life; no black girls allowed in the white school, no time to play, no medical care for black people in town—no. She questioned the world around her. Why was it that white school board officials only recognized black students for their achievements in sports? Why was she not considered beautiful in American culture? She grew up accustomed to these realities, and wary of white people who only came to town when there was trouble. Even as a young child, she was keenly aware of "her place" in a world which rejected her entire race.

In the second half, however, she and her brother Bailey leave Stamps to live with their mother in California. Maya remembers admiring her mother’s glamour, worldliness and skill at getting her way in the world. They face the shock of moving from rural, conservative Arkansas to urban, progressive California. She faces sexual abuse by her mother’s boyfriend, abandonment by her drunken father and even homelessness. It is these struggles, however, which shape her identity.

This story is provocative; it grapples with issues that society still hasn’t resolved today, like racism, sexual assault and even teenage motherhood. It is not, however, aggressive or militaristic. Angelou weaves these themes into her story implicitly, never forcing the reader’s interpretation. She tells her story and invites the reader to listen, recreating the scenes of a small family general store, a black Baptist church in Arkansas, a party across the border to Mexico and even a junkyard gang in California.

Her writing, with brutal honesty and sometimes a touch of humor, describes the irreversible effects of childhood curiosity, and how easy it is for children to accidentally stumble upon the corruption of the adult world. It is a coming-of-age story, but the story never reaches actual adulthood—it ends when Maya is 17 years old. Her youth, brought her the maturity of responsibility, self-confidence and genuine struggle.

I recommend this book because it took me to a new world: not an imaginary world but a world that existed not too long ago, and not too far away from where I live now. Despite these similarities, my own life bears little to no resemblance to Angelou’s. I have never had to face the poverty, the racism and the abuse she faced, and many people in my generation never will—at least, not to the same degree. On the other hand, I will never experience the small, simple community lifestyle Angelou cherished in her childhood. This story treated these elements not as ideals to analyze and study from a distance, but as factors that impacted a real life. I’ve studied racism in history textbooks and learned about the rural American South in documentaries, but in all that study, it is hard to imagine the effects they had on real people. Angelou’s story brings the reader into one such life, but also reminds the reader that these challenges, while their impact was immense, did not define the people who faced them. Angelou was a person, not a demographic; a woman, not a statistic.

I love this book because it is honest, but also poetic. It gives the reader a vivid look at Maya Angelou and the people who knew, loved or hurt her. The famous powerhouse author, civil rights activist and poet, was once a child who didn’t know what the future would hold. Even through this uncertainty, this child who had all the odds stacked against her emerged from her struggles nonetheless.

One of her most famous poems is called "Still I Rise" (I found it on poetryfoundation.org). Part of the poem reads:

"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."

If there is any suitable (and brief) way to summarize I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, it is these lines. It deals with the serious hostilities of the world, the violence and hatred that have always been a plague upon humanity. Yet, it is light. This is not a tragedy. The story ends, not in horrific loss or in heroic victory, but in serene hope in a better future. That future would come for Angelou. She would one day stand, an accomplished writer and scholar, before millions of Americans to read a poem at the inauguration of former President Bill Clinton. The world will never forget her name, and, thanks to Caged Bird and her other autobiographies, we will never forget her story. She will forever be a beacon of hope for those who struggle, and a reminder that extraordinary minds can come from ordinary places.

Read it if you haven’t already; I promise you won’t regret it.

Read other articles by Shea Rowell