![]() She was a writer in every sense of the word, even in how she spoke. I closed my eyes to see her words as she said them, each one decadent and delicious, intentional and thoughtful. Even if I couldn’t see her I could hear her and that was enough. She wore a black gown that fell somewhere around her ankles and the fabric glistened under the strobe light making her body visible from a distance, her face somewhat of a blur, her voice a statue standing taller than everything else. There was no backdrop or staging, she sat in a chair on the stage with a microphone and notes that she only used intermittently. ![]() I arrived early but was still seated what felt like one hundred steps from where she sat on the platform. I was a graduate student at University of South Florida and she was the first speaker in the spring series. I witnessed the gift that is Maya Angelou in person on January 7, 2008. I felt her presence and I will undoubtedly feel her absence. In her I saw all the beauty of black womanhood I was attempting to capture and I knew if I could just make it to the room (where she was), I would be forever changed. She felt like a family member, a friend, a twin. Her righteous resistance and loving demeanor, recorded in six autobiographies, made you want to know her. Her politics would not allow her to be “put in her place.” Instead she made space where none existed and started telling blackgirl stories when they weren’t yet in style. She was a warrior and a survivor, an overcomer and a leader. She was like a grandmother cipher, a master teacher, a wonder. Her words were generous gifts she shared abundantly, painting pictures with poems on the tip of her tongue. And when she spoke the room stood still, held breath, knees touching knees, eyes begging for silence to keep from missing even a whisper of her words, beckoning attitude, calm, wisdom and brilliance all at once. If you were ever blessed to be in the same room with her, you knew she was magic. It is an unnecessary insult.” -Maya Angelou, I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings ![]() “If growing up is painful for the Southern Black girl, being aware of her displacement is the rust on the razor that threatens the throat.
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