Happy Birthday, Maya Angelou

It would be hard to top the tribute of the Google doodle today, the many voices reading her poem, “Still I Rise.”

But for me, Maya Angelou will always be first and foremost a prose writer, the author of the most amazing series of autobiographies I’ve ever read. If you’re unfamiliar with them, let me assure you you’re missing something: they are immensely entertaining, fast-paced, and she seemed to be involved in many of the momentous political and social changes the last fifty years. She was a dancer, a singer, and an activist, a poet and a writer, a voice for women, black women, African-Americans, for all of us, really. I will continue to reread her amazing autobiography every couple of years, for the pithy writing, for the adventures. They’re like reading Captain Blood or Scaramouche, only written by a woman, and all true.

First female cable-car operator in San Francisco. Part of the traveling company of Porgy and Bess touring the USSR. Dancer and singer during the Calypso craze (which I actually remember because we had all Harry Belafonte’s records — “That’s right! The woman is — smarter!”) Friends with Martin Luther King and Malcolm X and James Baldwin (who encouraged her to write). Lived in Ghana during the time when former colonies were gaining their independence, one after another. Commissioned to deliver the poem at the Presidential inauguration. Incredibly damaging and yet rich childhood. The documentary Bill Moyers made about her visit to Stamps, Arkansas to revisit the scenes of her childhood, affects me every time I see it.

If you’ve never read these marvelous books, start with I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. You’re in for a treat.