An Interview with Poet
Maya Angelou
By Joan Baum, Ph.D.
That voice!—low, honey-warm, sultry, distinctive—every
word carefully selected and articulated, every thought a weighing
of intention and effect. Yes, this is the woman whose epigrams
for Hallmark cards can take important ideas and press them
into concise and telling lines, such as, If you must look back
do so “forgivingly”; if you will look forward,
do so “prayerfully”; but the wisest course would
be “to be present in the present gratefully.” She
loves the challenge of composing the epigrams, an activity
she refers to with a slightly guttural laugh, as “delicious”—except
that for her, the pith of the prose—or poetry—must
always be an expression of love, compassion, benediction. Her
fluency and joy are even more surprising, as readers of I Know
Why The Caged Bird Sings recall, that she was for five years,
beginning when she was 8, mute, traumatized into silence by
having been raped and then feeling guilty when the criminal
was murdered. Just as remarkable is her heartfelt conviction
that all God’s children are human beings—despite
plenty of proof to the contrary for a child growing up in dirt-poor
Stamps, Arkansas in the 30s and 40s, confronting racism, poverty,
and low expectations. But she speaks only of being “grateful” for
her life, for her paternal grandmother, Momma, her great and
wise mentor, and for her beloved older brother Bailey.
“The first” could well be a standard epithet for
Dr. Maya Angelou (nee Marguerite Johnson) whose breakthrough
accomplishments as an African American woman in so many disciplines
have won her great praise and numerous awards in this country
and abroad. Nouns tumble out in no particular order for she
has typically pursued more than one calling at a time: poet,
playwright, film and stage actress, best-selling author, newspaper
editor, historian, presidential appointee to various commissions
and councils, songwriter, dancer, director, singer, educator
(she has 55 doctorates), although one identity—civil
rights activist—might be said to preempt many of the
others. Still none of these professions even in the aggregate
define the essence of a woman who has become an icon for so
many, especially for those who lost or never had any reason
to value themselves. They sense in her one who has “been
there” and who has emerged with an extraordinary sense
of love for all human beings.
As though eight decades
of a challenging and rich living were not already enough,
Dr. Angelou continues to try to make a difference, especially
for new generations of youngsters, in her role as Reynolds
Professor at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, NC
where she teaches a master class, World Poetry and Dramatic
Performance. Teaching is extremely important to her and teaching
literature an affair of the soul. “To
educate is to liberate,” and great teachers “remind
people of what they already know instinctively,” though
they have wonderful allies in great literature. Bad teaching
is learning by rote and, even if unintentionally, conveying
an attitude of condescension. She is sorry to say so, but she
does—there are teachers today who humiliate, insult,
or remain indifferent or insensitive to their struggling young
charges, many of whom have no stable home. They punish instead
of reward, even demanding that poor behavior and performance
be met by extra reading assignments. What a distortion of literature,
what a block to inculcating self-esteem! “Youngsters
may do wrong but they know in their heart what is right.” How
sad not to appeal to their basic humanity, she says repeatedly.
She is “grateful” that she and Bailey loved to
read and to read aloud to each other. She is also eternally “grateful” to
Momma who taught, never be cruel, always look to good and act
on constructive impulses. You will talk, Momma told the mute
eight-year old, braiding her hair, “when you and the
good Lord are ready.” The course Professor Angelou teaches
reflects that heritage. She tells her students (who come from
all disciplines) that in two weeks they must learn 27 poems. “They
gasp, and then they learn . . .50!” And, when, for example,
black students recite Burns or Dickens and white students perform
her own work or read Walter Mosley, they get to know characters
from the inside, they get to feel the universality of the human
condition.
The hour is late—”I know how old I am, I feel
it in my bones, “ she chuckles—but Dr. Maya Angelou
has miles to go before she sleeps. She’s got plans for
at least through 2008, when she will be 80—more books,
essays and poems, and then a sojourn in Joplin, MO where she
intends to act on a childhood prophecy that one day she would
teach and preach. As for the immediate present, admirers, if
they haven’t already, should check out her latest publication,
a unique collection of childhood memories with Momma in the
kitchen: Hallelujah! The Welcome Table: A Lifetime of Memories
with Recipes (Random House). These include, among other goodies,
Momma’s “smothered chicken, and though good friend
Oprah Winfrey might say the dish is a bit, well, overcooked,
that’s only the culinary part. The loving motive is nothing
if not admirably well done.#
