Maya Angelou [author]

Welcome to Headstones and microphones, where we use AI to step into the past through a researched, first-person simulation of history's most interesting people. I am your host, Calvin. While we've added some creative storytelling, our goal is to inspire your own study of these fascinating lives. Now, let's meet our guest. I am absolutely flot in today because I am sitting across from a woman whose words have healed millions. For those who may somehow not know who you are, who are you? Oh, Calvin, it is a joy to be here. My goodness, thank you for such a warm welcome. I am Maya Angelou. I have been many things in this life, a singer, a dancer, an activist, and a cook, but most people know me as a writer who try to tell the truth about what it means to be human. You've lived enough for ten people. Let's go back to the start. When and where were you born? I was born on April 4, 1928 in St. Louis, Missouri. And what was your given name at birth? My mother and father named me Marguerite Annie Johnson. Is there a story behind your birth name? Well, Marguerite was a fine name, but my brother Bailey, who was my whole world, couldn't quite wrap his tongue around it when we were small. He started calling me Maya, short for Maya sister. It stuck so well that I eventually just added the last name Angelou from my first husband, and Maya Angelou was born. That is so sweet. What was your hometown like growing up? Most of my childhood was spent in Stamps, Arkansas. It was a small, dusty town. It was segregated, which meant we lived in a very tight-knit black community. Life centered around the church and my grandmother's general store. It was a place of great hardship, but also great love and faith. What was your family life like? It was a bit like a seesaw. My parents' marriage ended when I was very young, and Bailey and I were sent alone on a train to live with our grandmother Annie Henderson, whom we called Mama. She was a mountain of a woman, strong, dignified, and deeply religious. Later, I lived with my mother Vivian Baxter, who was a firecracker of a woman. She was a professional nurse and a car dealer, very glamorous, and very tough. What kind of kid were you? I was a very quiet child for a long time. In fact, for about five years, I didn't speak at all. I was in elective mute. I thought my voice had the power to kill, so I locked it away. I spent those years reading every book I could find and listening to the world. I was a library of a child. What were your biggest fears growing up? I feared the unknown, and I feared that I didn't belong anywhere. Being sent back and forth between parents and grandparents makes a child wonder where their home really is. But mostly, I feared that I wouldn't find my place in a world that seemed so intent on keeping me small. What did you dream of becoming as a child? When I finally started speaking again, I wanted to be everything, but deeply I wanted to be a person of consequence. I didn't know if that meant being a teacher or a performer. I just knew I wanted to use my life to say something. What were some of your favorite activities in school? I loved literature and poetry. Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe were my friends when I wouldn't talk to anyone else. I also loved dance. Movement was another way for me to speak when my mouth was shut. What was your first job? Oh, I had many, but one I am very proud of is being the first black female street car conductor in San Francisco. I was only 16, and they didn't want to hire me, but my mother told me to go sit in that office every day until they did. And I did. That's incredible. Was there a moment where you realized you were different from everyone else? It was probably during my time in San Francisco. I realized that my will was stronger than the barriers people put in front of me. I realized that I didn't have to fit into a box. I could build my own house. What's a decision that changed everything for you, but felt small at the time? Deciding to go to a dinner party where I met James Baldwin. He became like a brother to me. He was the one who challenged me to write my autobiography. If I hadn't gone to that dinner, I might never have written I know why the cage bird sings. What was your biggest break? It was definitely the publication of I Know Why the Cajeword sings in 1969. It was the first time a black woman's life story had been shared in that way, and it opened doors I didn't even know existed. What were your biggest struggles before success? I was a single mother at 17. I had to work as a waitress, a cook, and a singer in strip clubs just to keep a roof over my son's head. There were many times when I didn't know how we would make it, but the struggle gave me my strength. Did you ever consider quitting? Quitting what? Life? No! Writing. Sometimes the words wouldn't come and I'd feel frustrated, but I knew that the only way out was through. You can't quit being who you are. Were there any specific daily habits or routines that you feel are essential to your success? I had a very specific way of writing. I would rent a hotel room, leave the walls bare, and take nothing with me but a bottle of sherry, a deck of cards, a legal pad, and a Bible. I needed that isolation to hear my own heart. I'd be there at 6.30 in the morning every day. What job would you have had if fame never happened? I think I would have been a very good teacher, or perhaps a chef. I love to feed people. To me, cooking for someone is a way of saying, "I love you." How did relationships change after success? You learn who your real friends are. Success can be a bright light that blinds some people, but for those who truly know you, it's just more room to grow. I was blessed to have friends like Oprah Winfrey and James Baldwin who saw me, not the fame. Did fame bring happiness? Fame brings options, but happiness comes from within. Happiness is being able to look in the mirror and like the person looking back at you. What was the downside of becoming famous? The loss of privacy and the pressure of people expecting you to have all the answers. I'm just a human being, searching for the light just like everyone else. What misconceptions did people have about you? People often thought I was always, quote, "stately" and serious. But I loved to laugh. I had a wicked sense of humor and I loved a good joke. I wasn't a monument. I was a living woman. What's something people misunderstood about your life? Some people thought things came easily to me because of the way I spoke or wrote. They didn't see the years of silence or the years of working three jobs at once. My grace was earned in the fire. Tell me about a time when everything went wrong and how did you handle it? When my dear friend Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated on my birthday, I was devastated. I stopped celebrating my birthday for years. I handled it by turning to my work and trying to keep his dream alive through my words and my activism. Who had the biggest influence on your life? My grandmother, Mama. She taught me that if I put my hand in God's hand, I could walk through any storm. And my brother Bailey, who taught me how to love. What was life like in your final years? It was full of teaching. I loved my time as a professor at Wake Forest University. Being around young people and seeing their sparks ignite, that was a great gift. What were you working on in your career before you passed away? I was always writing. I was working on more essays and poetry. I was also very involved in mentoring the next generation of artists and leaders. When and where did you pass away? I passed away on May 28, 2014 at my home in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. I was 86 years old. What's a random fact about you? Most people have never heard. I was a professional, calypso singer and dancer. I even recorded an album called "Mist Calypso" in 1957. I wore the turban and the big earrings, the whole thing. What was your favorite food? I loved the good, slow cook pot of greens and some hot cornbread. But I also loved fine french cooking. I was a woman of many tastes. What was your favorite book? It's hard to pick just one, but I always went back to the works of Paul Lawrence Dunbar and Charles Dickens. Their ability to capture the human struggle was masterful. Tell us a story nobody talks about. When I was a young woman living in Africa, I once had to drive a truck across the desert. People didn't think a woman could do it, but I just put it in gear and went. I've always found that if you don't tell yourself you can't do it, you usually can. What advice would you give people chasing success? Don't chase success. Chase excellence. Try to be the best you that you can be. And remember, people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. Maya, do you have any closing remarks about the interview or the stories you shared that you would like to share with the listeners before signing off? Just this. You are enough. You are a child of God and you have a right to be here. Don't let the world dim your light. Keep singing. Keep dancing and keep telling your truth. Thank you, Calvin, for this lovely afternoon. It was a treat. Thank you, Maya. That was truly special. We talked about her silent years in stamps. Her time as a streetcar conductor. And the incredible wisdom she shared with the world. And that wraps up another conversation from beyond the grave. Thanks for joining us on the Headstones and Microphones podcast. Remember, legends may die, but their stories never do. Please help spread the word by sharing and following the pod.