You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

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.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

Smooth in its language yet invincible in its themes, Dr Maya Angelou’s poem Still I Rise was one source of inspiration for me in writing my novel, Two Minutes. A lyrical yet powerful poem, Still I Rise, celebrates resilience, dignity, and joy in the face of oppression. Still I Rise is a poem that shuns suppression, and it refuses to whisper, like a submissive paramour. Instead, it is a bold declaration of the fortitude born out of African American history, and blooms from the fertile soil of her strenuous efforts in gaining wisdom. First published in her 1978 collection And Still I Rise, Dr Angelou celebrates the integrity of defiance, transforming that inner fortitude into an anthem of triumph. Driving rhythms; unforgettable refrain; a testament to the indomitable power of humanity’s spirit to rise, again and again, never to be defeated. Yet before I delve deeper into the poem, it is appropriate at this juncture to discuss Dr Angelou’s life.

Maya Angelou was born Marguerite Annie Johnson on 4 April 1928 and left this world on 28 May 2014. Dr Angelou was an American memoirist, essayist, poet, and civil rights activist. Dr Angelou was active in the Civil Rights Movement and worked with Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. She published seven autobiographies, three books of essays, several books of poetry, and is credited with a list of plays, movies, and television shows spanning over 50 years. She received dozens of awards and more than 50 honorary degrees. Dr Angelou’s series of seven autobiographies focuses on her childhood and early adult experiences. The first, written in 1969, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, tells of her life up to the age of 17 and brought her international recognition and acclaim.  In 1982, Dr Angelou was named the first Reynolds Professor of American Studies at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. She was a prolific writer of poetry; her volume, Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water ‘fore I Diiie, was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize, and President Bill Clinton chose her to recite her poem On the Pulse of Morning during his inauguration in 19 In the link below, Dr Angelou discusses her memoir, The Heart of a Woman, which I implore you to take the time to listen to her words of wisdom:

And now, I shall return to her delightful poem, Still I Rise. The poem’s structure underscores its themes. Still I Rise consists of nine stanzas with varying structures: the first seven follow a loose quatrain pattern with an ABCB rhyme scheme, while the final two stanzas blossom into longer, more expansive forms. This structural shift mirrors the poem’s emotional progression from measured defiance to unbridled celebration. The refrain ‘I rise’ appears throughout, building in intensity from a quiet assertion to a thunderous declaration by the poem’s conclusion. Dr Angelou explores racial oppression and personal empowerment as she speaks to the collective history of African Americans, in which she references slavery, discrimination, and dehumanisation, while simultaneously refusing to be defined by that suffering. Pain transforms into power, using her body, her joy, and her very existence as acts of resistance. She metaphorically deploys symbolism of herself as dust rising, to moons and suns that follow cycles, and to the tides of the ocean, implying that her rising is a force of nature as natural and unstoppable as these forces. Similarly, sexuality and the body emerge as sources of power rather than shame. The poem’s title and refrain echo the tradition of resistance literature in African American culture, from slave narratives to the speeches of the Civil Rights Movement. The phrase ‘I rise’ symbolises centuries of struggle while simultaneously looking forward with unshakable optimism.

Dr Angelou left an indelible imprint on the history of literature, an eternal reminder of how hope can overcome hate, inspiration can defeat oppression, and love binds us all together as one. We all can rise, no matter how life’s vicissitudes might seem to repress us, and never stop believing that before the world indoctrinated your mind, everyone was with hearts of gold, and when we return our borrowed atoms to the cosmos, that same gold is left behind untarnished, as we, too, leave our indelible impression on life in prioritising all that is virtuous for the greater good.