I love Maya Angelou’s poetry, but it is not what drew me to her. What drew me to Angelou first was her story.
When I read I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and discovered she had also written other collections of autobiographies, I was delighted by her strength and how it came out in her voice. I watched YouTube videos of her interviews and understood more about how she grew up and what led her down her path. Before Maya Angelou was one of my favorite poets, she became one of my favorite people.
The process of writing out my story on Substack has led me to question how much of what I like really belongs to me and what belongs to the world.
By the time I was born, Angelou was already 59 years old. Her name had already been carved into stone and printed inside the pages of history books. Before I was formed in my mother’s womb, Angelou had been crowned Queen.
But this isn’t really about the amazing Maya Angelou.
I am only using her as an example of how many of us drift through life as mirrors reflecting other people’s likes, passions, and preferences, not out of genuine love but habit.
Is that thing the rhythm in your soul, or is it simply the first thing whispered to you by a world that told you what to like before you liked yourself? Before you knew yourself?
Did you ever listen to that person’s music before they were your favorite artist? Did you ever trace the lyrics with your fingers or read the curve of a poet’s stanzas with your own eyes before you anointed them the best?
Did you ever actually feel the pulse of Angelou’s poetry beneath your skin? Felt her passion jump from the page to her throat and out of her mouth like the voice of many waters? Or do you carry her name like a badge, not because it speaks to you, but because it speaks to everyone else?
Have you ever wandered beyond the well-lit paths of fame into the quiet woods where lesser-known voices sing? Or, have you let the world define your taste, shaping your mind to match the music of the mainstream?
Do you like what you like because you like it or because you’ve been trained to like it?
The PBS Blog 