Still I Rise

By Maya Angelou

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.

Maya Angelou had a rough start in life. At the age of 8 she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend who was later killed sometime after she reported the assault.

For the next 5 years, she remained silent, only communicating with her brother, believing that her words led to the death of her abuser.

But in time, she learned that nothing could keep her down and how the power of her words could be used for good and self-expression, becoming one of the greatest wordsmiths of our time.

Born in 1928, she experienced the horrors of America’s Jim Crow segregation and the Civil Rights Movement. She lived the journey that only some will read about in books or see on a movie screen. But it was a journey that eventually led to her sharing her talents at the inauguration of the first Black President.

Her life is largely a reflection of the American experience for Black America and people of color as a collective. We have experienced the trauma of legalized dehumanization from enslavement to lynchings, dismemberments, and rapes, medical experiments, to fire hoses and fire bombings of our churches and communities, police brutality, and dog bites.

We were not given a voice in the political arena until the Civil Rights Movement in 1965, with the exception of a temporary 12-year period during Reconstruction.

When we found our voice, it came with power, purpose, and intent.

We pushed forward through the pain and through the blood, sweat, and tears. We’ve seen progress on certain fronts, but have yet to overcome the lingering roots of systemic institutionalized racism white supremacy upon which this nation was founded.

The battle rages on toward real change involving shared power and economics. And with every step forward, we are met with adversity that insists upon keeping us down and marginalized. We have proven ourselves time and time again in an environment designed for our failure.

We have fought against false narratives claiming that exposing historical truth is akin to “playing the victim card,” when in reality, our ability to overcome racially based obstacles and biases has been one of our greatest testimonies of our strength and faith in a God that never fails.  We have been victimized, but never remained victims. 

And here we stand in the early stages of a new administration in 2025, up against  political maneuverings to once again push us backwards against our formerly achieved forward motion.         

So we must not forget our voice, which some may have muted by becoming too comfortable buying into the illusion of progress at a foundational level. The fight must continue, and the unification of like-minded people must not falter at a time like this but rather strategize across any previously held dividing lines in order to truly make America great for everyone.  

We are less than 6 months in, and already we have seen massive strides setting the stage for the next 3 ½ years. We are facing principalities and authorities not only in the physical realm but also in the spiritual.   

Therefore, our strategies must cover both arenas. Christian nationalism has raised its ugly head, bringing confusion to non-believers who rightly question how “Christians” can profess a faith in Christ while casually violating His teachings. It ignores the Golden Rule to love our neighbors as ourselves and tramples over being hospitable to the foreigner.

It refuses to serve the least of these while bowing to an orange idol god who instead promotes serving an unholy trinity of the love of money, power, and the lust of the flesh.

It expects a white god with blond hair and blue eyes to salute the American flag while singing God Bless America, dressed like Uncle Sam and holding an AR-15.

So while we implement strategies for change via the political system, marches, town hall meetings, speeches, educational seminars, books, and podcasts, let us not forget our greatest collective voice. Let us not forget what lies behind what we are witnessing with our physical eyes.

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Ephesians 6:12)