Maya Angelou, R.I.P.

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.

Here's her obituary in the Guardian. 

Judy Lewis & Me

As a sixteen year old on my way to meet my aunt after her gym class, Judy Lewis and I shared an elevator in a building on W 57 St, NYC. I knew her from The Secret Storm, a daytime soap, but only realised who she was after she got off - missing my chance for an autograph. I was too gawky and shy anyway - wouldn't have approached her for one if I had known. I just thought she was beautiful, though, and mentioned to my aunt later that I thought I'd just seen Judy Lewis. "Yes, she's in my class sometimes," my aunt told me. I had no idea then that her mother was Loretta Young and her father was Clark Gable. I just knew her from television. I learned of her Hollywood life and her successful career outside of theatre much later; But what a sad life she had as the daughter of Hollywood icons! Judy Lewis was seventy-six years old when she died on November 25 at her home in Pennsylvania.

UPDATED: I just found this video tribute by her brothers.



Judy Lewis's publicity shot above was taken around 1977 (courtesy of the New York Times, via Photofest).