Word: angelou
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Poet Maya Angelou at Spelman College in Atlanta: "Congratulations to you. You are phenomenal. The reason you are phenomenal is because you come from a phenomenal people. When you get into the marketplace, whether it is the academic world or the industrial, or business, corporate or the arts, it is wise to remember where you come from. And then you can use your past as the mirror so that you can see yourself. You have come well from a very healthy, a lusty people, a people loving life and loving love. When you need to see yourself, you must...
...Harvard Foundation can better utilize their mission to tackle racism by inviting real Black role models, such as Barbara Jordan, Maya Angelou, or Steive Wonder (if they were determined to have a musical figure), to visit Harvard. However, if the Harvard Foundation wishes to continue in their ineffectual pattern, why not bring Butterfly McQueen on campus? Her potential for aiding race relations appears commensurate to Diana Ross". More over, Daffy. Diane C. Gooding...
Ultimately, as all autobiographies do, The Heart of a Woman aspires to evoke the reality of a life. Angelou tries to concentrate the vulnerability in the sexuality of Black women and how others, perceive this power. Her son makes Angelou into an earth god feeble enough for him to strike if she disappoints him. Her lovers use her to embellish their own self-images. Her Black audience focuses on her clairvoyance as an entertainer; she must penetrate the collective Black identity and sing it back, correctly. Her white audience follows her militant roles and allows her to "curse and berate...
...wait and wait through the 272 pages of the book, for Maya Angelou to bare the real emotion she feels when looking at her past and all of the roles society forced her to play, but the real person never appears. At best, Angelou describes her own superficiality, the lack of depth in her own exploration, when she writes...
...resembles Lena Horne draped across a window singing Stormy Weather and paying tribute to a special era in Black history. Lena Horne is a lovely monument, but her affected pain was sometimes unconvincing, her song a false anthem to Black achievement. Unfortunately, Maya Angelou inherited Hollywood's trick vision. Her prose gets as misty as the camera did with Bill Bojangle's memories. Not much heart shows through in this book, despite all the tears