Maya Angelou and the Art of the Outcast

Maya Angelou and the Art of the Outcast June 5, 2014
To fully celebrate the life and legacy of Maya Angelou (April 4, 1928–May 28, 2014), we must contextualize her 86 years of living within the black religious traditions that influenced her and birthed her deep spirituality. While countless scholars have analyzed her literary, political, and cultural contributions, few have situated her work within the scope of black religious life, particularly the African-American Christian tradition. In her literary language, political activism, and multiple artistic endeavors, Maya Angelou engaged and challenged the religious traditions into which she was born, serving as a prophetic voice for her generation and the ones that followed.
In a 1992 interview, Angelou stated that religion had always been an important force in her life:
I have always tried to find myself a church. I have studied everything. I spent some time with Zen Buddhism and Judaism and I spent some time with Islam. I am a religious person. It is in my spirit, but I found that I really want to be a Christian. That is what my spirit seems to be built on. I just know that I find the teachings of Christ so accessible. I really believe that Christ made a sacrifice and for those reasons I want to be a Christian. 
While Angelou engaged the world’s religions, she found meaning and comfort in the Christianity she learned as a child growing up in Stamps, Arkansas.
Her deep spiritual sensibility can be seen in the rhetoric which infused her poetry and other writings. In her books, including All God’s Children Need Traveling Shoes, Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Me Well, and I Shall Not Be Moved, we see the profound influence of African-American spirituals, along with biblical imagery. Angelou was often known to burst forth into a hymn or spiritual, and her strong voice would sing such powerful lines as “I think I’ll run on and see what’s the end’s gonna to be.” Angelou said:
I find in my poetry and prose the rhythms and imagery of the best—when I’m at my best—of the good Southern black preachers. The lyricism of the spirituals and the directness of gospel songs and the mystery of blues are in my music, are in my poetry and prose, or I’ve missed everything.
For Angelou, like the other members of her generation, the words of the King James Bible, the power of the Negro Spirituals, and the sermonic tradition of the African-American church were the vernacular language and soundtrack of black life.
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