Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise” Analysis

Of Maya Angelou’s numerous poems and other literary works, “Still I Rise,” written in

1928, is probably among her most famous poems. Written from Angelou’s own point of view

and with her as the speaker, she defiantly and passionately states that all efforts to put her down

have and will continue to fail. The poem, speaking of wealth and sexiness and attitude, evokes

confident and defiant emotions throughout. And with the use beautiful bits of imagery, simile,

and metaphor, she creatively establishes such themes as criticism, sexism, and racism.

One of the major themes and plot motivators, so to speak, in this poem is criticism. The

poem as a whole can be taken as somewhat inflammatory to those who may have oppressed

Angelou, and her provoking those people is no different. In the first stanza, she sasses:

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. (1-4)

This stanza as a whole can be taken as a challenge, practically begging those people to just try to

knock her down. And the final line, a simile, gives a spectacularly relevant mental image: you’re

given the picture of dust rising. In order for dust to rise, it must first be disturbed or agitated.

Angelou, the dust, in being downtrodden by critics and their cruelty, is agitated. The dust then

rises up, up and over those who went and oppressed her, making this entire stanza a grand simile

for rising above criticism and critics and even using criticism to one’s advantage.

Within criticism as a whole, the average woman can also fall victim to sexism. Angelou,

while being no different, did not let it put her down. In her seventh stanza, she questions:

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? (28-32)

Not only does this stanza pose a simile, it poses a question to those who could colloquially be called “the

haters.” Taking on the tone of the entire poem, she’s provocative in her question, begging to be

challenged and promising to be victorious. And by talking covertly-yet-overtly of the “meeting of her

thighs,” she’s owning her womanhood and everything that it entails. I find this stanza surprisingly

relevant to what it’s like being a woman today: we, as females, are shamed simply for being females. Our

rights are revoked and our bodies are no longer our own. We deserve to own every bit and piece of our

bodies and to never be ashamed of them. We, like Angelou, should all feel fine with dancing like there are

diamonds at the meetings of our thighs. There might as well be, as being a woman is something to

celebrate, something celebrated in this poem.

But perhaps the most powerful piece of figurative language in this poem are those pertaining to

racial oppression. Being a black woman at a time in which the world didn’t seem to be meant for black

people, Angelou writes:

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. (39-44)

Angelou talks first of the nights of terror and fear, the words painting a dark image of night; she

then writes of moving beyond those nights into a bright, new day. Together, these form a metaphor, a

metaphor for rising above a dark time of oppression and moving into a dawning new age, a metaphor for

overcoming racism and putting it behind her. She brings the gift that her ancestors fought and suffered for

to give her, her freedom, with her and her people into this new age. And she is “the dream and hope of the

slave;” strong, independent, and free.

 I chose this poem solely because of a friend’s recommendation. I sat down to lunch with

my friend, Lucy, about two weeks ago and started ranting about this assignment. Like Hermione,

she pulled a packet of poems from her bag and selected this one, handing it to me and promising

that it was extremely “me.” I relate to the poem mostly for the underlying theme of sexism and

what Angelou had to write about it. I also find this poem to be extremely empowering and

inspiring, inspiring me and others to not let oppression get the best of us. I will probably end up

falling back on such words in an argument or when defending myself: the stanza on sexiness will

prove useful when my shorts are “too short,” I can almost guarantee it. I chose to recite these

lines of the poem because of the different themes portrayed more specifically in each stanza and

who they may seem relevant to. The first stanza may seem relevant to anyone in the class who

may have been bullied or kicked down otherwise. The second stanza, my favorite, may seem

relevant to my female peers who know how aggravating it is to be shamed for our bodies, may

empower them to ignore said shaming. The final stanza, I hope, will speak to my African

American classmates, reminding them of their past and that they are, in fact, was their ancestors

fought so hard for. Just like Angelou, we must all fight on and rise, rise, rise.

Still I Rise
Maya Angelou, 1928

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.