Before this week I had heard of Maya Angelou only through the media. I’ve heard her name spoken in school and I thought I had seen her reading a poem on television once, but I’ve never personally read anything written by her. Having the opportunity to enrich my mind of her presence was a great intellectual experience. So far her memoir,  I know Why the Cage Bird Sings is heartbreaking and real and manages to capture the innocence of a child growing up in a segregated Arkansas town. Her memoir captures the mindset of people during that time, where not many women were strong, where blacks were not equal, and where religion was some people’s only salvation.

        

The moment that has stuck with me the most while reading is eight-year-old Maya’s sexual assault by her mother’s boyfriend. Assault on anyone is wrong, but the fact that Maya was so young and so confused as to what was happening to her is devastating. For when the act initially began she thought of it as a comfort. She was so neglected that she wanted to feel wanted by someone. And after the act occurred, she like so many other victims, blamed herself. I was saddened by the thought that she was the one who felt disgusting. I couldn’t believe that when she found out that her assailant was dead she thought it was because she lied to the courts and didn’t tell the whole extent of what the man did to her. She felt no relief, only guilt.

Although it’s hard for me to wrap my head around why someone would feel that way, I know that I am by no means in authority to tell anyone how to feel. We learned at the BAVO event last week that when someone is hurt by anyone in that way, it is never the victim’s fault. We also learned that the victim’s peers cannot force them into getting help if it is unwanted, and we cannot force them to tell of the events if they don’t want to speak. I can only hope that later in life Maya was able to talk to someone and tell them the whole truth of what she experienced, I hope she has found some sort of closure.