Maya Angelou Books

Bailey and I arrived in Stamps like a pair of misplaced parcels, sent by parents who were themselves struggling to find footing. In that tiny, segregated Arkansas town, everything from where you could walk to how you were addressed was determined by the color of your skin. Yet within the confines of...

From I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

In St. Louis, where we went to live with my mother, I encountered a world less bound by rural order but more dangerous in its intimacy. Vivian Baxter was beautiful, quick-witted, alive in ways Momma had never been. She moved through life with confidence, but that confidence could not shield me from ...

From I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

Home, for me, is more than a roof over one’s head. It is a space of acceptance, a small island of belonging in a world that often makes us feel like wanderers. My own idea of home has shifted, broken, and re-formed countless times — from St. Louis to Stamps, Arkansas, to San Francisco, and across oc...

From Letter To My Daughter

Philanthropy, as I have come to understand it, is not reserved for the wealthy or famous. It is the art of extending oneself — of recognizing our shared humanity. When I speak of generosity, I do not mean the occasional grand gesture; I mean the daily practice of kindness, of giving time, love, or a...

From Letter To My Daughter