The Erasure of Maya Angelou’s Sex Work History

[Art Mann]

Maya Angelou died this past week.

Perhaps the best poet in decades to bless our lives with simple insight born of uncanny wisdom.

Poet Laureate, Pulitzer nominee, Tony Award winner, best selling author, poetess, winner of more than 50 honorary degrees, mother, sister, daughter, wife, National Medal of Arts winner, Presidential Medal of Freedom winner, consummate and powerful woman, artist . . . and former sex worker.


The Erasure of Maya Angelou’s Sex Work History
by PEECHINGTON MARIE on MAY 29, 2014

Dr. Maya Angelou, American Poet Laureate, most famous for authoring I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, passed away at age 86 on May 28th, 2014. Her literary agent Helen Brann confirmed the news to press, and thus began a worldwide outpouring of grief. The top trending tag on Twitter was “RIP Maya Angelou” and, at the time of this writing, it is one of four Maya Angelou-related trending hashtags. She is hailed as a national best selling author, a genius, a spiritual God-, Grand-, and mother. She is lauded as everything Black women should aspire to emulate in life. So why is it very few of us know she was a sex worker in her youth? Why is it, even in her death, as in her life, it’s such a guarded secret? Why was this secret kept by seemingly everyone except Dr. Angelou herself?

We can, once again, boil it down to respectability, politics and stigma. I am angry about it. I find myself ruminating, considering, wondering: If her work had been talked about as much as her dancing with James Baldwin or even her considerable, commanding and lovely height of six feet, what would the sex work community look like today? If we had talked about her wonderful compassion for sex workers, how she never looked down on them, and her refusal to be intimidated by invasive and obnoxious questioning about her sex working past, what would sex workers around the world be saying today in memory of her life?


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[User-E]

So why is it very few of us know she was a sex worker in her youth? Why is it, even in her death, as in her life, it’s such a guarded secret? Why was this secret kept by seemingly everyone except Dr. Angelou herself?

We can, once again, boil it down to respectability, politics and stigma. I am angry about it. I find myself ruminating, considering, wondering: If her work had been talked about as much as her dancing with James Baldwin or even her considerable, commanding and lovely height of six feet, what would the sex work community look like today? If we had talked about her wonderful compassion for sex workers, how she never looked down on them, and her refusal to be intimidated by invasive and obnoxious questioning about her sex working past, what would sex workers around the world be saying today in memory of her life?

Great ARTicle.

I caught that when reading about her yesterday.

Just goes to show that a woman isn't 'ruined' and her potential for greatness is not lost because she's been a sex worker. :good:

 

[Alfonso]

R.I.P. Madam.

 

[oldguyzer]

Just goes to show that a woman isn't 'ruined' and her potential for greatness is not lost because she's been a sex worker. :good:

In many ways it makes her wiser, more understanding, and more picky...all good things. :YMAPPLAUSE:

 

[Des]

All SP should be proud of what she did for the trade.

 

[Waxed]

Never heard about her. A poet and a sex worker?.

Hmmmmmm

 

[j]

Never heard about her. A poet and a sex worker?.

Hmmmmmm

Known for her poem: Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
the swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
what they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
the need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

 

[Art Mann]

Toronto's Amy Sky put Phenomenal Woman to song. She says she carried the poem around in her purse for months, while trying to contact Angelou for permission to put it to music. Then their paths crossed by chance. She was able to pop the request in person and was given permission on the spot.

You can easily find Amy Sky's original version on YouTube, but I'll post a cover here that I prefer:
Ruthie Foster, live at Antone's in Austin, Texas.

 

[Wanker]

Amen.

 

[Creepy]

Toronto's Amy Sky put Phenomenal Woman to song. She says she carried the poem around in her purse for months, while trying to contact Angelou for permission to put it to music. Then their paths crossed by chance. She was able to pop the request in person and was given permission on the spot.

You can easily find Amy Sky's original version on YouTube, but I'll post a cover here that I prefer:
Ruthie Foster, live at Antone's in Austin, Texas.

Impressive to say the least.