By a Survivor Who Now Understands Why the Caged Bird Sings I’ve always been a voracious reader. Since as far back as I can remember, my mother
By a Survivor Who Now Understands Why the Caged Bird Sings
I’ve always been a voracious reader.
Since as far back as I can remember, my mother required that all three of her children read at least two books every day. Not just once in a while—every day.
I don’t recall being read to as a child.
But I do remember standing at my mother’s side, asking how to pronounce long, complicated words with too many syllables for a young tongue.
Over the years, I’ve met many children of color with similar stories—kids who weren’t necessarily cuddled with bedtime stories, but who were expected to read, learn, and rise anyway.
But there was one story—a story nearly everyone in my generation seemed to have read—that I intentionally avoided:
“I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” by Dr. Maya Angelou.
I avoided it because I knew she was a Survivor.
I had heard that she told the truth—plain, unfiltered, soul-baring truth—about childhood sexual abuse. That she wrote it so powerfully it could break you open.
That she left it all on the page. No sugarcoating. No detours. No pretending.
If I understood correctly, this wasn’t going to be just a “good book.”
It was going to feel like a classic R&B song—the kind that reaches inside your chest and pulls something sacred and tender to the surface.
And I wasn’t ready for that.
Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.
In fact, if I saw her name on a college syllabus for a class I worked hard to get into?
I dropped it without a second thought.
That’s how I ended up discovering Flannery O’Connor.
Turns out I love her too.
But make no mistake—I was running.
Come Out of There
Eventually, I had to stop hiding. Because my excellent therapist pushed me.
And, because at some point, we all come face-to-face with the very thing we think will unravel us.
For me, that meant reading the book I had dodged for years.
Why?
Honestly, I asked that same question.
Why can’t I just skip the hard stuff?
Why must I revisit the things that hurt?
The answer? Because facing those fears builds confidence.
Not the loud, boastful kind—but the deep, quiet kind that anchors you through storms.
Now, don’t get me wrong. This isn’t the kind of growth you get in bubblegum flavor or gummy form. There’s no soothing soundtrack or guaranteed “closure.”
You just have to do it.
So, I did.
First, I listened to the audio version—narrated by Dr. Angelou herself.
Her voice felt like protection. Like truth telling wrapped in grace.
Then I read the book with my own eyes.
And I wept.
There was grief.
There was anger.
There was deep, deep sadness.
And there were memories from my own childhood—memories I had carefully locked away.
The Difference This Time?
I didn’t push the memories away.
Instead of running, I stayed.
I started asking questions—not just of the book, but of myself.
Because when Dr. Angelou says, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,”
she’s not just making a poetic statement.
She’s raising her hand in the classroom of pain and saying,
“I know. I know.
Call on me. I have the answer.”
And suddenly, I understood.
The Wisdom in the Wounds
I stopped getting frustrated with therapists or counselors who asked me about my memories.
I realized those memories hold clues—answers I didn’t know I needed.
Eventually, I got brave enough to ask the memories questions of my own.
Not to stay stuck in the past. But to get free.
I know some people say, “The past is over. Just forget it.”
But I’m not one of them.
And I’m beyond grateful that Dr. Maya Angelou wasn’t either.
Because if she had silenced her truth to make others comfortable, we would’ve been robbed.
We never would have received the masterpiece that is I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings—
or the many other works where she poured her journey into the page like a libation.
Here’s What I Know Now
I have lived through devastation.
Through cruelty.
Through destruction that visited me daily.
And after all that—
If I have to live with this pain,
if I have to carry the scars…
Then best believe, I will also collect every drop of wisdom. joy, and love.
Every lesson. Every blessing.
Every key to healing.
Because I didn’t survive just to suffer.
I survived to understand.
And because of Survivors like Maya Angelou—
I now know why we sing.
