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Professor Randall's Note: My daily life, like every black woman, is one of insults, small almost insignificant - larger mean spirited ones. So I endure white colleagues who say in bewilderment, " I wouldn't stay anywhere I wasn't wanted."   Of course, as privileged white men, they can assume that moving to somewhere else will cure their problem.  I endure student evaluations that say - "Take her out and kill her . . and put her out her misery." OR that say that  I am " a racist man-hater" which I interpret to be the politically correct way of saying - Nigger-Bitch.

Still I Rise!!




Still, I Rise
Maya Angelou

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