Letter to My Daughter - Maya Angelou [16]
There was a rumor which was untrue that drugs had made me blank out. Upon later reflection of the painful incident, I am remembering what Arkansas gave me. I came to understand that I can never forget where I came from. My soul should always look back and wonder at the mountains I had climbed and the rivers I had forged and the challenges which still await down the road. I am strengthened by that knowledge.
In Self-Defense
Recently I had an appointment with four television producers who wanted my permission to produce a short story I had written.
As often happens, the leader of the group showed herself immediately. There was no question as to who was the boss. The woman was small, with a quick smile and a high-pitched voice. She met each statement I made with a sarcastic rejoinder. Not caustic enough for me to call her down but pointed enough for me to realize she meant to put me in my place, which was obviously somewhere beneath her.
I said, “I’m glad we are meeting in this restaurant, it is one of my favorites.”
She said, “I have not been here for years but I remember the last time the atmosphere was so boring we could have been in an old lady’s home.”
She looked around, smirked, and said, “It does not seem as if it has gotten any better.”
After she had responded sarcastically to my statements three times, I asked, “Why are you doing that?”
She answered in a sweet innocent voice, “What, what am I doing?”
I said, “You are timidly attacking me.”
She laughed and said, “Oh no, I was just showing you that you cannot be right about everything all the time. Anyway I like to have a little word warfare going on. It sharpens the wit, and I am brutally frank.”
I kept my hands in my lap and brought my chin to my chest. I ordered myself to be kind.
I asked the producer, “Word warfare? Do you really want to call me out into the arena for word warfare?”
And she said boldly, “Yes, I do, yes, I do, yes, I do.”
“No, I do not, but let us speak about the business which brought us together. Your corporation wanted my permission to explore my short story as a vehicle for television. I must tell you ‘No,’ I will not agree.”
She said, “We have not even made our offer to you.”
I told her, “That does not matter. I know very well that you would not furnish me a peaceful or pleasant environment in which to work. That is not how you work, so I am obliged to refuse any offer you might make.”
I thought I could have added, “I promise you, you do not want me as your adversary because, once I feel myself under threat, I fight to win, and in that case I will forget that I am thirty years older than you, with a reputation for being passionate. Then after the fray, if I see I have vanquished you I would be embarrassed that I have brought all the pain, brought all the joy, brought all the fear, and the glory that I have lived through, to triumph over a single woman who did not know that she should be careful of who she calls out and I would not like myself very much. And if you bested me I would be devastated and might start to throw things.”
I am never proud to participate in violence, yet, I know that each of us must care enough for ourselves, that we can be ready and able to come to our own defense when and wherever needed.
Mrs. Coretta Scott King
Over the last few years, and even in the last few months, I have said reluctant goodbyes to friends I have known over forty years. Friends I miss, with whom I learned many of life’s sweetest and most painful lessons.
I still miss James Baldwin and Alex Haley and the loud talking, shouting, laughing, crying weekends that we shared. Betty Shabazz is near enough