“And still I rise”
I could read relatively well from an early age, and I was always found by my parents burying my head into a book, letting the words carry my imagination into a different realm. Sometimes I would deliberately leave the vacuum on whilst reading, just to avoid doing my chores and house duties. I must have been as young as six or seven years old, and I remember seeing a book “And still I rise” written by Maya Angelou, and I was instantly lost in her brilliant use of wise words and beautiful poetry.
What made Maya Angelou’s literature inspirational was the fact she was a woman whom I could recognise and ultimately relate to. She looked like one of my aunties pictured in one of the photo albums in the family front room. During my Primary School years, the curriculum did not cover any literature from someone I could instantly recognise or relate to, however Maya Angelou’s book “And still I rise” held a unique presence in the family home alongside my father’s record collection, the Bible, Britannia encyclopaedia’s and the dictionary’s which were used to fuel my ever emerging and inquisitive mind.
As I got older and grew into a teenager, I began to read less and less. I am not sure why? But I began to fuel my mind with image led literature, things like “Right On” Magazine and “Ebony Man”. I wanted to look like the latest Rap Icon, or adopt the image of a member of New Edition; these were the things that consumed the mind of a teenager in the nineties
In my twenties when I found my own success amongst other likeminded individuals, though I didn’t read much, I would always take the time to read about things that were of interest to me. I would read about the current artists and groups that were successful at the time, and make it my business to know about their biographies and their rise to success.
Reading is my passion, and I have
noticed during a recent trip to the local W H Smith’s with my sons and £60
later that they have the same love for reading that I had at their age.
And still I rise
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