Real-life resilience - Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou was a poet, author, and civil rights activist whose words gave voice to the voiceless. Over her 86 years, she became one of America’s most influential storytellers. She pushed boundaries, challenged the status quo, and found a way to turn pain into poetry.

When Maya was just seven years old, her childhood was shattered. She was raped by her mother’s boyfriend and soon had to testify against him. Days later, he was found dead, likely killed by relatives. Maya believed that her words had caused his death, so she stopped speaking. Not another word, for five years.

She said later that her voice had been “taken,” stolen by a weight of guilt and fear. In her young mind, her words had killed a man, so she viewed silence as a form of penance. But what is energizing about that silence is that it became a mechanism for her growth. Inside that quiet, she found power within words, memorizing Shakespeare, Dickens, and Black poets who turned pain into rhythm. Years later, she would call that time her apprenticeship to poetry.

It’s difficult to imagine, but I actually see it as a powerful example of letting go. By choosing to give up her speech, she unknowingly made space and energy for something new in her reading.

And when a teacher finally coaxed her to read aloud again 5 years later, it was the rebirth of Maya Angelou as somebody new. She would go on to become an artist, a writer, and a woman who would one day show the world how to rise.

Courage to sing.

In 1969, at age 41, Maya tested that voice. She wrote her first autobiography, entitled I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. It was a raw, poetic, and radically honest memoir about growing up Black and female in the Deep South. She didn’t hide the rape and she didn’t soften the racism.

By refusing to edit out the pain, the brutal openness made the book revolutionary.

It soared on bestseller lists and earned national acclaim, yet it also became one of the most banned books in the US. Critics said it was too explicit, too angry, too unsettling. Parents protested and several schools pulled it from shelves.

Maya, for her part, refused to apologize. She believed that there was no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of us, and that speaking truth was an ultimate act of resilience.

For her, writing was not rebellion for its own sake. Instead, it was an act of recovery. To set herself free.

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” - Maya Angelou.

Maya’s story is close to my heart because this quote above was one of the first I discovered when beginning my resilience journey. Her channeling of severe pain into constructive art continues to be one of the most profound examples of resilience I can think of, and I always admire people who can find a way to use their pain for creative energy and a way forward.

Maya’s story reminds me of a few things:

1. People may (and will often) hurt us, but we must be the ones to rise. The alternative is a life of continued pain and suffering.

2. There is agency within adversity. When we accept that so much that happens to us is out of our control, we have more space to breathe and choose. At any moment we can decide whether or not we will be reduced by what happens to us.

3. Sometimes the truth hurts and people will resist it. We might not be ready for it, but perhaps that’s why it’s needed the most. It’s a reminder that resilience is never a smooth path, but more like a tangled journey with bumps, potholes, and deviations around every corner.

Applying these ideas each day.

Here are a few ways we can live what Maya modeled:

1. Transform pain into purpose. Use the difficulty. As horrific as it is, there is always an opportunity to gain something from it. Maya is an example of this by turning her trauma into art. I admit that it’s damn hard, but the alternative is suffering. Our hardest experiences can become our greatest sources of empathy and insight, so long as we’re willing to reflect and reframe. If a prospect ghosts us after 3 months of promises, we can look for lessons to make sure it doesn’t happen again, or perhaps even see it as an opportunity to practice empathy. After all, we have no idea what people have got going on.

2. Defend our voice. Maya didn’t retreat when her work was challenged. Instead, she doubled down. When our boundaries, beliefs, or values might be tested, resilience is about standing firm in a calm but unmistakable way. If a colleague pressures us to cut corners to meet a deadline, resilience might look like holding firm on our standards while still looking for a constructive path forward. We can acknowledge the urgency while making it clear that integrity and quality aren’t up for negotiation.

3. Use silence wisely. For five years, Maya held firm with her silence, but it wasn’t wasted silence. It was a deliberate pause. She used that time to reset, reimagine, reinvent. It was the same with Simone Biles when she chose to step back and reset. It does not mean weakness, but is a way to regroup rather than react. Sometimes, instead of bouncing back, we just need to bounce out for a while.

4. Speak the truth. We should be thoughtful in delivery, but never dilute what matters. Whether it’s admitting fatigue, naming burnout, or confronting a hard truth, honesty always clears space for growth. Instead of confrontation, when we speak the truth with care, it creates connection.

Maya Angelou’s life is proof that resilience is rarely found in perfection or power. It’s almost always found in the struggles (and sometimes horrors) that the world flings at us. We’d never wish those burdens on anyone, but when they arrive, it will be our resilience that helps us find the way forward.

Until next time friends, stay resilient.

Carré @ Resilient Minds
Handle Hard Better.

PS - If you’re in Vancouver on October 28th, I’m hosting a free workshop from 5-7pm. There are less than a handful of spots remaining, so please reply here if you’d like to attend and I can send details.