Letter to My Daughter

Angelou comments on entertainers whose trade is their own embarrassment. People who entertain by embarrassing themselves are telling the world that they are unlovable. Further, those who degrade themselves by watching and enjoying this embarrassment are no different than the audience in the Roman Colosseum watching and enjoying another’s death. She states:

We need to have the courage to say obesity is not funny and vulgarity is not amusing. Insolent children and submissive parents are not the characters we want to admire and emulate. Flippancy and sarcasm are not the qualities which we need to include in our daily conversations (18).

Entertainers influence public opinion greatly. Their reliance on vulgarity as comedy becomes a direct offense against the soul insofar as it corrupts it.

There are certain wrongs that correct themselves over time, Angelou writes, but there is one matter that she cannot remain silent on. She writes, “Too many sociologists and social scientists have declared that the act of rape is not a sexual act at all, but rather a need, a need to feel powerful” (19). She concedes that this need exists and that rapists themselves have often experienced abuse. However, she also cautions against this viewpoint, arguing that it provides an explanation for an inexplicable act of violence that is “(devastatingly) sexual” (19).

In premeditated rape, “The stalking becomes, in the rapist’s mind, a private courtship, where the courted is unaware of her suitor, but the suitor is obsessed with the object of his desire” (19). The suitor is the “excited protagonist in his sexual drama” (19). The impulsive rape is also sexual, as the violator is sexually agitated by the surprise encounter with an unprotected victim. Angelou concludes that society should not make rape an acceptable or even explainable occurrence. To say it is about power implies that one must forgive because it is a normal human action; it is solely violence. 

Independence, Angelou states, is desirable even though its “taste” is not very appealing. She begins to recall lunch dates with her mother, who would make Angelou’s favorite meal and spend the afternoon with her. Despite her poor living conditions, Angelou restrained herself to seeing her mother only at their appointed lunch dates.

One such lunch date stands out in her mind: “Vivian’s Red Rice Day” (20). Her mother had made red rice, Angelou’s favorite dish. Following lunch, the two left to attend their afternoon plans. As they walked, Angelou’s six-foot frame towering over her mother, Vivian told her that she was the “greatest woman” she had ever met. Angelou writes, “My policy of independence would not allow me to accept money or even a ride from my mother, but I welcomed her wisdom” (21). Angelou began to wonder if she actually could become successful. She decided to cut down on dangerous habits like smoking, drinking, and cursing. 

While Angelou was walking down the street in Morocco, a group of men shouted to her, and she was suddenly aware of her short skirt and high heels. She approached them and they invited her to dance. During this interaction, a woman handed Angelou a coffee mug that, much to Angelou’s surprise and disgust, was filled with cockroaches. Afraid of being impolite, she drank the entire concoction of coffee and cockroaches. She held her vomit until she was out of sight.

Later on, she stumbled across an article in Readers Digest about how many nomadic African tribes place three to five raisins into a small cup of coffee to show respect to visitors, much like the four “cockroaches” she had found in her coffee: “There, they had chosen to honor me with those expensive raisins” (23). She decided that, whenever she could, she would sit with others and accept all offerings. She calls this a lifelong lesson, as she is still learning it herself.