Letter to My Daughter

“I gave birth to one child, a son, but I have thousands of Daughters. You are Black and White, Jewish and Muslim, Asian, Spanish-speaking, Native American and Aleut. You are fat and thin and pretty and plain, gay and straight, educated and unlettered, and I am speaking to you all. Here is my offering to you.” 

Angelou’s definition of a daughter establishes the work’s eclectic nature. A daughter does not have one singular identity, but instead encompasses a range of differences. In dedicating her work to her daughter, Angelou is dedicating it to everyone. 

“I may never be known as a philanthropist, but I certainly am a lover of mankind, and I will give freely of my resources.”

Angelou differentiates between philanthropy and charity. While philanthropists claim to love mankind, they often operate within large and to some extent anonymous groups. Angelou, on the other hand, understands the power of individual gestures and kind words. She strives to correct injustices as she encounters them. As such, she identifies as charitable.

“I had never been called beautiful and no one in my memory had ever called me daughter.”

Angelou’s mother instilled within her a strong sense of self. Having never been called daughter before, Angelou finally felt a sense of belonging and was finally able to add “daughter” to her list of traits. Her identity felt more complete and whole afterwards, which is perhaps one reason why she offers the role of “daughter” to her readers. 

“She was so proud of her grandson and proud of me. I never had to spend one minute regretting giving birth to a child who had a devoted family led by a fearless, doting, and glorious grandmother. So, I became proud of myself.”

Angelou’s identity expands from being a daughter to being a mother herself. It is one of the first moments when she felt proud and accomplished, and it is notable that her relationship to her grandmother facilitated those feelings; motherhood fosters motherhood across generations.

“I wish we could stop the little lies. I don’t mean that one has to be brutally frank. I don’t believe that we should be brutal about anything, however, it is wonderfully liberating to be honest. One does not have to tell all that one knows, but we should be careful what we do say is the truth.”

One of Angelou’s lessons concerns social lies and honesty. To be honest, she argues, is to liberate oneself from the constraints of social norms. It allows one to actually address their issues instead of avoiding them and, worse yet, complaining about them.

“If the emperor is standing in my living room stripped to the buff, nothing should prevent me from saying that since he has no clothes on, he is not ready for public congress. At any rate, not lounging on my sofa and munching on my trail mix.”

Vulgarity as comedy, Angelou argues, reveals a hidden sense that one is unlovable. To laugh at vulgarity is to take pleasure in one’s own degradation. The above quote comically articulates Angelou’s viewpoint.

“I am concerned that accepting the power theory trivializes and diminishes the raw ugliness of the act, and dulls the razor’s cruel edge of violation.”

Angelou cautions that we should never explain away acts of violence—specifically rape—because to explain is to offer a form of acceptance.

“At that moment, when I could still taste the red rice, I decided the time had come when I should cut down on dangerous habits like smoking, drinking, and cursing. Imagine, I might really become somebody. Someday.” 

Angelou’s mother influenced her to take an active role in her life. While independence might be difficult, Angelou realized that it was necessary to grow and become successful. Here, the food her mother prepared for her symbolizes this broader emotional and spiritual sustenance, which gave Angelou the confidence to venture out on her own.

“My grandmother would have pushed away the grave’s dirt and traveled by willpower to show me her face of abject disappointment. I could not bear that. I opened my throat and drank the cup dry. I counted four cockroaches.”

Angelou’s grandmother influenced her idea of charity and kindness. In this quote, Angelou accepts the culture of another without fully understanding its meaning. She tells the reader that one must always keep an open mind and practice acceptance, which even she concedes is a lifelong endeavor.

“Then write down that you can see this yellow pad, and think of the millions of people around the world who cannot see a waterfall, or flowers blooming, or their lover’s face. Write I can see—Thank God.”

Gratitude, as the understanding that life itself is a blessing from God, inspired Angelou to view her life through a new lens. After these words from Wilkie, she understood that blessings were everywhere. This anticipates Angelou’s understanding of Christianity as a journey that is always in progress; life constantly furnishes the believer with new opportunities to believe and be thankful.

“The love of democracy motivated Harriet Tubman to seek and find not only her own freedom, but to make innumerable trips to the slave South to gain the liberty of many slaves and instill the idea into the hearts of thousands that freedom is possible.”

The idea that Americans have lost true democracy and should strive to regain it is a central issue for Angelou. Since the time of slavery, Americans have been fighting for freedom. Democracy is only the potential for freedom; it is the people who must make the potential a reality.

“In an unfamiliar culture, it is wise to offer no innovations, no suggestions, or lessons. The epitome of sophistication is utter simplicity.” 

Angelou incorrectly assumed that Samia had forbidden her guests from stepping on her expensive rug and branded her as elitist. To test the theory, Angelou stepped on the carpet herself, only to learn that the guests would be eating dinner on the rug. Angelou offers this anecdote as an example of the importance of accepting others’ cultures.

“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.”

Angelou differentiates between violence and self-defense, characterizing self-defense as an act of self-care. As such, it becomes a necessary way to accept oneself and protect oneself from potential harm. 

“When I find myself filling with rage over the loss of a beloved, I try as soon as possible to remember that my concerns and questions should be focused on what I learned or what I have yet to learn from my departed love. What legacy was left which can help me in the art of living a good life?”

Death is a difficult concept for Angelou to grasp, as she struggles to understand how someone can cease to exist. She finds refuge in the fact that she doesn’t need to have all of the answers, but also in the legacy of those she loved. In this remembrance, she sustains their existence.

“You awoke to sunrays and nestled down to sleep in moonlight. All life was a gift to you and burgeoning for you. Choirs sang to harps and your feet moved to ancestral drumbeats. For you were sustaining and being sustained by the arms of your beloved.”

Here Angelou describes the reciprocal relationship between lost loved ones and the living. The beloved occupies the cosmos and as such touches the living through all of nature. Meanwhile, the living keep the beloved alive through their actions and memories.

“How have we come so late and lonely to this place? When did we relinquish our desire for a high moral ground to those who clutter our national landscape with vulgar accusations and gross speculations?”

Angelou believes that all should fight for democracy. She questions the American leaders who have led their people astray. She speaks with a sense of urgency, writing that if these leaders want to continue down the path of hatred and violence, they will proceed alone.

“Southern themes will range from generous and luscious love to cruel and bitter hate, but no one can ever claim that the South is petty or indifferent. Even in little Stamps, Arkansas, black people walk with an air which implies ‘when I walk in, they may like me or dislike me, but everybody knows I’m here.’”

Angelou unravels the failed promise of a better life in the North in this section. The North was not free of racism, and its racism was, to Angelou, more demeaning. In the South, racism’s blatancy at least confirmed the existence of the Black individual, whereas the passive-aggressive behavior in the North negated it.

“Each time my search for true love

leads me to the gates of hell

where Satan waits with open arms

I imagine the laughter of women friends”

Angelou believes that one’s relationship with the larger community is very important. Whenever she needs courage, she looks to her peers—particularly her fellow women, or “mothers”—for refuge, advice, and comfort. The individual derives strength from their community. 

“And what did I think? I said, ‘I commend lovers, I am en-heartened by lovers, I am encouraged by their courage and inspired by their passion.’”

Lovers are inspirational because it takes an immense amount of courage to be one. For Angelou, to love is an act of strength.

“Black poets revel in their color, plunging pink palmed, black hands deep into blackness and ceremonially painting themselves with the substance of their ancestry.”

Understanding what it means to be Black (and further, to be Black in America) is a central theme in most African American authors' works. The Black identity has thus become plural, encapsulating an infinite number of experiences, including being American.

“There was a possibility that if God loved me, then I could do wonderful things, I could try great things, learn anything, achieve anything. For what could stand against me, since one person, with God, constitutes the majority.”

Angelou argues that God’s love enables her to do an infinite number of great things, addressing the theme of religion and one’s larger connection to the universe. The passage anticipates Angelou’s discussion of “stepping out on the word of God”—that is, taking a risk and trusting God to make impossible things possible.

“The knowledge humbles me today, melts my bones, closes my ears, and makes my teeth rock loosely in my gums. And it liberates me. I am a big bird winging over high mountains, down into serene valleys. I am ripples of waves on silver seas. I’m a spring leaf trembling in anticipation of full growth.”

Angelou describes the impact of the phrase “God loves me.” This recognition prompts her to see connections between herself and nature, blurring the lines between where her body ends and the external world begins. The potential for growth exists all around her, echoing her description of faith as a journey.

“You said to lean on your arm

And I am leaning

You said to trust in your love

And I am trusting

You said to call on your name

And I am calling

I’m stepping out on your word.”

The above quote comes from the gospel hymn Angelou wrote for her grandmother. Like her previous discussion of the beloved, the hymn describes a give-and-take relationship with the departed. Angelou finds strength in the legacy her grandmother left behind, even changing her grandmother’s famous phrase “Stepping out on the word of God” to “stepping out on your [her grandmother’s] word,” showing how the two are forever connected.