Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.  
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.  
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,  
The bend of my hair,  
the palm of my hand,  
The need for my care.  
’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

They say something like 95% of all people fear public speaking. I certainly do. Unless I'm talking about something I'm passionate about, I don't even like speaking to a room of 5. Back when I was at the Sci-Fi Channel, there was a convention in Las Vegas of Star Trek licensors and my boss was invited to speak because the Sci-Fi Channel had just acquired rights to the new series and it would be good to show licensors this was a high priority for the network.

My boss tasked me with creating the presentation. I wrote and revised, wrote and revised until I knew it like the back of my hand. As I handed my boss the final draft he had approved, he said "You know this stuff as well as I do. I think it would be a good idea for you to go and give the presentation." I don't remember what happened next. It's quite possible all light sound was sucked out of the room, the earth shook and frogs fell from the skies because if I had to speak in public to hundreds of people, it was the End of Days.

I don't remember going back to my office, going home that evening. As I packed for the trip, I searched my bookshelves for something to read on the plane and I came across a thin black book of two poems by Maya Angelou, "Still I Rise" and "Phenominal Woman". I had read both but somehow I knew I needed to pack that book. On the plane I read both poems again and again, fighting back tears at the same point:

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gaveI am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.

I thought about my Grandaddy, who beamed at his only grandchild's every success, and how proud he would be knowing I had been chosen to make a speech on behalf of my company (a television network at that!) I thought of how he was only 2 generations away from the slaves Maya Angelou wrote about in those powerful two lines. And I wept. I didn't bother to wipe away the tears as I assured the concerned flight attendant that it was nothing really, I was just remembering something.

The day of the speech, I carried that book to the podium with me. I don't remember much about the speech itself other than people laughing at the right spots and a swell of applause at the end. Stepping off the stage I felt relief like I'd never known before, not just because the terrifying ordeal was over but because I felt lifted, by Grandaddy and all the others who worked so hard so I could be in that place, in that position.

I still don't like public speaking but when I'm called to do it, I know I can call on my ancestors to help me rise to the occasion, and beyond.

RIP Maya Angelou, for these and so many other powerful words.