still I rise

This is Lindsay‘s tattoo.

When I was in sixth grade, I discovered Maya Angelou, and it would prove to be the greatest discovery of my life. I read her poetry, her autobiographical series, and just about anything I could get my hands on. Maya Angelou introduced me to a world of literature that I immersed myself in. I made new friends, and went on new adventures, but this time, they existed in the pages of a book. Ms. Angelou means a lot to me, and her writing is part of the reason I study English today at my university. Words have the power to change lives, if you let them.

Literary Tattoos: Still I Rise Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

- Excerpt from “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou.  Read the whole poem here.


  1. Nic says

    A lovely tattoo. Do you know what the font is called? It really suits the quote (which I’m considering having tattooed myself).

  2. says

    This Poem is very much interpersonal to the African diaspora and there is no way you could or will every really understand it, it does not pertain to you.

    • Lindsay says

      This is my tattoo. I interpreted the poem how I see fit. To me, it signifies my ability to rise not only as a woman, but as a person. A poem isn’t confined to skin color, and you are wrong to think that. To say I do not understand it is ignorant. You have no idea what I do or do not understand.

    • Nia says

      It doesn’t matter about color or nationality– to each his own; the poem managed to break race barriers because it can be meaningful to any person who has struggles. As a black person I see no problem with her having this tattoo quote since it means a lot to her.

  3. Sarah says

    I love this poem and this tattoo. The truly ignorant comment of poems being confined to the color of the skin of the author is abhorrent. Poems, like all art, transcend race, class, gender, stereotypes. They reach across these great man made divides and speak to each heart individually. The written word does not see with the clouded eyes of bigotry. Isn’t that what we love about them? Isn’t that why we are here?


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