My name is Maya Angelou and this is my life story
At the ages of three and four my brother Bailey and I were given away by our parents in California to my grandmother in Stamps, Arkansas. This left us wondering what we did wrong and why they didnt want us. Over time our grandmother seemed more like a mother than my real one so eventually she adopted the name "Momma". She works as a store owner and is the livelihood of the black community. She influenced my love for reading greatly.
Even though me and my brother are very different (him being much more graceful) he was one of my best friends.
As I grew older I began noticing the immense amount of disrespect towards the black community. I never quite understood why. Just because our skin was a different color? Whenever white girls came to our store they would be cruel towards my grandmother and she only replied with kindness. It made me enranged.
Do you need butter? You did not buy any last week.
Around christmas during the time of the great depression me and my brother received presents from our parents and we were overcome by tears because now there was proof that they hadn't perished and reminded us that we were sent away for reasons we did not know.