My journey from New Orleans to Maya Angelou’s living room—and beyond.
Growing Up in the Heart of New Orleans
To understand my love for Dr. Maya Angelou, we have to go back to when I was 12 years old and look at the environment in which I grew up. For those who don’t know, I was raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, primarily by my father, Aunt Kerry, and my Nana (my dad’s mother). It was a colorful upbringing.
We lived at 1208 Camp Street in a two-bedroom shotgun apartment with our three dogs—Romeo, Reno, and Lucky—and our three cats—Zydeco, Tabasco, and Cappuccino. My father, who is biracial, lived with his white mother and two white sisters, Aunt Kerry and Aunt Kimmie. Our home in the 3rd Ward was full of love, chaos, and rich culture.
Our apartment sat just off the Mardi Gras parade route, so every year, people flocked to our street to enjoy the festivities on St. Charles Avenue. Weekends were magical—streetcar rides to Riverbend for Baskin-Robbins chocolate chip ice cream, beignets in the French Quarter, and the rhythm of brass bands filling the air.
Yet beneath the celebration, there was pain. My dad struggled with drug addiction. So did Aunt Kerry, who was addicted to heroin. I’d often find crack cocaine hidden in drawers or overhear hushed plans to “score some dope.” One night, my dad came home with his face beaten and swollen after a run-in with local dealers. It was devastating.
Despite the chaos, my dad tried to stay clean. He took me to Narcotics Anonymous meetings where I sat in the corner with my dolls, quietly listening to stories of recovery. These were my earliest lessons in resilience.
From Picayune to the Crescent City
Before New Orleans, I lived in Picayune, Mississippi, with my grandmother Sarah and my older brother. Our mom was in Texas trying to finish college. With 12 children and countless grandkids running through her home, it was always loud and full. But when she became ill and had to have a leg amputated, my dad and Nana arrived unannounced in a red Nissan. They packed up my things and brought me to New Orleans.
No one asked how I felt. My brother stood behind the screen door, watching us drive away. That memory is seared into my heart. I knew it broke his.
Searching for Safety, Finding Solace in Storytelling
Adjusting to New Orleans was tough. I felt shell-shocked. Sure, there were moments of childhood joy—karaoke, Barbies, and dancing in my socks—but fear and uncertainty loomed. There were arguments over money, moments of theft (like the birthday card from my mom with $25 stolen by Aunt Kerry), and a deep longing for safety.
Then there was Aunt Kathy. Fabulous Aunt Kathy, who lived in Tampa, Florida, with red nails, high heels, and a powerful aura. Her best friend, Peanut, was a multi-millionaire in a penthouse along the Mississippi River. Whenever Aunt Kathy visited, it felt like royalty had come to town.
I once begged her to take me home with her. She looked at me and said, “You live in one of the greatest cities in the world. I know it’s hard right now, but trust me—someone out there wishes they were in your shoes.” I was crushed.
But she gave me something that would change everything: a copy of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou.
Discovering Maya Angelou: The Power of Story
Reading that book was like breathing for the first time. Maya’s stories of abandonment, survival, and rising above spoke directly to me. Her words made me feel seen and understood. That summer, I read more of her work and fell in love with her spirit. She became my first role model—a woman who turned pain into poetry, trauma into transformation.
College, Lip Syncs, and the Call to Meet Her
In 2004, I began my freshman year at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts (UNCSA), majoring in drama. In one class, we were asked to lip-sync a song. I chose Yolanda Adams’ The Battle Is Not Yours. That song had seen me through a lot.
After my performance, my teacher Ashley Gates asked about my choice. I mentioned I had also considered Yolanda Adams’ Still I Rise, inspired by Dr. Angelou’s poem. Ashley paused and said, “Did you know Maya Angelou lives in Winston-Salem? You should try to meet her.”
That sparked something in me. I wrote to Dr. Angelou. Emailed her office at Wake Forest University, where she taught. Nothing came back. But I kept writing.
The Day Everything Changed: Meeting Dr. Angelou
In my junior year, I was cast in August Wilson’s Gem of the Ocean, directed by the incredible Michele Shay. After one of our sold-out performances, Chancellor John Mauceri pulled me aside and told me I was invited to a gathering at Dr. Angelou’s house. Only two of us could go. I was one of them.
When I walked in, the room buzzed with notable figures like Susan Taylor and Michael Eric Dyson’s wife. But when the chancellor told me, “Dr. Angelou is sitting alone in the front room,” my heart stopped. I walked over, introduced myself, and she said, “Sit down, Miss Payton.”
We spoke for over an hour. She told me, “People will know your name, but don’t let them define you by how you look. Show them who you are.” She spoke of ancestors, purpose, and spirit. I felt electrified.
Before I left, I asked if I could take one of her classes. She said she didn’t allow people to audit, but I replied, “With all due respect, I’m not just anyone.” She smiled and asked her assistant to get my information.
Learning from a Legend
Weeks later, I was sitting in her class at Wake Forest, front row, notebook in hand. Her classes were alive with poetry, laughter, and the kind of truth that stays with you. Soon after, she asked me to perform Phenomenal Woman at her 80th birthday celebration and street-naming ceremony. We met privately to rehearse. She corrected a few misprints in my copy, saying, “I didn’t write it that way. Let’s fix that.”
She gifted me a Webster’s dictionary, signed “In Joy,” and inscribed with this reminder:
“Know the meaning of every word you say, write, and speak.”
From Dr. Angelou to Tyler Perry
Not long after graduation, Dr. Angelou invited me to her brownstone in Harlem, where she introduced me to George Faison and others in her circle. At one point, she asked me what I wanted to do next. I said, “I want to act.”
She smiled, called her assistant to bring her phone, and made a call.
When she hung up, she slid a piece of paper across the table: Tyler Perry’s contact information.
I was stunned. I didn’t call right away. Truthfully, I didn’t think I was ready. But a few days later, Dr. Angelou followed up:
“Call that number.”
I did. And soon, I was flying to Atlanta to meet Tyler Perry’s team. I was cast as a featured extra in Madea Goes to Jail, walking behind Viola Davis in a courtroom scene. In the makeup trailer, I saw my headshot taped to the mirror, labeled: Maya Angelou’s granddaughter. That was the moment it hit me: This is real.
Years later, I worked with Tyler Perry again on Madea’s Family Funeral and now star in The Oval on BET.
Carrying Her Light Forward
Though Dr. Angelou is no longer with us, her influence continues to shape my journey in profound ways. I carry her lessons, her wisdom, and the cherished moments we shared as a constant source of strength. Her legacy inspires me to reflect her light—through my acting career, through my work with The Michael’s Daughter Foundation, and the stories I share on The In Trive.
Her voice still echoes within me, urging me to rise above challenges, walk with grace, and live with purpose. She taught me that no matter where we come from, our stories have the power to transcend barriers, uplift others, and transform lives.
And so, I celebrate her often. When times are tough, I look up at the clouds and sunrays, knowing she’s smiling back at me.Thank you for reading.
In Joy,
Ciera Payton
