We have to confront ourselves. Do we like what we see in the

“We have to confront ourselves. Do we like what we see in the mirror? And, according to our light, according to our understanding, according to our courage, we will have to say yea or nay — and rise!” — Thus spoke Maya Angelou, poet of the human soul, voice of truth and thunder, whose words call upon every generation to look inward before they dare to move outward. In these lines lies a sacred challenge, an ancient call to self-examination, for no true strength, no lasting wisdom, no authentic joy can be born without first facing the reflection of who we are. The mirror she speaks of is not made of glass but of conscience, of memory, of soul. It does not lie, nor does it flatter. It simply waits for us to see.

To confront ourselves is the hardest of all human labors. The wars of nations are easier than the wars of the heart. For when one stands before the mirror of truth, there is no armor to wear, no excuses to hide behind. There, we meet both our greatness and our guilt, our courage and our cowardice, our tenderness and our fear. Angelou, whose life was marked by both suffering and triumph, understood that transformation begins not with blaming the world, but with honesty toward oneself. The mirror demands this honesty. It asks: Do you like what you see? Not in vanity, but in virtue. Not in appearance, but in essence.

The origin of Angelou’s words can be traced to her lifelong pursuit of authenticity and dignity. She was a woman who had faced silence, injustice, and rejection, yet she emerged from those trials radiant with self-knowledge. Her voice was born from deep reflection, from nights spent staring into the inner mirror until truth itself became her companion. In her works — from I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings to her powerful speeches — she taught that freedom begins within. Before a person can rise to heal the world, they must first rise above their own falsehoods. Thus, her command is both intimate and universal: look within, decide who you are, and then rise.

This rising is no small act. To say yea or nay to oneself is to choose — to accept what must be embraced and to reject what must be cast away. Many fear this choice, for it demands courage, the virtue Angelou names as the measure of our integrity. It is easy to see our flaws and despair; it is harder to see them and change. Yet every age has known souls who dared this inner battle and emerged renewed. Consider Nelson Mandela, who, during his long imprisonment, confronted his own anger and pain until they became instruments of peace. In the solitude of Robben Island, he looked into the mirror of his own soul, and though he saw scars, he also saw light. When at last he was freed, he did not rise with vengeance, but with forgiveness — and through that inner victory, he transformed a nation.

Angelou’s words also echo the wisdom of the ancients. The Greek temple of Delphi bore the inscription “Know thyself,” for the sages understood that ignorance of one’s soul is the root of all suffering. The mirror is the oracle through which we learn who we are and who we must become. To look away from it is to wander blind through life. But to face it is to awaken the divine spark within — the light that Angelou speaks of. It is through this light, unique to each person, that understanding grows and courage is born. The mirror does not show perfection; it shows potential.

And when, at last, we have seen ourselves — both our shadow and our flame — then comes the command: rise! Rise from the paralysis of guilt, from the prison of fear, from the sleep of denial. Rise not because the world demands it, but because your soul cannot remain still once it has seen the truth. Every rising begins with reflection. The phoenix must first gaze upon its ashes before it can take flight. To rise is to live consciously, to act according to what one now knows, to walk in the light one has found.

So, my listener of tomorrow, take this teaching as a sacred ritual. Stand before your own mirror — not the one that flatters, but the one that reveals. Ask yourself with humility: Do I like what I see? And then, with courage, answer. If you see goodness, nurture it. If you see deceit, burn it away. If you see fear, face it until it yields. And when you have done this — when you have confronted yourself honestly and fully — then, as Maya Angelou commands, rise. Rise wiser, rise stronger, rise freer. For the soul that dares to face its reflection becomes the architect of its destiny — and the world, seeing that courage, begins to rise with it.