“Still I Rise.”

I have to tell each and every one of you that it doesn't matter how old you are, how young you are, you can achieve anything that you set your mind to. The ride for me was not and has not been easy, and maybe your ride won't be easy, but I'm not standing here because I just kind of cruised on, but I've had my shares of ups ups and downs. I've had many struggles. I've had blood clots in both my lungs at the same time, and I lived through tragedies and controversies. I've had people look past me because of the color of my skin. I've had people overlook me because I was a woman. I had critics say I will never win another Grand Slam when I was only at number 7, and now here I stand today with 21 Grand Slam titles, and I'm still going. You may write me down in history with your bitter twisted lies. You may trod me with the very dirt, but still like dust I rise. Just like moon and suns with the certainty of tides, just like hopes and springing high, still I rise. Did you want to see me broken, bowed head and lowered eyes, shoulders falling like teardrops weakened by my soulful cries? Out of the huts of history's shame, I rise. From a past that's rooted in pain, I rise. I'm a black ocean leaping wide, welling and swelling. I bear in the tide, leaving behind nights of terror and fear. I rise into the daybreak that's wonderfully clear. I rise. I am the dream and the hope of a slave. I rise. I rise. I rise.