In the Prologue, Angelou shares a short anecdote with readers about an embarrassing moment from her childhood. During an Easter Sunday service, Angelou fails to remember the poem she memorized to read in front of the congregation. As she runs out of the church, humiliated, she has an accident. Angelou utilizes both hyperbole and simile in this moment to convey its significance:
I tried to hold, to squeeze it back, to keep it from speeding, but when I reached the church porch I knew I'd have to let it go, or it would probably run right back up to my head and my poor head would burst like a dropped watermelon, and all the brains and spit and tongue and eyes would roll all over the place.
The urine, in this story, symbolizes far more than simply a botched poetry reading on Easter Sunday. Angelou must hold things back in other parts of her life: information, joy, anger, hatred. As a young Black girl, she is forced to hold her tongue about sexual violence, racist injustice, and a plethora of thoughts adults don't want to hear spoken aloud by children. To represent this overwhelming repression, Angelou combines simile with hyperbole in the above passage from the prologue. Her assertion that her head will burst "like a dropped watermelon" if she holds back her urine is clearly an instance of figurative overstatement. This overstatement highlights the intensity of Angelou's feelings, which likely extend beyond simply having to pee.
In Chapter 9, Angelou remembers the first time she met her mother as a young girl. Understandably, having little to no memory of her mother, young Maya Angelou spent the first seven to eight years of her life building a mythical, otherworldly portrait of the woman who brought her into the world. When this mythical portrait encounters the reality of Vivian Baxter, the natural result is hyperbole:
My mother's beauty literally assailed me. [...] Her smile widened her mouth beyond her cheeks beyond her ears and seemingly through the walls to the street outside. I was struck dumb.
Angelou describes her mother's smile as stretching "beyond her ears" and into the street outside, so powerful is its beauty. Angelou utilizes the imaginative extremes of childhood in this passage to portray her relationship with said mother, whom she idolizes beyond belief. Vivian Baxter's smile does not literally stretch all the way to the street; instead, Angelou uses hyperbole in the above excerpt to emphasize the extreme impact her mother's beauty has on her. As a young girl who has been called unattractive for most of her life, Angelou cannot comprehend being biologically related to her mother. This beauty creates further distance between Angelou and Vivian, exacerbating Angelou's childish hero-worship.