In Chapter 10, Angelou utilizes verbal irony in her initial portrayal of St. Louis:
The Negro section of St. Louis in the mid-thirties had all the finesse of a gold-rush town. Prohibition, gambling, and their related vocations were so obviously practiced that it was hard for me to believe that they were against the law.
Angelou states that St. Louis had "all the finesse of a gold-rush town" in the mid-1930s, by which she means to imply the opposite: neither St. Louis or the gold-rush towns have any finesse, in her mind. The American gold-rush towns of the late 19th and early 20th centuries were often hastily-constructed affairs, built quickly to accommodate large numbers of (mostly) men moving west to search for gold. These towns were often rife with criminal activity, lacking law enforcement infrastructure—or even, at times, laws.
Through verbal irony, Angelou reveals that St. Louis has similar issues with lawlessness. Indeed, many of the perpetrators of said lawlessness are members of her own family: it is heavily implied by Angelou that Mr. Freeman's death was not accidental, but caused by one or more of her uncles after the trial. St. Louis's instability therefore thematically reflects on the general instability of Angelou's family situation.
In Chapter 11, Angelou remembers the first time that Mr. Freeman sexually assaulted her. At the time, being eight years old, she did not understand what was happening to her. What results is an important example of dramatic irony:
Finally [Mr. Freeman] was quiet, and then came the nice part. He held me so softly that I wished he wouldn't ever let me go. I felt at home. From the way he was holding me I knew he'd never let me go or let anything bad happen to me. This was probably my real father and we had found each other at last.
Mr. Freeman is in the process of raping Angelou in this passage, a fact that most readers will pick up on from the few context clues provided. Angelou chooses to write this passage from the limited perspective of her younger self, who is unaware of what is happening to her (unlike the audience). A young Angelou takes simple comfort from the physical closeness of an adult she believes is "safe," one whom she trusts to not "let anything bad happen" to her. There is tragic irony in the fact that, even as she attests to her comfort and sense of safety, readers know Angelou is being violated.
In Chapter 13, Angelou describes the behavior and attitudes of the nurses who care for her following her rape. Notably, these nurses seem to subconsciously equate the act of rape with that of consensual sexual intercourse. This attitude imprints itself on young Maya Angelou, affecting her perception of the assault. In an example of situational irony, Angelou echoes the nurses' sentiments, comparing her own rape to puberty:
I was eight, and grown. Even the nurses in the hospital had told me that now I had nothing to fear. "The worst is over for you," they had said. So I put the words in all the smirking mouths.
The situational irony at play in this passage reflects broadly on society's treatment of women and young girls. One might expect the nurses to regard Angelou's rape as a horrific and traumatic event. Instead, they associate Angelou's rape with puberty, placing it on the same level as an important milestone in human reproductive development. Angelou is "eight, and grown"—in the eyes of the hospital workers, her sexual assault takes on the form of a kind of prepubescent puberty.
The false equivalency at the heart of this ironic passage stems from society's undue fixation on female sexual "purity." Whenever a women or girl has her first sexual encounter—even if that encounter is non-consensual and violent—the event is considered important because it marks that person's loss of sexual "innocence." This obsession with female virginity is often stronger in religious communities, including the one in which Angelou grew up. As a consequence, Angelou has been primed in her home environment to consider any first sexual encounter incredibly important. She views her rape as life-defining, as opposed to something she can move on from—an attitude that perhaps worsens the traumatic after-effects of the assault.