Malcolm X is one of the most misunderstood activists in history. There are various examples of how perspectives on the icon can be downright ironic. One is a 1959 documentary titled “The Hate That Hate Produced,” which introduced the country to a form of Black nationalism promoted by the Nation of Islam. In many ways, the documentary contributed to how a significant number of people still see Malcolm X – as a violent and virulent racist.
Yet in the days leading up to his centennial, there is a singular word that perpetuates itself in this country and worldwide – love. It is a reminder that he was born May 19, 1925, in Omaha, Nebraska, to Earl and Louise Little, and that his legacy lives through the people who love him the most.
“People had the wrong idea of who Malcolm was, especially at his youth. What that does is it diminishes the importance of family and the importance of the village that’s needed to raise a child,” says Ilyasah Shabazz, one of Malcolm X and Betty Shabazz’s six daughters. “Malcolm’s parents did a great job, and that is the reason he was able to grow up and become Malcolm X.”
Why We Wrote This
Despite all the books and movies, Malcolm X remains one of the most misunderstood activists of the 20th century. Ahead of the political icon’s 100th birthday May 19, our columnist went on a journey to get to know the civil rights leader through people who remember him.
According to Dr. Shabazz, Mrs. Little was a recording secretary for the Universal Negro Improvement Association, which was founded by political activist Marcus Garvey. Mr. Little was chapter president in Omaha.
Malcolm’s life would change dramatically after his father’s death in 1931. In 1939, after Louise and the Littles moved to Michigan, she was declared legally insane. Malcolm and his siblings were forced into foster care, and he eventually landed in Boston with his sister, Ella Collins.
Nevertheless, a diasporic love of Black people was passed down to Malcolm X. It wasn’t just a functional affection, but a fierce one. That affection has been reciprocated in recent days in places such as Boston and Washington, a series of declarations expressed the world over.
“Malcolm would be proud of me”
Near Malcolm’s and Ella’s home on Dale Street in Boston is a vibrant place named Frugal Bookstore, owned by a husband and wife. The topic of conversation on a recent afternoon is five dozen children’s books titled, “Betty Before X,” a depiction of the early life of Malcolm’s wife.
Leonard Egerton, one of Frugal’s co-owners, gets off the phone. His expression changes from one of urgency to relief. “Malcolm would be proud of me,” he says before letting out a sigh.
A customer plans to give away the books for Malcolm X’s birthday Monday and the order had gone awry. “Like I said, Malcolm would be proud because I didn’t let [the supplier] walk over me and accept that, especially for his day,” he says.
The tension is relieved when a beautiful almond-skinned child wearing a Boston Celtics hoodie walks into the bookstore with his mother. The two peruse the seemingly endless amount of children’s books before engaging in conversation with Mr. Egerton. Then Lisa Fischer’s “All Around The World” begins to play in the background.
Clarrissa Cropper, Mr. Egerton’s wife and Frugal’s co-owner, matches the young boy’s energy in song and dance, her two-step matching his waving and movement. “Been around the world, and I, I, I,” the speaker blares.
This dance – and a quick glance around Frugal – shows its commitment to the Roxbury neighborhood. A flyer for a community read-a-thon of “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” May 17 and 18 greets people at the door. Malcolm X once said, “My alma mater was books, a good library.”
“Roxbury doesn’t always get the props it deserves as far as the culture, the history and the people. … We’re promoting literacy and community with book signings, story time, and events with our Ujima project. That’s community,” Ms. Cropper says. “We want to have a space for the community and share that space – to be a positive light in Roxbury.”
“It’s incredible to just be able to say that we’re in a location, a space, a part of the city where someone as great as Malcolm X walked these streets,” Mr. Egerton says. “His nephew comes to the store and buys books here.”
“Let’s take a walk around Harlem”
A. Peter Bailey is the quintessential journalist, with a love for libraries and telling stories. He lights up at the sight of a silver Olympus digital voice recorder. His affinity for that shimmering piece of technology is profound: There is a tape recorder used by Malcolm X at Mosque #7 that is part of the collection at the National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington.
Mr. Bailey was born in Columbus, Georgia, in 1938. He spent the bulk of his childhood in Tuskegee, Alabama, before he graduated from high school in Germany, where his father was stationed in the military. He vividly remembers the first time he heard Malcolm X speak.
“The first time I heard him speak was in the summer of 1962,” recalls Mr. Bailey. “I had just moved to Harlem on a Friday. And then on Saturday, I told the friend who helped me move in, ‘Let’s take a walk around Harlem.’
“We got down to 116th Street. … They said Malcolm X was about to speak,” Mr. Bailey adds. “By the time he was finished, I was a Malcolmite.”
Years later, Mr. Bailey was part of the organizational meeting for what would become the Organization of Afro-American Unity.
When Malcolm X founded the OAAU in 1964, he fulfilled the destiny of his conscientious parents. Mr. Bailey describes him as a “Secretary of State for Black folks in America” because he met with so many African presidents during the early to mid-1960s.
“Brother Malcolm believed very strongly in the necessity of Black unity within the United States and Pan-Africanism. [He believed] for our very survival, that we develop a close relationship between people who are of African descent,” Mr. Bailey says. “One of his goals was to take the United States government before the United Nations Commission on Human Rights, and accuse it of being either unable or unwilling to protect the lives or property of Black people.”
Before Malcolm X could further hold America to account on a world stage, however, he was assassinated. Mr. Bailey describes being in an “almost total depression” after what happened at the Audubon Ballroom in New York on Feb. 21, 1965. But he and others found ways to honor the global icon. Mr. Bailey assisted with the publication of a collection of Malcolm’s words and speeches titled, “Malcolm X: The Man and His Times,” by John Henrik Clarke, who also helped found the OAAU.
Mr. Bailey also founded a group that remembers more than Malcolm X’s birthday, but his words and actions, aptly named “Positive Black Folks in Action.” He wants people to remember his friend as a “great human being, a master teacher, and also a great learner.”
“My parents knew an essential truth”
On Saturday, before her father’s centennial celebration, Dr. Shabazz reads aloud a children’s book – “Malcolm Little: The Boy Who Grew Up to Become Malcolm X” – at the African American History museum, which some call the “Blacksonian.”
There are sweet reminders of Malcolm X’s influence here this weekend, from Dr. Shabazz’s presence, to Malcolm memorabilia, to a dessert in the Sweet Home Café, which shares the nickname he gave his wife, “Apple Brown Betty.”
But there’s a moment where the gravity of tragedy stops Dr. Shabazz’s words. It is a clearing of the throat, a lump that hasn’t gone away after 60 years. But love presses on.
“Growing up, my parents made sure my sisters and I were exposed to lessons that empowered us to love ourselves. … We also learned about the contributions that the African diaspora made to the world as well, so we never relied on others to determine our self-worth,” she said. “My parents knew an essential truth. If I learn to love me, I can learn to love you. But if I don’t love [myself], I can never love you.”
More than 20 years ago, Dr. Shabazz wrote a memoir titled “Growing Up X.” In many ways, the reading picked up where that conversation left off. She spoke glowingly of her mother’s resilience and mentorship. She also talked about the expectations placed on her because of her lineage, how people expected her to be a revolutionary.
“It wasn’t until I went to college that I realized. I was voted as the president of the Black Student Union. I called my oldest sister and asked, ‘What am I supposed to do?’” she said. “My sister was like, ‘You don’t have to pass a test to be Malcolm X’s daughter. You already are.’”
“Whoever you are is good enough,” Dr. Shabazz added. “I share that story with my students so that even all of us understand in our moments of vulnerability and insecurity … that we are good just as we are.”
