How Muhammad Ali’s Death Made Me Revisit Malcolm X. Again.
By Rob Huckins
I first became acquainted with Malcolm X in late 1992, when I saw the Spike Lee biopic about the late civil rights leader, a film that resulted in me researching more about his life and what he believed. I knew next to nothing about him prior to seeing the film but Malcolm X became one of my favorite American historical figures and remains so today, nearly a quarter century after my first real introduction to his story.
At the time, I was completely absorbed by the film and its story, in no small part because of Denzel Washington’s dazzling turn as the title character, a role I remain convinced is among the top two or three performances of his career. Lee played fast and loose with some parts of the narrative but the guts are there in full form and the film remains one of my all time favorites. In real life, Malcolm X was just as engaging and I became fascinated with his speeches and autobiography, a book I return to every few years for another read. It ranks, for me, among the very best autobiographies in American history.
Lee’s film churned out a huge marketing blitz (for that time period, anyway) of music and merchandise showcasing the iconic “X” as its centerpiece. There were hats, shirts, posters, more books and soundtracks everywhere, most of it perfectly fine but strangely out of pace with what Malcolm X himself probably would have felt comfortable with seeing.
One of Malcolm X’s early and most famous comrades, Muhammad Ali, died earlier this year and his passing was worth nothing for the obvious historical significance, but it also moved me to examine Malcolm X once again. The two were friends during X’s peak involvement with the Nation of Islam (Black Muslims), an organization diametrically opposed to the more mainstream (and more realistic) path to civil rights carved out by Martin Luther King, Jr.
Ali had turned his back on Cassius Clay forever by that point and the two were seen as two of the most famous representatives of the Muslim world at the time. But once X began his turn from radical Islam to a more traditional, global interpretation of the religion and one less driven by white hatred and black nationalism, the two largely parted ways. It was inevitable. Ali was a boxing champion, nationally recognized and irresistible for the Nation of Islam to use as its own symbol of strength while X was maturing and becoming more focused, his fiery Islamic dogmatism tempered by a measured, more calculated approach to achieving the Herculean task of attaining recognition of civil rights for his fellow black Americans. He was still a Muslim, but he knew there was more out there, more needed than just repeating “by any means necessary.”
I have always been riveted by the pre-1964 Malcolm X for his brimstone-laced tongue and sharp takedowns on the obvious injustices around him during the 1960s, but his post-1964 era is perhaps his most fascinating persona, mainly because of the transformation he managed to make in his relatively short life. While King, Ali and scores of others during this era (as well as before and after) were equally impressive and arguably contributed more in sum to the Civil Rights Movement as a whole, X’s presence and representation of just what equal racial treatment would entail is nothing short of visionary.
By forming his own organizations, Muslim Mosque, Inc. and the Organization of Afro-American Unity, after a trip throughout and around Africa and the Middle East (while completing the hajj along the way), X reached a level of enlightenment worthy of comparison to any Enlightenment thinker or American Founder. He did this in the face of lethal threats from all comers, including his own former organization, The Nation of Islam, which eventually killed X in early 1965, months shy of his fortieth birthday.
Ali faced his own considerable tribulations and challenges, as well. His stance against the Vietnam War and repudiation of his “slave name” are nothing short of heroic by any measure, and in many ways, his stature has always outshone that of X. There isn’t inherently anything wrong about this and it is a natural result given the number of years Ali outlived his one time friend and counterpart. But while it seems to me Ali’s role in civil rights has always been exaggerated, X’s remains strangely underplayed.
Ali never repudiated the Nation of Islam or its charlatan and corrupt leadership, most notably Louis Farrakhan and NOI founder Elijah Muhammad. He certainly paid a heavy price for his lucrative boxing career with his mind and body, and lived longer than most thought he would by the end. But by the last third of his life, Ali mostly got a free pass for anything he did earlier in his career, even though he showed very little maturity or development in this area. While most want to lionize Ali for his civil rights contributions, he should be celebrated more for his social rise through boxing and his later treatment of regular people and charitable donations.
Ali’s death and subsequent media coverage made me wonder if anyone would remember X properly as years rolled on, especially since he has already been dead for decades. In what amounts to both curse and gift, our society is quite short-sighted in its remembrance of things past and tend to move on very quickly. X seems like eons ago while Ali will be forever remembered in films and funny interviews with Howard Cosell. This is not meant to disparage Ali whatsoever but rather point to the deficit in appreciation for Malcolm X these days. Many others are remembered for what they did to usher in a more racially leveled playing field but X’s legacy is either misunderstood or subdued entirely. We have some boulevards named after him and a couple of landmarks but that’s really it. He gave his life (literally) to the cause of civil rights and made arguably the most impressive philosophical transformation during his life of most in modern American history.
Unlike many of his contemporaries, X was for all accounts exactly who he said he was. He was a husband with no record of infidelity. He was a father. He lived his life with such standard decency it was almost boring to those who traced his movements and connections. His family never recovered from his death and his financial situation was far from lucrative at the time of his death. The lives of his daughters and grandchildren have been a mix of quiet success, sporadic tragedy and a continual, somber remembrance of their father’s legacy.
The beautiful eulogy of Malcolm X by Ossie Davis is perhaps the most touching and textured tribute to his life, the focus being on his geographic center point, Harlem, his various racial roles (all of which Davis argues were “too small” for this larger than life man) and his self-realization that his time in this life was nearing an end, however it came. In the end, Malcolm X remains one of our most compelling American historical figures, one whose presence, even in old age, would have been integral to the current racially charged events of our time. Freddy Gray. Ferguson. Baltimore. Trayvon Martin. This is just a scratch on the surface of our current racial landscape, one which seemingly has no end in sight and gets marginal, often condescending attention by mass media outlets and political candidates.
Malcolm X could have helped. Even just a little. He would have had to. I like to think what might have happened if both X and King had lived to be elder statement of the American black community, how they would have dealt with these issues and events, what they might have done. Of course, we’ll never know.
In order for us to begin to deal with these issues, it is helpful to reach into our past a bit, also, for there could be some wisdom to be gained from those who passed through this way once before. Malcolm X did not have all the answers. To the contrary, he espoused how little he actually knew the longer he gazed into the face of racism and prejudice in the United States. But he was working toward understanding. By 1964, he had turned a corner. He had already taken the first few steps in his thousand mile journey toward making a significant difference, one very different than the impact he already had.
The death of Muhammad Ali was sad in many ways but in one way, it rekindled the age of Malcolm X, reminding us all what could have been had he lived out a natural life. His autobiography should be on a short list of required American reading. The aforementioned Davis eulogy is modern spoken word poetry. Our society is in many ways much improved from the era during which X lived. But there are miles to go. In order for change to occur, it will take a willingness to remember, to delve back into where we’ve been in order to understand where we need to go. Remembering and appreciating Malcolm X would be as good a place to start as any. For all of us.
