Choosing an inaugural blog post has been a concept so scary that I have postponed it for months now. What is the best topic to use as a springboard to introduce myself, and hopefully, my writing, to the “masses” (it’s relative)? A few days ago I found a topic that hit me so hard I knew it was the one. After procrastinating for emotional reasons as well as simply because I procrastinate, I sat down at 3:00 am on Friday morning to explore this topic. I should add here that I am shooting for a Friday post every week. Fridays are good for me for a variety of reasons, which may be clear later. On to the topic at hand for now.
I don’t know if any of you reading this remember over a decade ago when Betty Shabazz, wife of Malcolm X/ Al Hajj Malik Shabazz, was killed by her grandson, who set fire to her home. At the time he was an adolescent. I remember that news report well and I was stunned and hurt by the report. Well, several days ago I read a post here, about the grandson in question, Malcolm Shabazz, and his story. Now 23, the man has been in prison for years and is now attempting to get his life and order and claim his heritage and legacy. I tried to read the whole article but I was shaking and in tears I was so emotional. I could not finish it then and have yet to read the article line for line as I just get so upset.
I am a Muslim at this point in my life, but way back then I was not. I still felt an incredible connection to all of the Black leaders of history, in particular Malcolm X as many young people did then as they have for decades, but for my generation because of the Spike Lee directed film X, based on the book The Autobiography of Malcolm X written with Alex Haley. I had known Muslim people all my life, from family members to my first best friend and several friends along the way but I, like many others, felt a major sense of pride as it related to the Nation of Islam because they were The Black Muslims, and their radical ideas benefited all American Blacks, or intended to. The politics surrounding Al Hajj’s death notwithstanding and the information that has come out in recent years as it relates to his assassination I still love the Nation, though I am not that sort of Muslim.
I digress. Malcolm X stood for so many things and Betty stood for survival. The photograph of her and those little daughters lined up in a row after his death are the Black American equivalent to Jackie Kennedy and her little son and daughter in that classic picture after the Kennedy assassination. Betty was as much my grandmother, in my mind, as she was her killer’s and I felt then that he took away someone whose importance was invaluable to Black society and I was pissed. I was a teenager then, so it was allowed however.
I consider myself to now be a woman who understands a lot about the world in which I live. I have the sociology and psychology courses behind me that play a major part in how I understand and relate to people. I know the mental issues people overall face, the issues Black people face, and the issues Black Americans face. I know these issues are real. So why is it so hard for me to forgive this stranger even now? I am saddened by my own immaturity in the intensity of my feelings towards this man I have never met who I could probably assess correctly given proper time and create a truthful case study based on his life and issues. Yet I seem incapable of providing the objective view necessary to even read an article about the man. Seeing his picture, with the classic Malcolm X pose, that accompanied the article made my blood boil. His name made my blood boil. That he should feel as if he has a legacy to claim makes me want to scream: He took his legacy away from us as a collective; he has none!
And yet. And yet I am interested, extremely so, in what he has to say. I want to understand, to forgive, and to be able to support him in his quest. He was so young when he committed that heinous act and I know he could not be held truly responsible for it. The activist in me wants to shout for him, to let the world learn what we do to the families that we hold up in love, adoration, but with a microscope, so that we understand that we have a responsibility to protect them too and we learn to do so. I hope I can get to that point.
I will try to read the article for the fifth time later this weekend but I am not looking forward to it. I intended for this post to be much deeper, more interesting, grammatically correct, and easier to read than it’s shaping up to be but after thinking even this much about the situation I have exhausted myself. I do not plan to write about this again, unless in a short, update sort of way, but I am happy I took the first step; I have spoken about it, identified that I am the problem (I really have, even this post seems to suggest otherwise), and I have continually prayed about it and I will continue to do so.
I'm adding the link again here just to ensure people can get to it. I ranted on the "comments" section, so you can read my initial reaction as well.
