"People don't realize how a man's whole life can be changed by one book."I was 10-years-old the first time I read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. There was an old, shabby copy in our classroom library that always drew me in. I would grab that book and read a chapter here and there, until my teacher Mrs. Blowe allowed me to take it towards the end of the school year, I probably would've swiped it had she not consented. I kept that copy for years to come, not because I didn’t want to purchase another, but because of what it meant to me. It was funny that a book released over thirty years earlier was so profound on me and nearly twenty-five years later, the impact is just as great.
— Malcolm X (The Autobiography of Malcolm X)
Keep in mind that this is public school in 1988; up until
that point, the only Black folks of relevance I learned of in school were
Martin Luther King Jr., Jesse Jackson, George Washington Carver, Rosa Parks and
Crispus Attucks. Luckily, I was part of an after-school program that stressed the
importance of Black culture in America, which opened our eyes to the imprint
African-Americans had made on this country and the world, things that weren’t
in our Social Studies books, but had an impact on our everyday life. We learned
about Garret A. Morgan and the traffic light, Dr. Charles Drew, Phyllis
Wheatley, Mary McLeod Bethune, the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense, learned
some Swahili and about this guy named Malcolm Little, who would become Detroit
Red, Malcolm X and El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz.
And there I was after recess, in that corner reading a few
pages at a time, intrigued at how this man, became an icon, someone who was so
great, that I’d never heard about before. During that summer of 1988, Malcolm X
became the symbol of the unlimited power of change, the result of investing in you
to be better than you were yesterday. This is long before Spike Lee began his
ad campaign for his movie, before I saw Do
the Right Thing or fully understood the image from Boogie Down Productions’
album cover. I was just a child, on the verge becoming a man, learning how from
someone who had lived and died to be recognized as a man. There were a few
years when I forgot to use the tools I picked up in those pages, but I would
always find myself drawn to a copy, as a reminder of the book with the ripped
cover that changed my life.
3 comments
Wow! You read it at 10. I was 17. Ha! My world history teacher who was Muslim (NOI) inspired me to read it. I think I still have my copy in my treasure box.
Tafari
Yeah, I was fortunate to have a teacher early on that had a grasp of culture, literature and really took to me embracing both.
A good book I recommend is Black Boy by Richard Wright. Very telling and inspiring! One point that really moved me is that Richard had stayed home to wait for a repairman. When he paid him, and the repairman/brother noticed he didn't know how much change he should get back. The repairman/brother took time out of his day and taught him how to count. Richard was amazed because it took a hour, but he could tell that it was important to the brother that he help him learn this skill. Good book!
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