MLK Day 2016.
My son and I were up early to make our way to Brooklyn Academy of Music’s 30th annual celebration of Dr. King. It was a beautiful morning. The sunlight dazzled off of the white snow and the energy in the neighborhood felt particularly weightless. Folks warmly greeted one another with smiles and proud nods as we entered the Peter Jay Sharp Building and made our way to the BAM Howard Gilman Opera House for the morning’s festivities. Esteemed guests New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio and the city’s First Lady Chirlane McCray, as well as keynote speaker Michael Eric Dyson were among those who attended what has become the city’s largest public celebration of King. Choirs sang, attendees prayed and a massive image of Dr. King loomed gloriously over the stage. It was one of the most befitting tributes that I had ever attended, and it meant so much to me that my son was there to bear witness.
Inspired by the uplifting series of events, at the close, he enthusiastically said, “I can’t wait until we do this again on Malcolm X’s birthday!” I stood frozen for a moment, before getting out a slippery, “Yyyyeah… I can’t wait either!”
Malcolm X is my personal hero and my favorite minister and activist. By the time I was born in the late 1970s, both Malcolm and Martin had been assassinated. But by the early 1980s, the nation had been galvanized into action in support of a King holiday. Stevie Wonder was a principle player using his 1980 Hotter Than July tour to build momentum while championing the legislation. Wonder’s hit song and rallying cry “Happy Birthday” remains one of the most quintessential examples of the symbiotic relationship between art and activism at work, and was profoundly instrumental in the process of getting the bill passed while exposing the bigoted politicians who refused to vote in favor (four of whom are still serving on the Senate today). The opening lyrics capture the climate of staunch opposition advocates had been facing since the legislation was introduced four days after King’s assassination.
“You know it doesn’t make much sense
There ought to be a law against
Anyone who takes offense
At a day in your celebration”
The bill was finally passed in 1983. The first King holiday was observed in 1986 (the same year Mrs. Coretta Scott King wrote the Senate Judiciary Committee requesting their rejection of President Regan’s nomination of Jeff Sessions to a federal judgeship due to his openly racist stances.) As a kid growing up in the 80s, it was all so palpable to me. Pop culture was fully engaged in the recognition, and the year began with “King Holiday”, a “We Are the World” style anthem spearheaded by Dexter King and performed by the King Dream Chorus whose members included Whitney Houston, Run-DMC and New Edition. McDonald’s even launched a duo of commercials in honor of the newly established holiday. Recognition at last.
But in my house, Malcolm reigned. Perhaps, because I’m a New Yorker. My mother would often paint vivid pictures of the social, cultural and political environment in 1960s New York City, and I’d always get a distinct chill when she’d talk about gathering with friends to catch Malcolm preaching “down on 125th Street.” Growing up, I remember watching him on Gil Noble’s Like It Is and having a small painting of him in our apartment. The distinctiveness of Malcolm’s message resonated with me, as did his prose, phrasing, style and flair. His cool and collected debate style; his Harlem swag; his big, bright, flashing smile; and his tall and regal stature were magnetic. He had this ability to take on America with blunt precision and iron clad substance and to also admonish his people with simultaneous electrifying love, striking a brilliant balance that has never since been achieved. He was the chief progenitor of #Woke-ness.
The courage and consequences around being who Dr. Cornel West describes as “the greatest truth teller about the black condition that we’ve known in the 20th century” also captivated me. In Muhammad Ali’s autobiography, The Soul of a Butterfly, Ali described Malcolm as “a visionary, ahead of us all.” It was Malcolm’s foreknowledge and prodigious wisdom which made him such a force. He made you, whoever “you” was, deal with “you”. It was that very thing which Ali was not ready to reconcile as a young Muslim coming into the Nation of Islam as Malcolm was preparing his exit. However, he would later call his ultimate shunning of his greatest mentor “one of the mistakes that I regret most in my life.” For all of his heroism, I can only imagine how isolating and saddening it may have been for Malcolm to see so much more than many could.
“Malcolm X did something that was very rare in Black leadership,” says West in a 2015 special about Malcolm’s assassination. “He viewed white fears, insecurities and anxieties as an afterthought. Most black leaders have to deal with white fears, insecurities and anxieties in order to get about. Malcolm viewed white fears, insecurities and anxieties as tertiary. What was at the center was Black suffering, what was at the center was a need for Black awakening. That pits him radically against the mainstream and white America.”
Malcolm and his importance as what my son would describe as “a change maker” had been the subject of many conversations between us, and he had subsequently deemed Malcolm just as worthy as Martin of a celebration which would bring out the city’s most meritorious leaders, thinkers, and performers. I couldn’t find it in my heart to tell him that as far as I was aware, there was no such celebration of this magnitude in New York City, let alone that there was no such national holiday for the man the great Ossie Davis referred to as “Our Shining Black Prince.” I had to figure something out. Fast.
Flash back to November 18, 1992.
Just six years after the first MLK holiday was observed, Spike Lee set Hollywood afire with the release of his tour de force feature film, Malcolm X. It was an innovative biopic that captured the electricity and timelessness of Malcolm. Lee brilliantly branded Malcolm as an enduring and relatable figure, bringing the spirit of Malcolm to the language, music and style of the 90s generation. I was in high school when the movie was released and I can tell you first hand that there was nothing more dope than donning a black, snap-back baseball cap with the white X embroidered on the front with your baggy Cross Colours jeans. Alternative hip hop group Arrested Development wrote the rousing “Revolution” for the end credits as images of real-life Malcolm scrolled up the black backdrop, followed by cameos from Janet Jackson, Tracy Chapman, Michael Jordan and Magic Johnson. Malcolm had become the revolutionary of the 90s, and seemed to have finally been given his rightful seat among the greatest American leaders in history. But now, exactly a quarter century later, it’s not enough. And my son’s statement made that clear to me.
When cultural critic Touré wrote a 2012 piece for TIME championing the need for a federal holiday for Malcolm, it spoke to my innermost reasoning. “There are several black Americans who it could be argued should have a day — Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Frederick Douglass, W.E.B. DuBois, Ida B. Wells, Jackie Robinson, Thurgood Marshall and others,” he writes, “but I think we should seriously consider a national holiday celebrating the life of a man who indelibly changed America: Malcolm X.”
Throughout the essay, Touré brings clarity to the true essence of Malcolm while outlining what we would use the day to celebrate. “Malcolm was someone who saw himself as a global citizen, traveling and taking his critique of America to the rest of the world and treating America like the global citizen it is. This country is special in part because we are composed of people who relatively recently came from somewhere else and Malcolm fully embraced the diasporic nature of Americanness and thought of himself as a member of the world community.”
As we grapple with the ambush of a White House transparently steeped in white supremacy and resistance becomes a unifying refrain, Malcolm’s messages which exposed American hypocrisy and fake liberalism; his highly evolved and illuminating ideologies around restoration, reorientation, education, economic security and self-defense for the disenfranchised have never been more constitutive. And for that reason, a holiday to honor Malcolm seems more timely than ever before.
In trying to find a way to solve the Malcolm X holiday issue for my son, my thoughts raced. When we got home from that inspiring day at BAM, I walked to the calendar in semi-panic to see if Malcolm’s birthday would land on a weekend.
Maybe he won’t notice that it’s not a national holiday if Malcolm’s birthday lands on the weekend!
But what if it lands on a weekday?
Then what?
Will you take the day off to celebrate?
But he will still know it wasn’t a national celebration because his friends will ask where he was once he returned to school.
Womp!
What are you going to do??
The truth is, I really didn’t want to tell him there was no holiday. I didn’t want him to equate the absence of a holiday with the idea that Malcolm’s legacy was somehow not as important as King’s. This wore on me for months until I finally decided I would have to relinquish those anxieties.
I decided that ultimately I couldn’t and shouldn’t shield him from the truth that there is not equal reverence or recognition of these two leaders. However, I also decided to clarify things by breaking down the real American view of King and the truth that the King holiday wasn’t granted without years and years of persistence against those in opposition. And that even then, it also took the American powers that be to reinvent King to a tolerable dreamer who they could stomach celebrating every year. Recognition at last, yes… and for a price. I brought sobering context to “the dream” (read my essay about that subject here). For me, this was the perfect way of leveling these two men whom I revered. One was not despised while the other was adored. They were both despised… and America created an oversimplified narrative of one which helped them not lose their shit at the thought of honoring. Two young men who, by the time they were nearing their deaths, were drawing closer to the other’s ideologies.
I had to trust that my teachings and exposures of Malcolm, and his own understanding of Malcolm as a humanitarian, a person with faith in the younger generations of all people, a gallant truth teller, and a man with extraordinary character of strength, would suffice. I decided to let Malcolm do in death as he had done so veraciously in his life – speak for himself. The lack of federal observation led me to finding all kinds of events in the city and around the country that do celebrate his legacy. And my son, on his own, asked to do something he’d never asked to do in anyone else’s honor – to visit Malcolm’s resting place. We are planning a trip to do just that for Malcolm’s anniversary next year. We will read books and we will continue to talk about Malcolm’s legacy. We even came up with the idea to write a letter to Malcolm every year.
We attended The Schomburg Center For Research In Black Culture’s annual commemoration last Friday. Poets, musicians, and dancers performed pieces inspired by Malcolm’s quest for human rights, anti-colonialism and internationalism. Poet/playwright, activist and educator Sonia Sanchez presented a brilliant and emotional stream of consciousness. It was a tremendous gift that Malcolm was honored in such a beautiful and truthful way in Harlem, the community he loved and called home for the most influential years of his life.
In an ironic twist, at the close of the celebration, New York City Mayor Bill De Blasio proclaimed May 19, 2017 Malcolm X Day. He said, “Malcolm was a true intellectual who had a vision for a better, more inclusive society where all people lived in harmony. And his powerful words have inspired people of all backgrounds and galvanized generations into action. His analysis is alive and well. Over the years [his is] a truth which has become clearer and clearer. This is why people who have such powerful ideas really don’t die.” My son witnessed this! It was a proud moment, and in some ways a bit of kismet, when I think about our walk home from BAM that January morning. I’m not lost on the fact that we have a long way to go toward federal holiday recognition, but this journey is teaching me a lot.
When Spike Lee emotionally recounted the initial financial challenges of getting Malcolm X made on an episode of Inside the Actors Studio, he said something that I had to remind myself of as a parent. “Malcolm always talked about self-reliance,” he said. “We as black people have all the resources we need to rely on ourselves.” I ultimately understand that I have to do what Malcolm would have wanted me to do, holiday be damned: take matters into my own hands by using my ingenuity to liberate the mind of my own child. By any means necessary.
Hey, Toure… maybe this is a start!