I didn’t take any notes on chapters 7 and 8 so I must have considered them stories with nothing too important that I could apply as a teaching. At this point in the book Malcolm went to jail on burglary and received a sentence of 10 years instead of the usual 2 years Malcolm saw other inmates receive. Malcolm says it had to do with him having white girls as partners in crime.
It was in jail when he first learned about the religion of Islam and that’s when his life started changing for the better.
In chapter 10 the following note caught my attention:
… your number in prison became part of you. You never heard your name, only your number. On all of your clothing, every item, was your number, stenciled. It grew stenciled on your brain.
I’ve never been to jail, but this reminded me of when I used to be in boarding school. How everything piece of clothing had to be marked with a number. Although I was only in a boarding school for about three months before I got my chance to move back to the city, I still remember that number from thirteen years ago: 133. The same way I still remember my social security number from Panama and the U.S. and my driver’s license number. Is that what we’ve become? A number? I see the importance of having one; it would be almost impossible to differentiate millions of people without giving each one a unique identifier. It is also important that we not forget we are still humans with personalities that can’t be defined by a number or any other sort of generalized classification.
I like what Will says starting on 4:43 when Charlie asked Will how he decided to do the roll of Muhammad Ali. Will says he had doubts at first because he couldn’t see the road from doing the T.V. show “Fresh Prince of Belair” to becoming a legendary and world renowned boxing champion on the big screen. That was until he was given the blueprint, or the step-by-step guide to how he was going to reach that goal.
Having a plan is very important. To me, there’s nothing great about going from point A to point B if you can’t do it again and again. If that happens, it means there’s a great amount of luck involved, and how many times can one person get lucky?
I’ve been thinking about the “wall” metaphor Will uses to answer the question on 22:25. He says his parents thought him not to build a wall, but instead to concentrate on laying out one brick at a time the best way possible. Soon enough there will be a wall. I learned about concentrating on the small picture a while ago, but I still think it’s important to know where I’m going. I like to dream first and then lay the first brick. I feel that without well-thought goals there might be a problem later on in terms of self-motivation. Suddenly we lose interest in something or we just stop because we don’t know how far we actually want to go. My problem, as I see it right now, is getting into the habit of following my plan without interruptions. I’m always working, but I’m always dreaming too. It’s hard for me to continue working on something all the way to the end because I get excited about new ideas and I can’t wait to start working on those too.
Right now, for example, I’m reading the scriptures of John from The Bible, Malcolm X, Pablo Neruda Poems, I’m working on the design of antoniobullen.com, I write poetry and music, I am trying to market geecho.com and I write about all these things. I want to do every single one of them and I also have the responsibility of going to my classes and soon I will be working again. I do spend most of my days on my music so that’s a good thing.
To me dreaming is important because that’s how I have set the standards to be not just number one, but also the first to do something never done before.
Will says something really good around 30:04 when he says that he hates the feeling of fearing something. The fear to pitch an idea or meeting with someone for the first time; and that he didn’t want to even take that meeting because of that fear. So he developed an attitude of attacking things that he was scared of. I admire him for that and I wish I had that at my age. I realize that’s a problem in my life and I’m working on it. In my case I feel like I will only attack things when there is no other route to take. In Spanish there is a phrase: “entre la espada y la pared,” it translates to “between the sword and the wall,” and that’s when I usually start pushing back.
In chapter 6 Malcolm writes about his first brushes with street hustlers. I would say that this world, as much as it was a learning experience, it also was his downfall. He started as a bartender where people of all hustles used to meet and soon he became one. Here are some things I highlighted:
They [white women] knew that the black man had all the strikes against him, that the white man kept the black man down, under his heel, unable to get anywhere, really. The white woman wanted to be comfortable, she wanted to be looked upon with favor by her own kind, but also she wanted to have her pleasure. So some of them just married a white man for convenience and security, and kept right on going with a Negro.
I’m not into the paragraph as I was when I first highlighted it, but it’s just as true today. I’m not talking about the white man oppressing the black man, but about women looking for security. People in their right mind usually don’t marry or date sick people the same way women would prefer a man with certain securities, mainly money because its liquidity can give them homes, food and if there’s enough then worry-free spending. I know some women say this is not true, that what they really want is love and affection but if they had an option between love or money plus love… tell me then money doesn’t play a role. I would like to add that love is that one variable that when applied to anything, it can change everything.
Malcolm X">…in order to get something you had to look as though you already had something.
So true. Act the part and you’ll get the part.
So many of those so-called “upper class” Negroes are so busy trying to impress on the white man that they are “different from those others” that they can’t see they are only helping the white man to keep his low opinion of all Negroes.
It’s all about unity, it makes no sense for someone to respect me if I can’t respect myself. So if I’m a black man and I demand from others not to call me a nigger, but at the same time I call other black people niggers and bitches, what does that lead to? It leads to confusion from those that want to respect us and a good laugh from those who refuse to respect.
However, if black people are going to use the word nigger and say it doesn’t mean anything offensive, then fine but we have to be sure of that. I like to use Bob Marley’s phrase “emancipation from mental slavery,” which would mean black people have complete disregard for what other races might think about us using the word nigger and we use it because we want to use it. But I know this is not the case. If it was, then black people wouldn’t care if someone outside the race used the word nigger. And like I said before, it has to be a united decision, or at least the majority of blacks must agree. I think we also know that’s not the case or there wouldn’t be so much controversy over the word.
I’m still reading “The Autobiography of Malcolm X.” I haven’t been writing because I wanted to finish reading and then get to writing, but in my readings today I came across a statement Malcolm made that got me thinking about the true nature of men and women. This is what it says:
…being that the true nature of man is to be strong, and a woman’s true nature is to be weak, and while a man must at all times respect his woman, at the same time he needs to understand that he must control her if he expects to get her respect.
I disagree with the first part of that statement. I don’t think being weak or strong has much to do with the sexes. I think it has to do with the personality of the individual. To say that this is the true nature is generalizing a bit too much. I do think that a stronger woman might prefer to have a stronger man and that has to do with a feeling of protection. Not because a woman can’t protect herself, but because she’d rather have a man that can protect her better than she can.
As for the second part, well… every person must respect and control others who try to disrespect. When a person is disrespected and fails to control the offender, things start slipping eternally out of control. It doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman. Of course I will put my girlfriend in place if she disrespects, and I expect her to do the same to me. I don’t want someone I can control, I want someone I consider my equal and I can respect as such.
Comparing one’s self/kind to others and feeling superior is not hard. Being strong enough to compare and praise others for their good qualities while still being able to maintain a good self esteem is what I consider dignifying.
Last week on my Intercultural Communication class I had the pleasure of meeting an artist by the name of Raúl Espinoza, one of the original mural painters of the Chicano Park in San Diego, CA. He was in class primarily to talk about his work at the Chicano Park, but he also touched on his art in general.
He said some things that immediately triggered some thoughts and I wrote them down in my notebook. It was about how the Chicano Park came to be: it all started in the 1960’s after the construction of the Coronado Bay Bridge, amongst other projects, right in the middle of Barrio Logan, which in those days was one of the largest Mexican-American communities in the west coast.
The problem with the construction of the Coronado bridge was that the residents of Barrio Logan thought the changes to be inevitable. They were not told they could express their opinions at City Council and perhaps avoid the constructions that were taking place in their community, as other residential neighborhoods had successfully done. Now bridge pylons pierced part of their land and many families were forced to leave their homes. Over the next few years, community leaders organized and demanded to the city of San Diego the designation of a park where the pylons stand.
This story reminded me of what Malcolm X was saying about minorities and poor people being drafted to fight the war in Vietnam while others enjoyed the privilege of staying home right here in the U.S. if they were in college, or some other legal excuse. But I just found some statistics that say that the percentage of men that died that were Black is 12.5% compared to 86% Caucasian. I went to another website and it gives the same statistics, however, it also says, black men were ordered to fight at front lines and it wasn’t until 1966 that Army and Marine commanders worked to lessen black casualties. What’s the truth?
What I’m saying is that this world is not sweet peaches. Say nothing and watch the sole of others stomping all over your face. Just got to know the right time to react and do it with style and grace.
Chapter 5 is titled “Harlemite.” In it Malcolm talks about his first chance to experience Harlem while he was working as a sandwich salesman for a railroad company.
Malcolm explains how Harlem became predominantly Black, as it was first a Dutch settlement and when Germans started moving in the Dutch started leaving. The Irish then came in, running from the potato famine, and the Germans left because they looked down on the Irish. The same thing happened between the Irish and the Italians; then the Jews; and finally the Negroes.
As Malcolm explains, in 1910, a Negro real estate man got two Negro families into one Jewish Harlem apartment house. When the Jews found out, they flew from the house and more Negroes moved into it, completely filling the house. Jews flew from that block and more Negroes moved in. Evidently Jews continued to move away from houses and blocks close to Negroes and more Negroes would move in until Harlem became mostly Black.
This is how Malcolm says the story goes… I don’t know anything about it except for what I have now read, but it’s very possible. At the end, everybody got what they wanted.
I don’t have much to say about chapter 4. Malcolm X talks about his first experiences with girls. We all go through that at some point in our lives. That’s when we learn certain things like:
“Never ask a woman about other men. Either she’ll tell you a lie, and you still won’t know, or if she tells you the truth, you might not have wanted to hear it in the first place.”
I’ve made that mistake. All I got was feelings of jealousy, but I learned quick though. Did it once and never again. There’s no point and the same goes with women asking men. Just don’t ask! Let the pages be written from the time two people meet going forward. Leave the extra baggage behind or the relationship will be doomed from the beginning. Unfortunately I’ve been there.
The third chapter is mostly about Malcolm’s introduction to the big city life. Before that he was living in the country. He describes his first impressions about Boston, how people dressed and talked, his new job and overall experiences.
There were many similarities when I first came to the U.S.. I think it’s what happens when people make drastic changes to their way of life and we can either adapt to our new surroundings or create sort of like a frame to keep us “safe” from the possibilities of the unknown. Personally, I think we all ought to explore the unknown and not be so afraid of rejection or the what-could-happen, all we have to do is make calculated moves.
I’m also talking about temporary changes like when we travel to another country. If I have the time when I travel, I like to mingle with the local people. Try to get a real perspective of life in that country. Locals are almost always friendly, especially when they know a person is not from there. But I also understand why somebody would want to travel to another country and do absolutely nothing. I think the important thing is in keeping a balance.
The next quote is from Malcolm X talking about “white-wigged black woman”, but I think it’s true about a lot of people regardless of sex:
“If they gave the brains in their heads just half as much attention as they do their hair, they would be a thousand times better off.”
I am now on the third chapter of The Autobiography of Malcolm X. The second chapter came as a shock to me. I wasn’t expecting Malcolm X to talk nicely about any white person, but he does. I like that because it makes the story believable. I wouldn’t have believed it if he said all white people are racist. Whenever I get just one side of a story I always wonder what happened to the other side.
Here is something Malcolm X said that I think is very true about a lot of white people’s demeanor:
“It has historically been the case with white people, in their regard for black people, that even though we might be with them, we weren’t considered of them. Even though they appeared to have opened the door, it was still closed. Thus they never did really see me.”
In other words, a black person no matter what is still looked as a black person. And the number one cause of this is our emphasis in color. As if a person’s color automatically speaks for the character of the person. But it is something that happens all the time and will probably continue to happen for a while. That’s why I say “fuck it.” When I try so hard to be a part of something just to be told that I am a “nappy headed FSR (Financial Services Representative)” and constantly made aware that the color of my skin makes me somehow so different from the rest, I have to stop trying to be a part of that group, because as long as the views of those I’m trying be a part of don’t change I will never be one of them. Instead, I have to be myself and forget what others think. In the words of Malcolm X:
“I didn’t really have much feeling about being a Negro, because I was trying so hard, in every way I could, to be white. Which is why I am spending much of my life today telling the American black man that he’s wasting time straining to “integrate.” I know from personal experience. I tried hard enough.”
I just finished reading the first chapter of the Autobiography of Malcolm X. After watching Lupe Fiasco talk about Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, I decided that it was important for me to know more about Black history in America.
I can see how Malcolm X became the man that he did. With so many of his family members dying on the hands of white men by the cause of race, I think most people would feel the same way but few might be able to express it. In understanding Malcolm’s past I’m also coming to understand a little better why I am the way I am today: my mother’s constant criticism and complaining, both of my parents strict ruling which sometimes turned physical and let no room for independent actions. There really is no wondering.
Malcolm X wrote he was proud he never raised his hand to his mom. I have to admit I did once, but my father was there to keep that hand from touching her and I’m greatful for that. I had to hear my mom say things about me that weren’t true all the time. She would make up stories in her mind about how I was stealing money from her, that I was good for nothing, call me a “piece of shit”, plant shit on my dad’s ear so he would get angrier at me than what he usually was and when things got physical between my dad and I, my mom was right behind my dad cheering for him because I “needed to be thought a lesson.”
I’m not saying I was an angel, but I didn’t deserve what I got. Nobody does. I grew up without affection, hugs and kisses. When I came to live in the U.S. and spent more time around other families and saw how sisters, brothers and parents hugged and told each other how much they loved them I was puzzled. I couldn’t understand why they were doing it, especially so often. My mother had never told me that she loved me except once and she did it on a piece of paper written in French - “Je T’aime” - and I could count with one hand the number of times I made physical contact with my parents any given year, and I’m talking the touch of a hand or something not hugs or anything deep.
I am a much better person today. I know how to talk to people and be social, even though I do it in an academic sort of way. I know when to smile, when to listen, what to say and what not to only because I think about it while I’m doing it and I know what it usually instigates on the other person, not because it comes natural. I can look at people face to face and I have no problems hugging or being close to someone else. And after taking so much shit talking from my mom I’ve developed a barrier against words. They don’t move me, but I’m learning that this could be as bad as it is good. People tend to abuse, let themselves go and try to step over if I don’t say something back on time. I refuse to let anyone call me a “nappy headed FSR (Financial Services Representative)” and do nothing. I will not turn the other cheek nor will I act out of anger.
Acting out of constant anger is where I think Malcolm X went wrong. I think it keeps us sometimes from making smart decisions. But I will continue reading the book before I make final statements. All I know is that I don’t want to be a part of a circle of constant battles. I will step in it if I have to though just to get shit straight, but I want to be able to concentrate on myself. So don’t push and everything will be OK. Show love.
New York Times Book Review, Robert Boone: It behooves us to read, and even reread Malcolm's book, and especially the last five chapaters, which describe the transformation that took place in his mind and heart after his break with Elijah Muhammad and the Black Muslims.
This is an interesting video on Lupe Fiasco talking about racism. I like to think that everything is possible so I wouldn’t say racism is always going to exist. The possibilities are slim, but let’s say that all human beings are faced with an attack by aliens from another planet, then I think we will see how quickly racism disappears even if it is just for a day. It’s kind of what happened after the terrorist attack in the U.S. on 9/11, everybody was feeling more American than anything else. Although unfortunately some people started looking at anybody resembling Middle Eastern features as a terrorist.
I don’t know much about Martin Luther King and Malcolm X so I’ll start reading up on them soon. And yes, I won’t live a lie either. I won’t be that guy that doesn’t take action if I have to. As for the word “nigga”, I personally don’t use it because I don’t understand it but maybe some day I will.
Last week on my Intercultural Communication class I had the pleasure of meeting an artist by the name of Raúl Espinoza, one of the original 
