Every year on February 21st, both mentally and geographically, I drift away to distant places. From morning till evening, my day almost entirely revolves around one person. I think of that young man who eagerly took the stage on February 21, 1965, at the Audubon Ballroom Conference Hall in Harlem, New York, ready to deliver a passionate speech as usual. And his wife, just 29 years old at the time, who despite all her fears, sat in the front row with their four daughters, ready to listen to her husband whom she wholeheartedly supported in his struggle... However, that speech would never begin; within minutes, three assailants who stormed the stage would fatally shoot the orator in front of about 400 people. What followed would become the leading headline of television news bulletins and newspaper front pages worldwide: "Renowned American human rights activist Malcolm X assassinated in New York. Suspects..." The rest is insignificant, as with the first sentence, history had already been written and the chapter closed.
I can't recall the first time I heard Malcolm X's name because he was a personality constantly mentioned in the atmosphere I grew up in. It was as if we all knew him for years, as if he was someone we were close to, someone we could call "brother" or "uncle." We felt so close to him. Despite our many differences, he was a voice and a breath that enveloped us from thousands of kilometers away. It was as if he had spoken for us, shouted and raged for us, delivered speeches for us, and finally sacrificed himself for us.
When he walked towards martyrdom, Malcolm was only 39 years old. He had parted ways with the deviant and racist sect called "Nation of Islam" with a great struggle, honored himself with Islam, purified his mind and heart from all forms of racism by performing Hajj, and eventually walked towards his Lord as a pure Muslim. The meeting he had with the late Saudi Arabian King Faisal in Jeddah during Hajj seems symbolic to me in every aspect. A year after the photograph they took together while chatting side by side, Malcolm would become a target of bullets, and 11 years later, so would Faisal. In two different continents and far apart from each other, yet as soldiers of the same cause...
If Malcolm had lived a long life, say until the 2000s, what kind of path would he have taken? When I think about how many idealistic individuals who roamed the heights of idealism in their youth ended up in various places as the years went by, I can't help but wonder about this question regarding Malcolm as well. Then, a voice inside me says this: Despite being left alone, he wouldn't have changed, and he wouldn't have deviated from his path.
So, what is the impact of Malcolm's young age at the time of his assassination on why he is so loved in the Islamic world? In my opinion, it's significant. Divine destiny brings some names to meet their fate at the freshest age, thus ensuring they remain in the memories of Muslims as bright stars, free from any kind of debate, controversy, or tarnish...
Every February 21st, I close my eyes and embark on a memory journey across the Islamic world. I encounter Mehmed Hanciç in Bosnia, see Hasan al-Banna in Egypt, smile at Imam Abdullah Harun from South Africa, and exchange greetings with Umar ibn Abdulaziz in a quiet town in Syria... These names born out of completely different circumstances and climates share a commonality: they all departed from this world at a very young age. Mehmed Hanciç, who raised Alija Izetbegoviç, was 37 years old; Hasan al-Banna was 42; Imam Abdullah Harun was 45, and Umar ibn Abdulaziz was 39 when they bid farewell to this world.
There is a general presumption that historical figures lived very long lives. However, the opposite is true. Not only the aforementioned personalities but rather, the majority of our heroes have had much shorter lives than we think. By focusing on the multitude of years lived, we divert our attention away from the goal of sincerity and striving...
On the 59th anniversary of his martyrdom, I remember Malcolm X and all our predecessors with mercy and gratitude.
