Marcus Garvey's Journey

"Up, you mighty race, accomplish what you will"(Marcus Garvey). Marcus Garvey didn't believe in integration. The dreams of integration will never be achieved. The whites will always believe that they're the superior race. He, along with my father, and eventually myself, enraptured ourselves with the thoughts of separatists. My parents and family made due with what we had but it all came to an end. I was put through pains in my childhood that no adolescent should ever have to see. I heard things, got called things, and experienced things I never should have. All before my 16th birthday. My traumatic experiences as a child, combined with the roots my parents planted in me developed into the backbone of my speeches, writings, and beliefs.
I go
by the name of Malcolm X. One could say I had an - interesting - childhood. I was born on May the 19th, 1925 in Omaha, Nebraska; I was the seventh of 11 children in my family (Britannica). My sisters went by the names: Ella, Mary, and Hilda. My brother had the names: Earl, Wilfred, Philbert, and Reginald (The Autobiography). It probably doesn't strike you as a racist city, but Omaha was death trap for my family. There was a large population of Klu Klux Klan members. Combine those members with my fathers, Earl Little, belief in Marcus Garveys black nationalist movement, Back to Africa and it made for a terrible situation. The Klan members threatened my family and at one time even shattered the windows of our house (The Autobiography). Believe it or not, my real name isn't actually Malcolm X, it's Malcolm Little. I changed it along the way but I'll get to that later. Anyway, shortly after my birth, we had to relocate to Lansing, Michigan because of the KKK threats towards my family. (Encyclopedia World)
In Lansing, my father built our house by hand.
It was never to hard for me or my family to move around because we were constantly moving. My father was a very opinionated man and some of his beliefs are deeply rooted within me. He was an avid preacher of Marcus Garveys black nationalist movement. Mr. Garvey called it the Back to Africa movement. Garvey called for African Americans to return to there home of Africa and completely separate from the whites. Because of his beliefs in Mr. Garveys movement, my father was not well received by the local whites. Our family had multiple threats and eventually, they burned the house my father built back to the cold, American soil. Devils. How could they just burn down my house? Our house? This watered the roots that my father laid within me. When I was just 6 years old, my brothers and I returned from school only to find Earl and Louise arguing about dinner. My father wanted rabbit, but eating rabbit, or pork for that matter, was against my mothers beliefs. Earl stormed out of the house as my mother tried to stop him. She told us later she had a vision of his impending
end.
The next morning we were woke up with the Lansing police in or living room. Our father never came back that night and our mothers vision was true, he was found nearly cut into two on the railroad tracks. If the house burning down watered the seeds, this was the fertilizer. Everyone knew it was the group of whites, called Black Legion, who had got him. It was the gasoline on my fire of hatred for the whites. Us children were shocked by his death, but if we were shocked, our mother was hysterical. Not only had she lost her husband but just days after, the call came that my fathers life insurance provider, wouldn't give our family the return from his life insurance. They sited their reason as his death being a suicide. How one bashes himself in the head then lays himself on the railroad tracks, without the intent of ending his life is a question they never answered.
Shortly thereafter the state people came to our home to question our mother. Her pride and psychiatric health had really taken a toll since my fathers death. She had been making purchases on credit, which my father never believed in. His thought was that it would eventually lead us back into slavery. She began to cry more and stopped hiding her seemingly constant sadness. Once these state men showed up, she got even worse. These white men decided our family deserved two checks, one welfare, and one widows pension. They helped but it still wasn't enough. Normally the first check, if not more was owed to the grocery store; the second check never lasted long after. We all worked small jobs here and there; working in bakeries, stores, cleaning, anyway we could earn a nickel. But the white state men continued to come into our home and eventually, split up our family. My mother was put into a mental institution and I bounced around from foster home to boarding school. Eventually, I got told, by a white, instead of following my dreams to become a lawyer, I would only be able to get a job as a carpenter. I dropped out after that. The days following my fathers death were a struggle in many ways but the lessons I learned helped shape who I would become. (The Autobiography)
The work ethic my brothers, sisters, and I developed in the days after Earls death carried over to the next chapter of my life.
I gave up the opportunity of continuing my education and living with my family to go live with my half-sister, Ella, in Boston, Massachusetts. She lived in the Harlem-esque neighborhood of Boston. I worked small little jobs in Boston. Shining shoes, waiting on tables, working on railroad cars, bus boy, anything to earn some dollars. The jobs never lasted long and eventually I got involved in gambling. The gambling led to the drug trade business and that led to drug addictions, theft and a life of crime. I actually organized a burglary ring, but it got busted. 10 years. The next 10 years of my life in a prison cell. These next years would prove to be the beginning of the end for me. (Encyclopedia
World)
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