Skip to main content

This Too, is MLK


Years ago, I was watching the scene in the movie X when Malcolm's mentor greets him by saying Assalamu alaikum, and in my head, I responded Alaikum assalaam.

WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? I asked myself. (FYI, the phrases are Arabic greetings often used by Muslims, meaning Peace be upon you and Unto you peace.)

I certainly wasn't a closeted Muslim, in fact I grew up a card-carrying-dual-faith Protestant of Baptist and Lutheran traditions. On rides to church, my family listened to WNOV -- a black-owned radio station whose regular Sunday rotation included Gospel music and sermon excerpts.

Usually in the time it took for us to get from home to church, the gospel music and sermons wound down, and gave way to programming from the Nation of Islam which always began with Assalamuu alakum and Alakum assalaam. That's all we heard. But it stuck with me.

Looking back, I'm realizing how forward-thinking it was of this radio station to make space that represented black people in all their layers and all their faiths whether Baptist, C.O.G.I.C., A.M.E. and yes, even Muslim.

Today is Martin Luther King , Jr. Day, and like every year on MLK day, I'm wincing at all the hypotheticals being thrown around "If Dr. King was here today, he'd agree with a law and order criminal justice response" or "If Dr. King was here today, he'd support stopping chain immigration" or "If Dr. King was here today, he'd respect the flag, our troops and our country" and on it goes.

Haven't heard the MLK of 2018 perverted and twisted yet? Give it a minute. I guarantee you will.

Then again maybe you won't. For sure, you'll see much of the hope that Dr. King espoused. Beautiful quotes from his I Have A Dream speech will flow freely today. In fact, our current president has already videotaped a hollow commemorative message referring to it.

Instead, I want to hear the multi-layered, human MLK today, I want to hear his commanding oration, the congregation's response when he talked about his daughter's wish to go to an amusement park and his heartbreaking, but hopeful explanation to her of why she couldn't.


Thanks to WNOV, I'd heard that sermon countless times on our way to church. I always liked it, but at the time didn't know it originated from one of his most prolific writings Letters From A Birmingham Jail.

The whole of the Letter's text parallels an MLK that probably won't be celebrated or quoted today. He speaks with spirit, love, but also exhaustion, exasperation and judgement at the country's inability to understand reasons for black people's unrest, as well as the complicity of white Americans who knew things were wrong but chose to keep silent.


This parallel MLK is the one I need to hear from and celebrate today. Like him, I'm exhausted and exasperated...but still hopeful.

So I guess the only wish, the only greeting I can give on this day is Alaikum assalaam...anyway.

Comments

  1. Earlier I watched a clip of his listening to Mahalia Jackson leading the choir in Joshua Fought the Battle of Jericho, and I was so struck by how you could see his discomfort in being thought the Joshua, in his pleasure and humility in listening to the great Jackson, and finally the seriousness with which he knew he was taking on the mantel of responsibility maybe only he and a few others in the movement realized would take down not just the wall but this man.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. ... and so amazing that he waa just a kid. He lived a lifetime in those short years.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What 6 Christmas Songs Got Wrong

After Thanksgiving, a birthday party last week, another birthday party this week and Christmas coming up next week, I am officially overwhelmed. It'd take more time than I have to explain what yet needs to be done and if you're like me, you're probably overwhelmed and don't have the time nor inclination to read it all anyway. But even with an overflowing plate, I still love the Christmas season -- from setting up the Christmas tree that we got two weeks ago and decorated only yesterday, to lighting bayberry scented candles, to every Rankin & Bass Christmas Special, and the music. Oh, the music. Songs have a way of putting you in the Christmas spirit, warming your heart and next thing you know, you're hugging a stranger in the elevator. Okay, um...maybe that's just me. But alas, all songs are not created equal; and the following Christmas songs inspire and awaken anything but peace on earth and goodwill to men. 1. Christmas Shoes : This song makes my

Racism & Prejudice: Brothas from a Different Mother

Next week I’m attending  a seminar on defining racism. Should be interesting because: 1) I’ve been living in the skin I’m in for nearly 43 years and I’d like to hear about any advancements on the topic; and 2) back in college, some class I took defined racism as movement, advancement or otherwise being prevented and/or restricted based upon race .  Embedded in the definition was that racism took two parties – someone in power (the racist) and someone whose rights were being violated. So according to that definition, racism is an action , not an attitude . One is a disabling trespass while the other is prejudice . I tend to agree. It’s my belief that Martin Luther King and the thousands of civil rights fighters stood up against racism . They stood up against actions that prevented people from the pursuit of happiness – whether that meant voting, drinking from a common bubbler, or not ending up as Strange Fruit on a Poplar tree when all they wanted to do was get from P

The Moments That Are Given

Mom! It’s graffiti! It’s art... on a shoe ! I have to try it on. Please...can I? It was my 12 year old’s first foray into heels. A big moment in our little lives. Working full-time when she was an infant had stolen other big-little moments from my camera’s eye -- the first time she rolled over, the first time she sat up unassisted...the first firsts. Newly, gladly and willfully unemployed for the first time in 15 years, I took a picture. The picture wasn’t as much of an attempt to catch up on lost firsts, but rather a net to capture a butterfly’s moment of the moment; because if history skips a generation and the math holds out, there are more years behind me than ahead. My mom died at 63. Her mom died at 47. I’m 46. I’ve checked all over my person for a stamped expiration date, from the flabby inside parts of my arms, to the backs of my knees and other parts of my anatomy that shall remain nameless here.  There is no such date. Yet, there is a possibil