This Black Man Doesn't Die

He lives on, he lives on because he has sparked in us- the activist sort- a flame so full of fury and passion for justice and the virtue of a moral driven life- that one can not imagine the burden he carried which is now carried by thousands.

He was one, now is many. He was a man, now he is man, women and child. He was black, now he is white, yellow, red and all hues of humanity. He was a slave, and those who submit to no one have no fear. He was a martyr and in his martyrdom we learn the redemptive value of faith and how one can develop and be elevated when one sticks to their faith.

He was poor and yet so rich. He was denied an education, and yet he did not allow it to be his prison. He lived the worst of America to see that it lived a future that was best for it. He wanted to tear America apart, and yet, he realized through self growth and faith that there is more to an idea then what we experience.

"I realized racism isn't just a black and white problem. It's brought bloodbaths to about every nation on earth at one time or another. Brother, remember the time that white college girl came into the restaurant — the one who wanted to help the [Black] Muslims and the whites get together — and I told her there wasn't a ghost of a chance and she went away crying? Well, I've lived to regret that incident. In many parts of the African continent I saw white students helping black people. Something like this kills a lot of argument. I did many things as a [Black] Muslim that I'm sorry for now. I was a zombie then — like all [Black] Muslims — I was hypnotized, pointed in a certain direction and told to march. Well, I guess a man's entitled to make a fool of himself if he's ready to pay the cost. It cost me 12 years. That was a bad scene, brother. The sickness and madness of those days — I'm glad to be free of them."

If he were alive today, he would be a ripe age of 83. He, however, was murdered on February 21, 1965.