In celebration of Malcolm X’s life, GIANT magazine caught up with his elusive grandson, Malcolm Shabazz. I had the opportunity of meeting Shabazz and I can attest to what he himself will openly admit, that being he is a young man looking for his way in a very unfamiliar world. He shared a lot of these sentiments with me that are echoed in this article. I hope he pulls it together, he has a great spirit.

via NewsOne
INTRODUCTION
His grandmother, Betty Shabazz, widow of Malcolm X, was killed in a fire he started 11 years ago. He was 12 years old. He had been shuttled in and out of correctional institutions until his release from Attica Prison in February 2007. Now MALCOLM SHABAZZ, 24, is on a mission: to clear his name, stay out of jail and rise from the ashes of his past.
During the course of a long-standing exclusive correspondence with Aliya S. King for NewsOne and GIANT magazine, Malcolm spoke candidly and introspectively about a checkered childhood, an unstable family life, and the burden of being the sole male heir to an icon whose life and legacy have transformed millions of lives.
The following are woven excerpts from hours of conversation with Shabazz:
People often describe me as troubled. I’m not going to say that I’m not. But I’m not crazy. I have troubles. A lot of us do. But you need to understand where I’m coming from and why I am the way I am. Considering what I’ve been through, it’s a miracle that I’ve been able to hold it together. I’m just trying to find my way. [I’ve read newspaper stories about me that] say, “Experts testify [that boy] is psychotic.” The way they describe me is wrong — bi-polar, depression, pyro, whatever. I know I’m not at all. Some of the things I’ve been through, the average person would have cracked.
All my life, I’ve had [moments where] I’ve lived in the lap of luxury in the Trump Towers and not wanted for a single thing. And the very next day I’m [living in] a slum in a gang-infested Philly neighborhood, eating fried dough three times a day. One minute, I’m in a situation with structure and discipline. The next minute I’m running the streets with no supervision at all. One of my aunts has a friend who is very devoted to his children. I was hanging out with them one day and all he talked about was [their] schedule and sports and taking his kids here and there. I wish I had that. I wish I had someone whose purpose in life was to take care of me. That’s how white people do it. They plan for [their] kids. We don’t. That’s cause we don’t plan our kids. I wasn’t planned. Continue reading →