Being his own man was the critical precedent Muhammad Ali set for 21st-Century men.
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As a child of the 1960s, I identified as a Black person. Everything that I knew that was associated with the word black represented power to me: The Black Panthers and the expression “Black Power,” as examples. It was a direct confrontation to the opinion of other ethnic groups in regards to their understanding of the words “Black people.”
Watching Muhammad Ali’s boxing matches was a rite of passage of sorts for me because I lived in a world where nonviolent sit-ins, bombings, looting, lynching, and assassinations had become the norm. I saw this caramel-colored Black man on television defying the boundaries that racism had built around him, and I began to hope for better days for me and a better future for little boys who looked like him.
I saw this caramel-colored Black man on television defying the boundaries that racism had built around him, and I began to hope for better days for me and a better future for little boys who looked like him.
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As a young woman coming of age in the 1970s, I had a different perspective. I joined the military at the tender age of 17—I’ve always had a devout love for God and country. When Ali made the choice to not serve his country during the Vietnam War, I was torn. I had an uncle in a similar situation who made the choice to avoid the draft and moved to Canada to escape persecution.
I was keenly aware of the racial climate at the time; I saw my first Ku Klux Klan meeting in Dothan, Alabama in 1976 while I was wearing my Army uniform. This drove the reality of racism deeper into my heart. Innocence shattered, I simply moved on because I had to, simultaneously fighting the internal war that so many people of color fight in America.
When Ali made his decision, it forced me to evaluate the possibility that patriotism and racism could not coexist and still serve the greater good for Blacks in America.
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I heard two internal voices when Ali made his decision, “Why would he choose to dodge the Draft?” and “What greater good was served in him making that decision?” Frankly, I was embarrassed because Ali looked like me and I felt that Black people had enough problems in America. At that time, I believed that patriotism and racism could coexist. I was wrong. When Ali made his decision, it forced me to evaluate the possibility that patriotism and racism could not coexist and still serve the greater good for Blacks in America.
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I began to study Ali and I came to the conclusion that it took courage for him to make his choice. That same uncommon courage fueled the Civil Rights movement and made men like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. take risks in order to make this country to a better place for all its citizens. Ali made a choice not to serve his country, just like I made a choice to serve my country. He knew at an early age what his calling was and as a result of his stativity, he became a world-class icon whose influence crossed racial and geographical lines.
That same uncommon courage fueled the Civil Rights movement and made men like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. take risks in order to make this country a better place for all its citizens.
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Cassius Marcellus Clay grew up in a time when it was very uncharacteristic of Blacks to be fearless. His arrogance garnered him the moniker of “That Little Smart Aleck” from his very first trainer, Joe Martin. Even at twelve, Cassius dreamed dreams beyond his years and the perceived limitations of his ethnic background. In his youth, he wanted to be a boxing champion of the whole wide world and drive a Cadillac. He also wanted to be rich and queried his father about the alleged improbability of it all at a young age.
He trained hard and fought hard. Then trained some more and fought some more, until he’d achieved the highest honor for an athlete, an Olympic Gold Medal for boxing in 1960.
In 1964, Clay declared himself a member of the Nation of Islam and became a Black Muslim, changing his name to Muhammad Ali. It was his answer to the racial chaos that surrounded him.
Even in his later years, as he was battling Parkinson’s, Ali maintained a voracious spirit for living life to its fullest with dignity. We saw that at the 2002 Olympics when he carried the torch. Clay never saw the glass half empty; it was always half full to him.
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I never got to meet the man but reflecting on the persona of this man of steel, my Superman, I’ve come to the following conclusions…
- Muhammad Ali was a dreamer because he saw things that were inconceivable for most men and he never let the limited resourcefulness of others stop him from pursuing his dreams.
- Muhammad Ali was resilient because even when things did not go the way of his prophetic utterance, he bounced back with a bigger and better plan.
- Muhammad Ali loved being a father. He embraced the role with the same vigor and commitment he lent to everything in his life and his children seemed to love him for it.
- Muhammad Ali was a nonconformist because he stood up for what he thought was right at a time when it could have cost him his life.
- Muhammad Ali was a willing role model because he let the world know you can do anything if you put your mind to it. His shining example liberated his daughter, Laila, to choose boxing as a career.
- Muhammad Ali was a superhero because he was, “Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound,” when other men only imagined doing these things.
- Muhammad Ali was set a precedent for today’s modern man. He drew outside of the lines, changed the world as we know it with his bravery, and we are better for it. He will be missed.
My hope lies in the legacy that he has left for the renaissance men who will come behind him to carry the torch for the next generation. Muhammad Ali was his own man. He was an excellent example that being your own man is critical to fulfilling your purpose in the twenty-first century.
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Photo credit: Flickr/Cliff