“My father was a big, six-foot-four, very black man. He had only one eye. How he had lost the other one I have never known. He was from Reynolds, Georgia, where he had left school after the third, or maybe fourth grade. He believed, as did Marcus Gravey, that freedom, independence and self-respect could never be achieved by the Negro in America, and that therefore the Negro should leave America to the white man and return to his African land of origin. Among the reasons my father has decided to risk and dedicate his life to help disseminate this philosophy among his people was that he had seen four of his six brothers die by violence, three of them killed by white men, including one by lynching. What my father could not know then was that of the reamining three, including himself, only one, my uncle Jim, would die in bed, of natural causes. Northern white police were later to shoot my Uncle Oscar. And my father was finially himself to die by the white man’s hands.

It has always been my belief that I, too, will die by violence. I have done all that I can do to be prapared.”

Dall’autobiografia di Malcom X. Seconda pagina.

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