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Growing Up X
February 21, 1965–Malcolm X is assassinated in Harlem’s Audubon ballroom, becoming even more inspiring a figure in death than he has been in life.
June 23, 1997–After surviving for a remarkable twenty-two days, his widow, Betty Shabazz, dies of burns suffered in a fire set by her own grandson.
In the years between, their six daughters reach adulthood, forged by the memory of their parents’ love, the meaning of their cause, and the power of their faith. Now, at long last, one of them has recorded that touching and tumultuous journey in an unforgettable memoir, Growing Up X .
Born in 1962, Ilyasah was the middle Shabazz child, a rambunctious live-wire and self-described “Mommy’s girl” who fought for–and won–attention in an all-female household, a warm place as full of fun as learning, chaos, and love. From the first days after her father’s death left the family famous (and homeless) to the years of private schools and personal bodyguards . . . from studying the Muslim faith to understanding the mystery of boys . . . from coming to terms with her father’s murder to the shock of her mother’s passing, Ilyasah’s life is one of stunning deprived and privileged, unique and endearingly normal.
Here is a girl carrying on the legacy of a renowned father and indomitable mother while navigating childhood and, along the way, learning to do the Hustle. Here is a child who was a different color from other kids at camp and then, years later, a young woman not radical enough for her college classmates. Above all else, here is a tribute to a mother of almost unimaginable forbearance, a woman who “from that day at the Audubon when she heard the shots and threw her body on our own, [never] stopped shielding her children.”
Written with great warmth and simplicity–and featuring reminiscences of famous friends, colleagues, and acquaintances like Coretta Scott King, Muhammad Ali, and Spike Lee– Growing Up X is a fascinating, first-ever look at a family many have admired from afar . . . and never seen so close.
June 23, 1997–After surviving for a remarkable twenty-two days, his widow, Betty Shabazz, dies of burns suffered in a fire set by her own grandson.
In the years between, their six daughters reach adulthood, forged by the memory of their parents’ love, the meaning of their cause, and the power of their faith. Now, at long last, one of them has recorded that touching and tumultuous journey in an unforgettable memoir, Growing Up X .
Born in 1962, Ilyasah was the middle Shabazz child, a rambunctious live-wire and self-described “Mommy’s girl” who fought for–and won–attention in an all-female household, a warm place as full of fun as learning, chaos, and love. From the first days after her father’s death left the family famous (and homeless) to the years of private schools and personal bodyguards . . . from studying the Muslim faith to understanding the mystery of boys . . . from coming to terms with her father’s murder to the shock of her mother’s passing, Ilyasah’s life is one of stunning deprived and privileged, unique and endearingly normal.
Here is a girl carrying on the legacy of a renowned father and indomitable mother while navigating childhood and, along the way, learning to do the Hustle. Here is a child who was a different color from other kids at camp and then, years later, a young woman not radical enough for her college classmates. Above all else, here is a tribute to a mother of almost unimaginable forbearance, a woman who “from that day at the Audubon when she heard the shots and threw her body on our own, [never] stopped shielding her children.”
Written with great warmth and simplicity–and featuring reminiscences of famous friends, colleagues, and acquaintances like Coretta Scott King, Muhammad Ali, and Spike Lee– Growing Up X is a fascinating, first-ever look at a family many have admired from afar . . . and never seen so close.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published April 30, 2002
About the author
Ilyasah Shabazz
8 books234 followersIlyasah Shabazz, third daughter of Malcolm X, is an activist, producer, motivational speaker, and the author of the critically acclaimed Growing Up X and the picture book Malcolm Little: The Boy Who Grew Up to Become Malcolm X. She lives in Westchester County, New York.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 46 reviews
June 4, 2014
Up front, the author Shabazz states that this book is not about her father, but rather about her life growing up as his daughter. I read this book on Malcolm's birthday because I wanted to know more about the man - Malcolm the MAN, the father, lover, husband. She has some good reflections on him as a father and a husband, on his values which are really to be admired. He was indeed a great role model, and very principled. The love between Betty and Malcolm and dedication to each other is beautiful to read about. Freedom fighters, revolutionaries and men in power often are prone to indiscretions in marital life - including Mandela and Biko -- but not MalcolmX (nor Thomas Sankara for that matter)
Much of the book related what life was like for Betty Shabazz and her 6 daughters after Malcolm was murdered - and it was not easy. Many black folks did not want to be associated with Malcolm's widow and kids because of his views, the women in this family bore the brunt of this shunning. They certainly suffered for a while. There were however some black folk like Sydney Poiter that reached out and offered much comfort and support in these times.
Possibly in response to this Betty worked rather hard to provide a very priviledged education and life for her daughters, mainly growing up in white areas and attending white schools - this part surprised me to some extent, until I reflected on what it might have been like for Betty after he died.
The book shows how Ilyasah tried to find her own voice, after she realised that she did not have the natural abilities that Malcolm had - orator and leader. Also, Betty sheltered her children from the realities of America and racism for most of their growing years. It was when she went to college that she was exposed to black issues, racism and the legacy of her father
The more I read about Malcolm the more I realise that he was some kind of SPECIAL.
Much of the book related what life was like for Betty Shabazz and her 6 daughters after Malcolm was murdered - and it was not easy. Many black folks did not want to be associated with Malcolm's widow and kids because of his views, the women in this family bore the brunt of this shunning. They certainly suffered for a while. There were however some black folk like Sydney Poiter that reached out and offered much comfort and support in these times.
Possibly in response to this Betty worked rather hard to provide a very priviledged education and life for her daughters, mainly growing up in white areas and attending white schools - this part surprised me to some extent, until I reflected on what it might have been like for Betty after he died.
The book shows how Ilyasah tried to find her own voice, after she realised that she did not have the natural abilities that Malcolm had - orator and leader. Also, Betty sheltered her children from the realities of America and racism for most of their growing years. It was when she went to college that she was exposed to black issues, racism and the legacy of her father
The more I read about Malcolm the more I realise that he was some kind of SPECIAL.
July 26, 2008
Interesting, but not earth-shaking. The author is the third of Malcolm X's 6 daughters and this book is simply her feelings growing up from her father's assassination until her mother's death from a fire in her home in the 1990's.
To me, her life story didn't reveal anything unusual - she had a fairly privileged upbringing typical of African American upper-middle class families. She was, again typically, sheltered from the outside world by her mother, a very strong and determined woman. Many details are a bit sketchy and she tells almost nothing about her sisters' lives. I really didn't gain any insight from this book, but it was an OK read.
To me, her life story didn't reveal anything unusual - she had a fairly privileged upbringing typical of African American upper-middle class families. She was, again typically, sheltered from the outside world by her mother, a very strong and determined woman. Many details are a bit sketchy and she tells almost nothing about her sisters' lives. I really didn't gain any insight from this book, but it was an OK read.
October 22, 2009
I commend Ilyasah Shabazz for her courage to publish her memoirs in Growing Up X. It is clearly an act of bravery for anyone to share intimate thoughts with the world. I found it surprising that she led a rather normal, non-eventful life in Mt Vernon, New York because I, like many others, perceived her (and her sisters) as the legacy of two remarkable parents-thus making her destined to supercede their combined greatness. Naturally, this is an unfair and often cruel expectation to place on children of infamous parents and Ilyasah shared how her mother worked hard to shield and protect them from the burden of proof. She also enlightens the reader by saying she often would not to tell people of her parentage when she first met them for just those reasons.
The memoir, which is largely a tribute to her mother, chronicles Ilyasah's life from her father's death to her mother's death. She begins by mentioning the Little Family (her father's family) kept their distance in early years and how her immediate family was largely sustained by members of the local mosque, close friends, her mother's relatives, and high profile celebrities who showed her mother kindness and support in a time of need. Despite the generosities of others, it was her mother's resolve and personal sacrifices that kept the family together. She rehashes childhood memories of private school, summer camp, sisterhood bonding, and coming of age into adulthood. She speaks of her first kiss, her juvenile experiences with prejudice/racism, her loss of virginity from rape, the many career changes, and the loves of her life--one of which was an NBA player that she thought she might marry. These memories are simplistically and rather briefly written in a matter-of-factly type manner-almost like it's a series of flashbacks. The only exception is the heart-wrenching section where Ilyasah tells of her mother's battle for life after the fire set by Ilyasah's nephew, Malcolm, Quibillah's son. I felt her pain through the pages of the novel and my heart goes out to her family.
With the exception of a few events, I found Ilyasah's life to be quite ordinary and found myself wanting to learn more about the "holes" in the novel. For example, she mentions that she never had visited her father's gravesite until she was an adult in college. In fact, she did not know the gravesite's location upon arriving at the cemetery and just wandered around until she found it. I suppose I wanted to know why they never visited his grave as a family unit, even for Father's Day (considering all attempts made by her mother for a 'normal' mainstreamed life). The only explanation offered was that it would be too painful for her mother.
I found it equally extraordinary that her mother hires a home tutor to supplement their private school education ensuring they are properly and completely taught African history, Arabic, etc. but then Ilyasah admits to having to learn of her father's political ideologies, beliefs, and struggles by taking a humanities class on Malcolm X in college. It is only then that she comes to truly appreciate and comprehend his influence and effect on society. Surely since her father has his honorable place in American history, it almost seemed almost like an injustice to neglect this part of her heritage for so long. Despite what this reader thinks, I am sure Mrs. Shabazz, or "Mommy" as she is referred to throughout the book, had her reasons. I am not second-guessing her [Mrs. Shabazz:] judgment, just asking for clarification that is not readily apparent in the book. Ilyasah tries to explain by stating that her mother taught them that he [Malcolm:] was "Daddy" at home, nothing more and nothing less, which is totally justified.
I, too, was disappointed that the book concludes at Mrs. Shabazz's death because I ended up have more questions than when I started about Ilyasah and her family. I wanted to learn more about the Little family, Quibillah's FBI encounter (conspiracy to assassinate Louis Farrakhan), her sister's lives, and Malcom (the grandson). From my understanding Ilyasah is working on a second novel about her parents, perhaps my questions will be answered in the upcoming body of work
The memoir, which is largely a tribute to her mother, chronicles Ilyasah's life from her father's death to her mother's death. She begins by mentioning the Little Family (her father's family) kept their distance in early years and how her immediate family was largely sustained by members of the local mosque, close friends, her mother's relatives, and high profile celebrities who showed her mother kindness and support in a time of need. Despite the generosities of others, it was her mother's resolve and personal sacrifices that kept the family together. She rehashes childhood memories of private school, summer camp, sisterhood bonding, and coming of age into adulthood. She speaks of her first kiss, her juvenile experiences with prejudice/racism, her loss of virginity from rape, the many career changes, and the loves of her life--one of which was an NBA player that she thought she might marry. These memories are simplistically and rather briefly written in a matter-of-factly type manner-almost like it's a series of flashbacks. The only exception is the heart-wrenching section where Ilyasah tells of her mother's battle for life after the fire set by Ilyasah's nephew, Malcolm, Quibillah's son. I felt her pain through the pages of the novel and my heart goes out to her family.
With the exception of a few events, I found Ilyasah's life to be quite ordinary and found myself wanting to learn more about the "holes" in the novel. For example, she mentions that she never had visited her father's gravesite until she was an adult in college. In fact, she did not know the gravesite's location upon arriving at the cemetery and just wandered around until she found it. I suppose I wanted to know why they never visited his grave as a family unit, even for Father's Day (considering all attempts made by her mother for a 'normal' mainstreamed life). The only explanation offered was that it would be too painful for her mother.
I found it equally extraordinary that her mother hires a home tutor to supplement their private school education ensuring they are properly and completely taught African history, Arabic, etc. but then Ilyasah admits to having to learn of her father's political ideologies, beliefs, and struggles by taking a humanities class on Malcolm X in college. It is only then that she comes to truly appreciate and comprehend his influence and effect on society. Surely since her father has his honorable place in American history, it almost seemed almost like an injustice to neglect this part of her heritage for so long. Despite what this reader thinks, I am sure Mrs. Shabazz, or "Mommy" as she is referred to throughout the book, had her reasons. I am not second-guessing her [Mrs. Shabazz:] judgment, just asking for clarification that is not readily apparent in the book. Ilyasah tries to explain by stating that her mother taught them that he [Malcolm:] was "Daddy" at home, nothing more and nothing less, which is totally justified.
I, too, was disappointed that the book concludes at Mrs. Shabazz's death because I ended up have more questions than when I started about Ilyasah and her family. I wanted to learn more about the Little family, Quibillah's FBI encounter (conspiracy to assassinate Louis Farrakhan), her sister's lives, and Malcom (the grandson). From my understanding Ilyasah is working on a second novel about her parents, perhaps my questions will be answered in the upcoming body of work
August 16, 2013
This was a smidge better than your typical famous(ish)-person memoir. Usually these things read like a bunch of disjointed episodes, barely strung together, and you can see just how hard it was for the cowriter or ghostwriter to pull any remotely interesting thoughts out of the author. This was definitely still a bunch of somewhat disjointed memories, but the cowriter managed to create a bit of narrative and shape from the material. I always wonder how much of that is the cowriter's skill and how much is due to the author having enough self-awareness to understand what the narrative of their life even is.
Anyway, it was interesting to read what it was like growing up as the daughter of someone so notorious. Shabazz made it very clear that she thought the race movement had turned its back on her mother and her family, but without seeming bitter about it. It was also fascinating to read about this life that was simultaneously so isolated/sheltered, and so plugged in. On the one hand she grew up in a pretty white community in upstate New York, having a really bougie existence (summer camp gets an entire chapter of its own, as do several private schools); on the other she would mention stuff like playing at Nina Simone's house, or Sidney Poitier and his wife helping to raise money for her family, and there's a photo of her as a baby sitting on Muhammad Ali's lap.
While she speaks frankly about race, she doesn't get quite as introspective/analytical about it as I personally was looking to find in such a book. Overall she seems to have enjoyed her upbringing and seems well adjusted about her race, unususal socioeconomic position (simultaneously kinda poor and kinda privileged), etc. As she puts it, she was a girl who was really into the hustle but also loved Madonna. But then you get all these little moments here and there where you can see that things are really complex but she just doesn't feel that it's worth overthinking. For example, she mentions going to a private school in New York that didn't have a lot of black students, and how when the school had dances, she and her black girlfriends would have a separate dance downstairs with different music, and she would get black male friends from her neighborhood to come down too. And then when she transferred to a different school, those boys from her hood continue to be prom dates & whatnot for her black girlfriends from the old school, and one of the girls says that Shabazz and access to Shabazz's black male friends changed her social life in high school. All of that says so much but Shabazz just presents those details at face value and doesn't have any further commentary about what all that means from a deeper race perspective, and just moves on to the next episode. So you sort of have to glean your own analysis of those dynamics from between the lines.
Another example, she only touches very lightly on the dynamics of being a fairly bougie black girl (it sounds like her family had very little money but that her mother was always somehow able to rustle up funding for the private schools, camps, nice house, etc.) and how that positioned her in relation to poorer blacks. There's one mention of some tougher black girls from a nearby neighborhood beating up a pretty, lightskinned friend of hers, and she has one other disturbing thing happen that I won't describe, but again, she just reports events in this fairly surfacey, matter-of-fact way, then moves on without too much self-reflection.
I kept going back and forth though on whether that matter-of-factness was sometimes actually more powerful than a lot of soul-searching would have been. For example she talks about a relationship with a basketball player who cheated on her, and overall pessimism about men, and somehow the succinct, even-toned way she relays it all makes it even more poignant.
Last thought is that I also read "Growing Up King" by Dexter Scott King (son of MLK) so it was interesting to see how his experience compared with hers. They both grew up with the legend of their father hanging over them, and both seemed to have struggled with needing to be good, dutiful children versus having more off-the-beaten-track interests like hip-hop, acting/performance, music, etc.
Find it odd both books have such similar titles too - what's up with that?
--
Coming back later to add in this passage from the book that I found really amusing:
I applied for a job at Ciba Geigy, a large pharmaceutical company. It was one of my first job interviews and I thought I was handling it pretty well, until the interviewer asked, "What are some of your strengths?"
I didn't realize this was standard interview-speak and that I was supposed to say something like "I'm highly motivated" or "I love to work!" Instead I thought for a moment then said, "Well, as you know, by nature all black women are strong."
I did not get that job.
Anyway, it was interesting to read what it was like growing up as the daughter of someone so notorious. Shabazz made it very clear that she thought the race movement had turned its back on her mother and her family, but without seeming bitter about it. It was also fascinating to read about this life that was simultaneously so isolated/sheltered, and so plugged in. On the one hand she grew up in a pretty white community in upstate New York, having a really bougie existence (summer camp gets an entire chapter of its own, as do several private schools); on the other she would mention stuff like playing at Nina Simone's house, or Sidney Poitier and his wife helping to raise money for her family, and there's a photo of her as a baby sitting on Muhammad Ali's lap.
While she speaks frankly about race, she doesn't get quite as introspective/analytical about it as I personally was looking to find in such a book. Overall she seems to have enjoyed her upbringing and seems well adjusted about her race, unususal socioeconomic position (simultaneously kinda poor and kinda privileged), etc. As she puts it, she was a girl who was really into the hustle but also loved Madonna. But then you get all these little moments here and there where you can see that things are really complex but she just doesn't feel that it's worth overthinking. For example, she mentions going to a private school in New York that didn't have a lot of black students, and how when the school had dances, she and her black girlfriends would have a separate dance downstairs with different music, and she would get black male friends from her neighborhood to come down too. And then when she transferred to a different school, those boys from her hood continue to be prom dates & whatnot for her black girlfriends from the old school, and one of the girls says that Shabazz and access to Shabazz's black male friends changed her social life in high school. All of that says so much but Shabazz just presents those details at face value and doesn't have any further commentary about what all that means from a deeper race perspective, and just moves on to the next episode. So you sort of have to glean your own analysis of those dynamics from between the lines.
Another example, she only touches very lightly on the dynamics of being a fairly bougie black girl (it sounds like her family had very little money but that her mother was always somehow able to rustle up funding for the private schools, camps, nice house, etc.) and how that positioned her in relation to poorer blacks. There's one mention of some tougher black girls from a nearby neighborhood beating up a pretty, lightskinned friend of hers, and she has one other disturbing thing happen that I won't describe, but again, she just reports events in this fairly surfacey, matter-of-fact way, then moves on without too much self-reflection.
I kept going back and forth though on whether that matter-of-factness was sometimes actually more powerful than a lot of soul-searching would have been. For example she talks about a relationship with a basketball player who cheated on her, and overall pessimism about men, and somehow the succinct, even-toned way she relays it all makes it even more poignant.
Last thought is that I also read "Growing Up King" by Dexter Scott King (son of MLK) so it was interesting to see how his experience compared with hers. They both grew up with the legend of their father hanging over them, and both seemed to have struggled with needing to be good, dutiful children versus having more off-the-beaten-track interests like hip-hop, acting/performance, music, etc.
Find it odd both books have such similar titles too - what's up with that?
--
Coming back later to add in this passage from the book that I found really amusing:
I applied for a job at Ciba Geigy, a large pharmaceutical company. It was one of my first job interviews and I thought I was handling it pretty well, until the interviewer asked, "What are some of your strengths?"
I didn't realize this was standard interview-speak and that I was supposed to say something like "I'm highly motivated" or "I love to work!" Instead I thought for a moment then said, "Well, as you know, by nature all black women are strong."
I did not get that job.
August 16, 2010
eh. it was okay. i wasn't expecting what i read. it read like a hollywood film- its got sex drugs and violence. there are a few moments that i enjoyed the book: when she's talking about growing up and the way her mother brought her up to enrich her richly with education, culture, arts, etc; the way she speaks of her mother. i guess i would expect the legacy of Malcolm X to follow on in his children but she explains in the book that she is never going measure up to her father. other than all that, it was an easy/fast read.
September 14, 2011
First bio by one of Malcolm X and Betty Shabazz's daughters. A good follow up to Alex Haley's book. This deepened the respect I have for Malcolm X and made Betty Shabazz a heroine to me. He triumph over struggle is an inspiration and a worthwhile read.
July 12, 2008
I met Ilyasah Shabazz at the 2004 Essence Music Festival. She looks just like her dad! This is an excellent read that sheds light on the many sacrafices that Betty Shabazz and the kids dealt with.
April 6, 2023
I listened to the audiobook. Ilyasah Shabazz narrates it herself, and she does a great job with that. I love her voice. But I stopped listening about an hour & a half before the end. It's a memoir, and she tells about her life, but I felt like there could've been more. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I wanted more. Maybe more feeling? She recounts her life and experiences, but it seems like nothing really moves her or touches her. There's hardly any expression of emotion. Felt bland.
February 4, 2025
I always wondered what Malcolm X’s daughters’ upbringing was like not having their father around, but still very much feeling his influence in their lives, so I’m really glad that Ilyasah released this book. I learned a lot.
June 14, 2024
AN OUTSTANDING “INSIDE” VIEW OF MALCOLM AND THE FAMILY
Ilyasah Shabazz (born 1962) is the third daughter of Malcolm X and Betty Shabazz. She is also an author of several books for young people about her mother, as well as being an activist and speaker.
In this 2002 book she acknowledges, “I write all this as though I remember, which I do not… I was two years old, going on three, and though I surely felt confusion and fear at the time, I have no memory of it… My oldest sister, Attallah, was six years old when my father was assassinated; Qubilah was four.” (Pg. 13-14) She continues, “All that I know about that terrible, terrible day I have learned from the Autobiography, from other written sources, and from the painful recollections of friends… My mother herself never spoke to us about what happened on February 1, 1965. My mother would not revisit that moment, ever. She could not.” (Pg. 17) Later, she adds, “I’m not sure how much I really remember of my father. My mother and Attallah shared so many stories with us that I honestly don’t know if I remember him or if the memories I have exist only because they kept him so alive.” (Pg. 37)
In the first chapter, she recounts, “I was there that day. We all were, except baby Gamilah who… got left behind with friends because her little snowsuit was too damp to wear out into the cold. But the rest of us were there, sitting stage right … Even the twins, Malikah and Malaak, were present … inside [Mommy’s] womb.” (Pg. 9)
Malcolm “knew he was a walking target and he didn’t want anyone else to get hit. He told Mommy he wanted to take the trouble away from us. Four days later, the Nation of Islam went to court to evict us from our home. In the aftermath of the fire, my father never stopped working… He took what security precautions he could, but through it all he kept working… In between all this activity, he worked hard to find a new home for us. He knew the end was coming soon.” (Pg. 10-11)
She records of the day of the assassination, “After we left the telephone rang. Mrs. Wallace answered it. It was Wallace Muhammad, son of Elijah Muhammad… he said he’d been trying to reach my father for days. He wanted to warn him, to tell him they were going to kill him soon. He did not say who ‘they’ were.” (Pg. 12-13)
She says with feeling, “Being the daughter of Malcolm X and Betty Shabazz is a gift for which I am forever grateful. Malcolm X was a man absolutely committed to changing the way people of African descent viewed themselves, one another, and their place in world history… he is my hero and my mother is my heroine. I wouldn’t change that for anything in this world. yet growing up as the child of two such astonishingly strong and determined people wasn’t always easy… Mommy did a remarkable job of shielding my sisters and me from all that when we were children, but she could not shield us forever… How could I possibly be … as smart or as disciplined as my father? … Why were people surprised---and sometimes disappointed---when they learned how normal my childhood was, how mainstream and privileged and integrated and utterly American?” (Pg. 22-23)
She notes, “My father was… the great love of [her mother’s] life. To have witnessed his violent death must have seemed more than she could bear. To make matters worse, Mommy was now homeless, the firebombing and the Nation of Islam’s eviction had taken care of that. She had little money; my father had always believed the Nation would take care of his family should the need arise, and so he never sought to enrich himself, only the organization. He didn’t even have life insurance because by the time he knew he needed it, no insurance company would touch him. Nor was Mommy soother by an outpouring of public support in the way Jacqueline Kennedy and Coretta Scott King were when their husbands fell to assassins. The major press considered my father a fire-breathing, white hating maniac who’d been cut down by members of his own strange and subversive cult… And, of course, the people my father had counted on to care for his family… the Nation of Islam---were the very ones who conspired with government agencies to assassinate him.” (Pg. 25-26)
Of her mother’s eventual close friendship to Coretta Scott King, she observes, “that fact may come as a surprise to people who like to cast my father and Martin Luther King Jr. as the black hat and the white hat of the civil rights movement and, therefore, diehard enemies. It’s true they had their differences. It’s true my father … disagreed with Dr. King’s philosophy of nonviolent resistance. My father did no advocate violence, but he believed completely in the right of African Americans to defend themselves against violence… It’s true my father went to Selma … and said it was ridiculous for African American men to turn the other cheek, when their women and children were being attacked by dogs and injured by fire hoses. It’s true he called the March on Washington ‘The Farce on Washington’ after whites became deeply involved in the planning of it… It’s true he scoffed at Dr. King’s speech, saying, ‘Even he says it’s s dream.’ That was Malcolm X. While my father may have disagreed with him, he respected him. He knew they were both fighting the same fight… It is vitally important to me that African Americans understand the special bond between the Shabazz and King families… [so] that we understand it’s not a matter of Malcolm versus Martin… we do not have to choose… Both were great men who did not hesitate to die because they loved us so.” (Pg. 29-30)
She says, “When my father left the Nation and converted to orthodox Islam, my mother converted, too. Together they deepened their study of the Qur’an and the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad. They realized that what they knew of Islam from the teachings of Elijah Muhammad was really a stew of orthodox Islam, black nationalism, fanciful science, fanciful history. They decided to pursue the Islam practiced by billions of people all over the world and become Sunni Muslims.” (Pg. 41)
She continues, “My mother was a devout Muslim… she was extremely private about her faith. She did not proselytize. She did not wear the hijab… She did not believe Islam required women to be passive creatures locked away in a house somewhere… she wanted her daughters to grow up with that same sustenance. So every Sunday, rain or shine, we went to the mosque.” (Pg. 42) She adds, “but she also wanted us to have respect for the Christian beliefs held by members of … her … families… Whenever we visited my grandparents … during the summer we would get up every Sunday and go with them to Friendship Baptist Church. My sisters tolerated these Sundays, but I reveled in them. I loved church, loved everything about it…” (Pg. 49)
She notes, “there was never any question in our house but that we girls would receive the broadest and best education possible. As it turned out, that education took place in schools that were predominantly white… My mother worked hard to send her daughters to the best schools she could find: We attended Montessori schools in the elementary grades… After primary school, I went on to the Masters School in Dobbs Ferry and Jackley Preparatory School… Mommy did what she did because she knew we had to be one step ahead both educationally and culturally in a society that had been historically unjust.” (Pg. 55) Later, she adds, “But Mommy knew… that just sending us to good private schools was not enough. She knew she would have to supplement our education in the areas … [of] the history and importance of Africans and African Americans… So, on Wednesday afternoons, Brother K. Ahamad Tawfiq came to our house to teach us Arabid and to lecture us about the Qur’an and Africa… Listening to Brother Tawfiq, I learned my true heritage. And so I was armed when presented with a white-washed view of history.” (Pg. 54-58)
She admits, “In many ways my sisters and I lived a life of privilege, and I suppose we took it for granted… I grew up largely unaware of that other world of black America in which children study no music and attend deteriorating public schools and live in cramped apartments in violent neighborhoods My mother neither went out of her way to show us this world nor tried to keep us from seeing it. She knew we would learn of our people’s condition soon enough. Our job was to prepare ourselves.” (Pg. 62)
She points out, “I could probably count on one hand the number of times in my life that I heard my mother speak the name Louis Farrakhan… She never mentioned him. Not at all. As I got older and the facts of my father’s death trickled into my consciousness, I became aware of Mr. Farrakhan. I knew that whatever the truth about my father’s death, there was something about Mr. Farrakhan I did not want to associate with… [But] I never entertained negative thoughts about him… What did upset me about Minister Farrakhan was his refusal to acknowledge all that Malcolm X did for the Nation… Obviously he admired my father, because he studied him. But for him not to acknowledge that debt bothers me the most… Here you have someone who took on our entire struggle as a people, who sacrificed himself to liberate all Africans… Yet African Americans allowed themselves to be part of his death, whether they … actually pulled the trigger. African Americans turned their backs on him and his wife… [and] allowed themselves to be part of the attempted murder of his crusade to free us all. If you ask me, we, as a people, allowed ourselves to be played.” (Pg. 114-116)
She clarifies, “People who don’t know me sometimes… expect the daughter of Malcolm X to be right out front of the segregationist crusade, waving the flag for sticking with one’s own kind. It is true that my father once preached against integration in general, and interracial marriage in particular. That was a stage in his progression and learning… One of the truly remarkable things about my father was his capacity for change, for self-improvement and self-analysis… remember, he was only thirty-nine when he was assassinated, and … he never stagnated, but grew and grew.” (Pg. 144-145)
When she began attending the State University of New Platz, “For the first time in my life I became MALCOLM X’S DAUGHTER! Everywhere I went on campus, people already knew who I was or, at least, who they thought I should be.” (Pg. 165) She continues, “I imagine them expecting a girl with flowing locks and a dashiki… a fiery Black Muslim who came to shake things up… And they walk into the room and there I am… [in] my cute little sandals and my relaxed hair in a ponytail…” (Pg. 168-169) She also recounts the story of her mother’s death in 1997, twenty-two days after being severely burned in a fire. (Pg. 227-230)
She concludes, “My mother’s mission was to leave the world a better place than she found it and she far surpassed that personal goal… We no longer have Betty Shabazz or Malcolm X physically, but we can all carry their spirits in our hearts.” (Pg. 234)
This is a marvelous, wonderful book, that will be absolute “must reading” for anyone even remotely interested in Malcolm X, Betty Shabazz, of the causes they fought for.
Ilyasah Shabazz (born 1962) is the third daughter of Malcolm X and Betty Shabazz. She is also an author of several books for young people about her mother, as well as being an activist and speaker.
In this 2002 book she acknowledges, “I write all this as though I remember, which I do not… I was two years old, going on three, and though I surely felt confusion and fear at the time, I have no memory of it… My oldest sister, Attallah, was six years old when my father was assassinated; Qubilah was four.” (Pg. 13-14) She continues, “All that I know about that terrible, terrible day I have learned from the Autobiography, from other written sources, and from the painful recollections of friends… My mother herself never spoke to us about what happened on February 1, 1965. My mother would not revisit that moment, ever. She could not.” (Pg. 17) Later, she adds, “I’m not sure how much I really remember of my father. My mother and Attallah shared so many stories with us that I honestly don’t know if I remember him or if the memories I have exist only because they kept him so alive.” (Pg. 37)
In the first chapter, she recounts, “I was there that day. We all were, except baby Gamilah who… got left behind with friends because her little snowsuit was too damp to wear out into the cold. But the rest of us were there, sitting stage right … Even the twins, Malikah and Malaak, were present … inside [Mommy’s] womb.” (Pg. 9)
Malcolm “knew he was a walking target and he didn’t want anyone else to get hit. He told Mommy he wanted to take the trouble away from us. Four days later, the Nation of Islam went to court to evict us from our home. In the aftermath of the fire, my father never stopped working… He took what security precautions he could, but through it all he kept working… In between all this activity, he worked hard to find a new home for us. He knew the end was coming soon.” (Pg. 10-11)
She records of the day of the assassination, “After we left the telephone rang. Mrs. Wallace answered it. It was Wallace Muhammad, son of Elijah Muhammad… he said he’d been trying to reach my father for days. He wanted to warn him, to tell him they were going to kill him soon. He did not say who ‘they’ were.” (Pg. 12-13)
She says with feeling, “Being the daughter of Malcolm X and Betty Shabazz is a gift for which I am forever grateful. Malcolm X was a man absolutely committed to changing the way people of African descent viewed themselves, one another, and their place in world history… he is my hero and my mother is my heroine. I wouldn’t change that for anything in this world. yet growing up as the child of two such astonishingly strong and determined people wasn’t always easy… Mommy did a remarkable job of shielding my sisters and me from all that when we were children, but she could not shield us forever… How could I possibly be … as smart or as disciplined as my father? … Why were people surprised---and sometimes disappointed---when they learned how normal my childhood was, how mainstream and privileged and integrated and utterly American?” (Pg. 22-23)
She notes, “My father was… the great love of [her mother’s] life. To have witnessed his violent death must have seemed more than she could bear. To make matters worse, Mommy was now homeless, the firebombing and the Nation of Islam’s eviction had taken care of that. She had little money; my father had always believed the Nation would take care of his family should the need arise, and so he never sought to enrich himself, only the organization. He didn’t even have life insurance because by the time he knew he needed it, no insurance company would touch him. Nor was Mommy soother by an outpouring of public support in the way Jacqueline Kennedy and Coretta Scott King were when their husbands fell to assassins. The major press considered my father a fire-breathing, white hating maniac who’d been cut down by members of his own strange and subversive cult… And, of course, the people my father had counted on to care for his family… the Nation of Islam---were the very ones who conspired with government agencies to assassinate him.” (Pg. 25-26)
Of her mother’s eventual close friendship to Coretta Scott King, she observes, “that fact may come as a surprise to people who like to cast my father and Martin Luther King Jr. as the black hat and the white hat of the civil rights movement and, therefore, diehard enemies. It’s true they had their differences. It’s true my father … disagreed with Dr. King’s philosophy of nonviolent resistance. My father did no advocate violence, but he believed completely in the right of African Americans to defend themselves against violence… It’s true my father went to Selma … and said it was ridiculous for African American men to turn the other cheek, when their women and children were being attacked by dogs and injured by fire hoses. It’s true he called the March on Washington ‘The Farce on Washington’ after whites became deeply involved in the planning of it… It’s true he scoffed at Dr. King’s speech, saying, ‘Even he says it’s s dream.’ That was Malcolm X. While my father may have disagreed with him, he respected him. He knew they were both fighting the same fight… It is vitally important to me that African Americans understand the special bond between the Shabazz and King families… [so] that we understand it’s not a matter of Malcolm versus Martin… we do not have to choose… Both were great men who did not hesitate to die because they loved us so.” (Pg. 29-30)
She says, “When my father left the Nation and converted to orthodox Islam, my mother converted, too. Together they deepened their study of the Qur’an and the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad. They realized that what they knew of Islam from the teachings of Elijah Muhammad was really a stew of orthodox Islam, black nationalism, fanciful science, fanciful history. They decided to pursue the Islam practiced by billions of people all over the world and become Sunni Muslims.” (Pg. 41)
She continues, “My mother was a devout Muslim… she was extremely private about her faith. She did not proselytize. She did not wear the hijab… She did not believe Islam required women to be passive creatures locked away in a house somewhere… she wanted her daughters to grow up with that same sustenance. So every Sunday, rain or shine, we went to the mosque.” (Pg. 42) She adds, “but she also wanted us to have respect for the Christian beliefs held by members of … her … families… Whenever we visited my grandparents … during the summer we would get up every Sunday and go with them to Friendship Baptist Church. My sisters tolerated these Sundays, but I reveled in them. I loved church, loved everything about it…” (Pg. 49)
She notes, “there was never any question in our house but that we girls would receive the broadest and best education possible. As it turned out, that education took place in schools that were predominantly white… My mother worked hard to send her daughters to the best schools she could find: We attended Montessori schools in the elementary grades… After primary school, I went on to the Masters School in Dobbs Ferry and Jackley Preparatory School… Mommy did what she did because she knew we had to be one step ahead both educationally and culturally in a society that had been historically unjust.” (Pg. 55) Later, she adds, “But Mommy knew… that just sending us to good private schools was not enough. She knew she would have to supplement our education in the areas … [of] the history and importance of Africans and African Americans… So, on Wednesday afternoons, Brother K. Ahamad Tawfiq came to our house to teach us Arabid and to lecture us about the Qur’an and Africa… Listening to Brother Tawfiq, I learned my true heritage. And so I was armed when presented with a white-washed view of history.” (Pg. 54-58)
She admits, “In many ways my sisters and I lived a life of privilege, and I suppose we took it for granted… I grew up largely unaware of that other world of black America in which children study no music and attend deteriorating public schools and live in cramped apartments in violent neighborhoods My mother neither went out of her way to show us this world nor tried to keep us from seeing it. She knew we would learn of our people’s condition soon enough. Our job was to prepare ourselves.” (Pg. 62)
She points out, “I could probably count on one hand the number of times in my life that I heard my mother speak the name Louis Farrakhan… She never mentioned him. Not at all. As I got older and the facts of my father’s death trickled into my consciousness, I became aware of Mr. Farrakhan. I knew that whatever the truth about my father’s death, there was something about Mr. Farrakhan I did not want to associate with… [But] I never entertained negative thoughts about him… What did upset me about Minister Farrakhan was his refusal to acknowledge all that Malcolm X did for the Nation… Obviously he admired my father, because he studied him. But for him not to acknowledge that debt bothers me the most… Here you have someone who took on our entire struggle as a people, who sacrificed himself to liberate all Africans… Yet African Americans allowed themselves to be part of his death, whether they … actually pulled the trigger. African Americans turned their backs on him and his wife… [and] allowed themselves to be part of the attempted murder of his crusade to free us all. If you ask me, we, as a people, allowed ourselves to be played.” (Pg. 114-116)
She clarifies, “People who don’t know me sometimes… expect the daughter of Malcolm X to be right out front of the segregationist crusade, waving the flag for sticking with one’s own kind. It is true that my father once preached against integration in general, and interracial marriage in particular. That was a stage in his progression and learning… One of the truly remarkable things about my father was his capacity for change, for self-improvement and self-analysis… remember, he was only thirty-nine when he was assassinated, and … he never stagnated, but grew and grew.” (Pg. 144-145)
When she began attending the State University of New Platz, “For the first time in my life I became MALCOLM X’S DAUGHTER! Everywhere I went on campus, people already knew who I was or, at least, who they thought I should be.” (Pg. 165) She continues, “I imagine them expecting a girl with flowing locks and a dashiki… a fiery Black Muslim who came to shake things up… And they walk into the room and there I am… [in] my cute little sandals and my relaxed hair in a ponytail…” (Pg. 168-169) She also recounts the story of her mother’s death in 1997, twenty-two days after being severely burned in a fire. (Pg. 227-230)
She concludes, “My mother’s mission was to leave the world a better place than she found it and she far surpassed that personal goal… We no longer have Betty Shabazz or Malcolm X physically, but we can all carry their spirits in our hearts.” (Pg. 234)
This is a marvelous, wonderful book, that will be absolute “must reading” for anyone even remotely interested in Malcolm X, Betty Shabazz, of the causes they fought for.
December 11, 2016
How does one live up to writing a book while being the offspring of legends. How does one do that? How is one supposed to live up to the expectations? I see that Ms. Ilyasah Shabazz does quite fine, simply by being herself. Anyone who is fair to her cannot expect her to be nether Malcolm X nor Betty Shabazz. In reading this book carefully, one can see how it took a lot of courage to be open about so many things. The book helps the reader to truly see the day-to-day working of the Shabazz household, seeing how the family culture worked. One learns a lot about Ilyasah and her sisters and becomes grateful for it. I love this book mainly because Ilyasah kept it in tune with what I feel her parents would have wanted her to—to be true to herself. This is a sensitive, perceptive, astute and honest account of a life lived in the shadows of legends. Thank you Ms. Ilyasah Shabazz for being honest with us about your life, and doing it with class. It's the most that any of us could hope from you, and you were gracious enough to us to provide it.
August 4, 2012
A touching and heartfelt tribute to their mother, Dr. Betty Shabazz, the widow of Malcolm X. Ilyasah details pivotal certain experiences in such an interesting way and I reiterate that it was such a great shame that Malcolm was taken away from us. Both Malcolm and Betty will live on forever. The book is a must read for anyone interested in developing their knowledge bank although I would like to have read a bit more about Malcolm himself and the man he was inside his family home. However, this book is a special tribute to a fantastic mother who had to carry the burden and raise her 6 children on her own when she lost her husband who was taken away savagely by vicious, vile and repulsive evil creatures. The part in the book where Ilyasah speaks about the cookies she and her father ate which were made by Betty are just one of the few things that manage to establish a strong, emotional connection with Ilyasah and her family members.
January 25, 2018
After reading 'Growing Up X’ by I. Shabazz, I put the book down in a slow manner ruminating over the story I read as well as the bits and pieces of my personal hero and angel of sorts, Dr. Betty Shabazz's life as it was mentioned throughout. To think about a book after it has been put down May qualify the book as good, but the tugging of it at my heart and the deep sense of duty to read more, search deeper within myself for my place in what I will call the 'Great Crossroad of America' deems this book an introspective perspective on lives, works, and an undiscovered family life. I truly enjoyed I. Shabazz's gems and nuggets that she passed on to readers, in addition to just how normal her childhood was. This book is a book that every child should read at some point during their time on this Earth. A powerful piece of literature that speaks of true strength in a life lived before my time that was finished in a day.
July 26, 2013
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It is well-written and quite eloquent, in my opinion. I found the author's voice to be very perceptive and fresh, yet simplistic, and the overall story to be very engrossing; I couldn't put it down! As the daughter of Malcolm X, I think I expected Ms. Shabazz to be very pretentious, but to my surprise, I found her to be very down-to-earth. I admire the love that she has for her mother; I found this book to be a very beautiful and emotional tribute to both her parents, especially her mother. This book has definitely increased my interest in Malcolm X and his philosophy.
February 29, 2008
Ilyasah Shabazz's book is lighter in tone then her fathers but no less worthy. It's is fascinating to know how this woman grew up with such a a legacy to live up to. Not only of her father but her mother as well.
July 25, 2011
I really enjoyed this book, it was nice to hear about Malcom X from his daughters eyes. She also gave a great insight on how the famliy dealt with his death and who stood by the famliy. Great Great Read.
February 15, 2015
I wrote my senior thesis about Malcolm X and remain fascinated by him. However, this autobiography of his daughter was much more about her love of her mother, Betty Shabazz, and growing up black in an upper middle class white suburb. Too bad.
February 18, 2016
This book was wonderful. I didn't fee like I was reading a book, it felt like she was sitting here telling me the story. I really didn't want it to end. Dr. Shabbaz seemed like and extraordinary woman. Again, the book was wonderful.
February 16, 2008
story of Ilyasah Shabazz and life growing up as the daughter of Malcolm X.
January 27, 2009
This was good because we often read about Malcolm X but we don't get many details about how his family moved on after his death. This book shows what a great dedicated mother Betty Shabazz was.
March 17, 2009
A very moving and touching read. It inspired so many "if only" moments that it almost makes me sad. Allah Ta'aala knows best and may His blessings be upon the Shabazz family.
February 16, 2012
Very interesting read. Some heartbreaking things, some wonderful things. Overall very enjoyable.
February 27, 2012
Not much earthshattering here, but some interesting insights and memories of one of Malcolm X's six daughters.
January 17, 2014
Endearing and honest.
March 11, 2014
Who better to share the story of the Shabazz family?
December 27, 2015
Very inspiring
" My mother's mission was to leave the world a better place than she found it, she far surpassed that personal goal. Now it is our turn to carry on."
" My mother's mission was to leave the world a better place than she found it, she far surpassed that personal goal. Now it is our turn to carry on."
August 1, 2017
Interesting perspective of X from his daughter who was very young when he was killed.
December 25, 2018
Heartbreaking and beautiful.
December 27, 2018
A very powerful memoir from a member of a famous Black American family.
January 30, 2019
Beautiful Book
I loved this straightforward story and the love for her parents. Well done. Betty Shabazz was such a study in dignity.
I loved this straightforward story and the love for her parents. Well done. Betty Shabazz was such a study in dignity.
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