The Beginning of My Legacy
Elijah Muhammad ingrained his teachings into the hearts and minds of his children, especially my grandfather, Jabir. He was more than just a son — he was Elijah’s trusted adviser and the chief business manager for the Nation of Islam. But his reach went far beyond the walls of faith and leadership. My grandfather held influence in the world of sports and business, becoming the longtime personal manager of the one and only Muhammad Ali. His success eventually earned him a place in the Hall of Fame — a testament to his wit, shrewdness, and divine assignment.
Yet, even with all his accomplishments, our family’s story wasn’t without its fractures. Jabir, my father’s father, disapproved of my parents’ marriage because my mother was a Christian and several years older than my dad. His disapproval wasn’t silent — it was final. He disinherited my father, cutting him off from the wealth and resources that had defined our family’s status. It was a decision that would shape the course of my life before I even understood the power of legacy or the weight of separation.
Still, my grandfather’s world was extraordinary. When Ali became the heavyweight champion of the world in 1964 after defeating Sonny Liston, it marked the beginning of a historic journey. From 1966 until 1981, my grandfather managed Ali’s career, and for ten more years after Ali’s retirement, he continued to guide him — not just in business, but in belief.
Ali had been drawn into the Nation of Islam by activist Malcolm X, who was not only a member of the Nation but also my great-grandfather’s chief disciple. Jabir once told writer Thomas Hauser in Muhammad Ali: His Life and Times that he took on the responsibility of managing Ali at Elijah’s request — to make sure no one took advantage of him. “For twenty-six years, I’ve been teaching Ali about the religion,” my grandfather said. “My father put that job on me and asked me to show him the way.”
That line has always stayed with me — asked me to show him the way. Because even then, purpose was generational. Legacy was intentional.
Ali was good to my family. During a time when my parents were struggling to find stability, he opened his home to them in Chicago. My siblings and I still remember his kindness — how warm and genuine he was. Not long after, my great-grandfather gave my parents the money they needed to buy their own home. My mother found one not far from where Ali lived, and they settled there.
But what seemed like a new beginning soon became the breaking point. That home — that chapter — became the place where the foundation of my family began to crack. It was the start of the storms that would eventually shatter what I thought was secure.
Still, even in those broken pieces, God was quietly rebuilding something greater — a faith, a purpose, and a legacy that would one day lead me to understand my own calling.
