Malcolm At 100: The Puppet Show Still Plays On — And The Stats Prove It

This year marks 100 years since the birth of El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, better known as Malcolm X — one of the most fearless truth-tellers in Black history. But if Malcolm were alive today, he wouldn’t be celebrating. He’d be calling out the betrayal of a people still trapped by the same systems he tried to expose — only now, the chains are digital, economic, and psychological.

In one of his sharpest critiques, Malcolm said: “Show me in the white community where a comedian is a white leader… or a singer… These aren’t leaders. These are puppets and clowns that have been set up over the Black community by the white community.”

That was over 60 years ago.

Fast-forward to today, and the picture hasn’t changed — it’s just digitized. Instead of grassroots organizers, thinkers, or builders leading the charge, we have entertainers, social media influencers, and sponsored activists speaking on our behalf. Their platforms are powerful, but too often their positions are safe, rehearsed, and aligned with the very systems Malcolm fought to expose.

Yes, people have the right to speak. But we must ask — who are they really speaking for when their platforms, messages, and influence are tied to white-owned corporations through sponsorship deals, contracts, and PR handlers? Malcolm knew the game in the 1960s. He saw clearly how money and access would be used to soften resistance and co-opt leadership. There’s an old saying: “The game never changes, just the players.” And for far too long, the Black community has been played. Malcolm saw it, called it out, and paid the ultimate price for refusing to play along. But over the years, we’ve forgotten.

Our communities are still struggling — not because we lack talent, intelligence, or potential — but because we keep mistaking popularity for leadership. We let corporations and media networks pick our heroes, and then wonder why our problems stay the same. When our most visible voices are more concerned with brand deals than systemic change, the outcome is predictable: symbolic gestures, no structural progress.

Malcolm didn’t die so we could worship celebrities. He died because he told the truth about power — especially when it came wrapped in Black skin but spoke with a white glove.

And yet, in the ultimate irony, his image has become a brand — divorced from the fire of his message. His face sits on t-shirts, fitted caps, and memes worn by people who have disavowed everything he stood for. They quote his anger, but ignore his clarity. They march with an X on their chest but cash checks from the very institutions Malcolm exposed. It’s exactly what economist Thomas Sowell warned about when he spoke of the Black elite — a class of people more interested in managing the problem than solving it, because the problem is their platform.

Malcolm warned us that this would happen. He saw how easily integrity could be sold for acceptance, how the gatekeepers of Black liberation would one day be the very people preventing it — dressed in kente cloth, speaking the language of progress, but serving the agenda of the status quo.

And the numbers prove we’ve paid a high price for these illusions:

• In 1963, the Black homeownership rate was 38%. In 2023, it’s only 44% — barely a gain in 60 years, while white homeownership sits at over 73%.
• The Black unemployment rate is still double that of whites, just as it was in Malcolm’s day.
• The Black-white wealth gap has worsened: the median Black household holds about $24,000 in wealth versus $188,000 for whites — a staggering 8-to-1 gap.
• School segregation is worse today than it was in the late 1980s. Most Black children now attend high-poverty, underfunded schools.
• In 1965, about 25% of Black children were born to single mothers. Today, over 70% are — impacting family structure, poverty, and community outcomes.
• The incarceration rate for Black men is still 5 times higher than that of white men, a direct result of policies implemented after Malcolm’s death.
• Black Americans continue to have lower life expectancies and higher rates of chronic illness.

These aren’t just statistics — they’re symptoms of a deeper betrayal. We’ve turned Malcolm X into merchandise while ignoring his mission. We don’t need more icons — we need more integrity. We don’t need another speech — we need to act on the truth we already know.

Malcolm didn’t die for a statue or a street name. He died because he told us the truth about ourselves and the system — and that truth still makes people uncomfortable today. If we really want to honor Malcolm at 100, we must stop confusing celebrity with credibility. We must start listening to the builders, the teachers, and the truth-tellers — not the puppets with the loudest microphones.

This article first appeared in the May 2025 issue of Black Westchester Newspaper.